Dear Owner or Driver of a 2003 Black Nissan Pickup Truck,

(Read some about it on Frontburner)

Apparently you were running from the cops sometime after the bars closed this morning. Now that's not a very smart thing to do. That's obvious. I don't really care about your motivation or anything. Here's what I care about. It looks like the forward momentum of your truck was halted by the world-famous stopping power of the Dubliner's front walls and windows. And in this perfect storm of truck plus building, you managed to come to a complete stop roughly in the precise location of the table at which I have celebrated many birthdays and also watch most Cowboys games each Sunday. Therefore, pardon my language, you are a dick.

That was the table that we watched every Cowboys game from last season. It's the table we clung to and screamed as we watched the TWO 50+ yard field goals in the Bills game last season. It's the table we were sitting at when we watched the Mavs/Spurs 2006 playoff games. It's the table where we have sat when my friend Sean has put many a shot of Jameson on our tabs without our permission. I spent my most recent birthday at that table this past year when I showed up dressed as post-conservertorship Britney Spears. But within the warm embrace of that table, I felt alright about the fact that I was wearing a dress that by definition was really just a shirt. I loved that table. So to see it reduced to kindling makes me very sad and makes me feel, once again, pantsless.

To the lovely owners of the Dubliner who have been so kind to me over the years: please bring back the table. I love that table. I would birth babies on that table if I knew anything about birthing babies.

To my Cowboys watching friends: we shall overcome. Even if we have to (as Philip suggested) watch it from on top of the wrecked remains of the Nissan that caused the chaos. It could be kind of like tailgating.

To anyone thinking of evading arrest: please aim for Plusssssh or Lyte or Blyng or husch or whatever Urban Mojito Experience Lounge you can somehow line up in your sights between your iPhone and your SatNav. You messed up my table and for that, I blame every Cowboys fumble on you for the entire regular season. I hope you can live with yourself.