An Open Letter to Comcast

Dear Comcast,

You must be opening my letter assuming you are about to be assaulted by another dissatisfied customer who is tired of being tied to the burning stake of your services because of the ridiculous monopoly you have over the media world.  This is not that letter.  You're gonna wish that was this letter by the time I'm through. 

And to be fair, this letter is really only intended for one person who works for Comcast: the MISCREANT ASS HAT who parks his Comcast utility van in front of my house and places cones around it as if he is doing work.  You are not doing work.  Unless by "work" you mean "hittin' it with someone who lives on my street."  News flash, asshole: getting laid is not official business, and unless your shit is real weird, you don't need the work van for it.  So kindly go home, drop off the work van, change your fucking clothes, and then take some form of public transportation back to my neighborhood.  I am not trying to hate.  I am not trying to cock block.  I am trying to park my car on the street that I live on. 

Some people don't like complaints if they aren't constructive in some way: Hey, I have an idea! Tell me where you live, I'll come park in front of your house and then we can carpool back to my neighborhood so I can get on with my day and you can bang my neighbor!

Seriously, dude, move your fucking work van.  Or give me free cable. 

Sincerely,
Another Comcast customer who thinks that an apocalyptic disaster would be worth it if it meant not having to do business with you.