Please Hammer, Don't Hurt 'Em

I don't know how many of you were able to recognize that the title of this post was stolen from Mr. M.C. Hammer's break-out album, but if you did, congratulations: you know something that no one else cares about.

*disclaimer* For those of you with a legal duty to report, the following is only an expression of what might happen should the proper legal remedies not be available...

Yesterday I got some bad news from my mom. It seems that my sister's ex-boyfriend is now calling her and leaving increasingly annoying/disturbing/threatening messages in her voice mail box. One of the most disturbing ended something like "we need to figure this out before one of us gets hurt and the other goes to jail." Apparently, he lives in some kind of a trailer with his parents and hunts a lot. I've met him once. He's a cross between Roscoe P. Coltrane and Larry the Cable Guy... and not in a good way. Son, if you're reading this, going to jail is the least of your worries.

This boy and my sister both attend a private college in South Carolina. I'm not sure if he's stupid or crazy or both, but the boy's not right. I'm from a state school. We don't play. If I didn't think he'd like it so much, I'd kick his ass and tattoo "get r done" on his forehead.

Now, my mother says that the little sister doesn't want my father, brother, or I involved but I'm pretty sure that it's against the brother code not to go out and introduce this gentleman to the business end of my nine-iron. (This is ironic, because after seeing me play some folks would think I couldn't tell you which was the “business” end...).

Interestingly enough, this guy's parents have a home both in South Carolina and in D.C. Hell, I'll be in D.C. soon anyway. I just hope I get there before my dad finds out. Dad is old school. "Play" is not in his vocabulary. I'll keep you updated.