Dear John,

Ever self-important, you’ll certainly recognize yourself if called upon,
You’re now officially put on notice, so perhaps the light begins to dawn.
Conspicuously conceited, stuck up, so very vain, and also ever laden
With Freudian attention-seeking tendencies–you’re always misbehaving.
I heard you berate a much put-upon teller at the bank the other day,
In tones devoid of care or even a molecule or smidgeon of fair play.
Superciliously asking in superior tones, “Do you know who I am?”
As if at that exact moment, she tearfully really couldn’t care,
Wondering if she was your usual, tension-relieving, sacrificial lamb.
She looked down and didn’t answer you; she didn’t even dare.

You undertip servers, talk down to others, and always cut in line,
Eschew any small talk, and in high dudgeon, rudeness define.
“Now, Madame,” injured, he now responds in a pique of spite.
“How can you say so? It’s just not right! This smear will not work.
I’ve never cheated on my taxes, nor womanhood besmirched.
I support politically correct causes, tithe ten percent at the church,
Watch my weight, eat a vegetarian lunch, and regularly run laps,
So take care to mind your business, or do you own manners lapse.”

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