Thanks to my computer, I have now achieved a much higher state of disorganization.
MAN THE BATTLE STATIONS! Someone's coming who wants to reason with us.
Some of my troubles are so familiar, I know them by their first names.
To the Tax Office: All is over between us. Please don't attempt to communicate with me again.
I didn't mind being a public executioner, once I got the hang of it.
I have no prejudices: all my irrational hatreds are based on solid evidence.