As you well know, it has always been my unfortunate duty to issue bad news to all of my creations. And Tony, I have always liked you. I've reached out and personally intervened in your times of hardship before and given you hope and the tools needed to lift yourself out of despondency. It has been my joy in the past to do these things. But now, even though you and your family show promise and good will, it has become your time to be shit on.
I know that this notice may seem a little late considering all that has happened to you in the recent weeks. Yes, it was my fault that your manager left work early on Christmas eve, which resulted in you not being able to make it to the bank before they closed, completely fucking up your surprise Christmas plans for your wife. I also infected you with the flu over your following three day vacation, further ruining Christmas for you. It was also my fault that your borrowed car will no longer start, and that the car that you actually own is in disrepair and just had the passenger window broken out. I also had a hand in your paycheck being garnished, but I can't take full credit on that one. If you weren't such ignorant bastard you may have been able to avoid that one.
That's all I really have to fill you in on at this time. I mean, I know there is more shit on your plate than that, but you can expect a fax from Satan explaining all of that. He will go more into why you're fat and have bad teeth. I know that I have created a virtual shit storm for you, but that is life. If things were easy all of the time you wouldn't appreciate the good things in life or the beautiful world I have created for you. It was just your time to catch my shit. I hope it didn't taste too bad.