When you occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take it out on someone, don’t take it out on someone you know, take it out on someone you don’t know. I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I’d forgotten to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered, saying “Hello.” I politely said, “This is Bob. Could I please speak with John Carter?” Suddenly, a manic voice yelled out in my ear “Get the right f**in’ number!” And the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn’t believe that anyone could be so rude. When I tracked down John’s correct number to call him, I found that I had accidentally transposed the last two digits. After hanging up with him, I decided to call the “wrong” number again. When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled, “You’re a knob!” and hung up. I wrote his number down with the word ‘knob’ next to it, and put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I’d call him up and yell, “You’re a knob!” It always cheered me up. I was a little concerned about caller ID and thought my therapeutic ‘knob’ calling would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, “Hi, this is John Smith from British Telecom. I’m calling to see if you’re familiar with our Caller ID Program?” He yelled “NO!” and slammed down the phone. I quickly called him back and said, “That’s because you’re a knob!” One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I’d been waiting for that spot, but the idiot ignored me. I noticed a “For Sale” sign in his back window, so I wrote down his number. A couple of days later, right after calling the first knob (I had his number on speed dial), I thought that I’d better call the BMW asshole, too. I said, “Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?” “Yes, it is”, he said. “Can you tell me where I can see it?” I asked. “Yes, I live at 34 manner drive, on Pan estate. It’s a yellow house, and the car’s parked right out in front.” “What’s your name?” I asked. “My name is Don Hansen,” he said. “When’s a good time to catch you, Don?” “I’m home every evening after five.” “Listen, Don, can I tell you something?” “Yes?” “Don, you’re a knob!” Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too. Now, when I had a problem, I had two knobs to call. Then I came up with an idea. I would call knob number 1. “Hello.” “You’re a knob!” I said, but I didn’t hang up. “Are you still there?” he asked. “Yeah,” I said. “Stop calling me,” he screamed. “Make me,” I said. “Who are you?” he asked. “My name is Don Hansen.” “Yeah? Where do you live?” “knob, I live at 34 manner drive, Pan estate, a yellow house, with my black Beamer parked in front.” He said, “I’m coming over right now, Don, and you’d better start saying your prayers.” I said, “Yeah, like I’m really scared, knob,” and hung up. Then I called knob number 2. “Hello?” he said. “Hello, knob,” I said. He yelled, “If I ever find out who you are…” “You’ll what?” I said. “I’ll kick you’re arse,” he exclaimed. I answered, “Well, knob, here’s your chance. I’m coming over right now.” Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at 34 Manner drive Pan estate, and that I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover. Then I called Isle of Wight radio,who then contacted the BBC, about the gang war going down in Manner drive Pan estate. I quickly got into my car and headed over to Pan. I got there just in time to watch two knobs beating the crap out of each other in front of six cop cars, an overhead police helicopter and a news crew. Anger management really works.