Hey, Tony.

It’s 4 am, and this old bird just can’t sleep. I’m weary, but not sleepy. That’s an ugly discord at this time of the night… eerrrrr… day. In about an hour the birds are going to start singing. I hate that when I’ve had a bad night. I just want to tear open the blinds, and give them a good Tony sneer, and scare them away till a more appropriate time of the morning. Like one in the afternoon.

I’m thinking about how there’s been cracks in your anger management these past couple of months. I secretly think that’s terrific, and I’ll bet a lot of other people think so, too. I was there at Bristol when you rammed your shiny orange car into Wimmer, and heard the crowd go wild. They loved it. But on Monday, a lot of them tsk-ed tsk-ed you. Hypocrites.

I’ve had my fill of hypocrites lately. And people that say they understand things when they don’t. And who say they will support you when they don’t have a clue how (so don’t offer, okay)? And who think they know a whole lot about my life and the life of my son, Joshua, when they don’t know diddly.

I could use some of your attitude. I’d love to curl my lip the way that you can. However, at least until I’m through menopause and the hormones that are left that don’t know which way to go slowly grow me a stubbly beard, I don’t have the ability to pull off the unshaven look. But golly! I’d love that mean Tony sneer. There’s a few folks that need to tremble a little when they see me.