The Book Of Curses

Wait, Mr. Professional Athlete!

Don't bite that ear! Don't Heimlich that ump! Don't do something that'll cost you another $10,000!

Yes, you got head-butted. Yes, the strike zone is now the size of a coin slot. Yes, Patrick Ewing's knee just made a shambles of your marriage. But violence is not the answer. Profanity is not the answer. Revenge is not the answer.

Curses are the answer.

Curses hurt. Curses are forever. Curses are harder to take back than clearance sale items.

Unfortunately, most curses are hopelessly out of date. May your hens get the itch and your cows the disorder just doesn't have the oomph it used to have. What you need is a new curse. For instance:

May all your Victoria's Secret Catalogues feature only Marge Schott.

May your car radio be permanently stuck on Farrell on the Bench.

May you pull both hammies 10 seconds into Pamplona.

May the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show hold its preliminaries in your Buick.