I issue this courtesy warning to potential terrorist types on my flight who might have some ideas about pulling some shit. Don't fuck with me or the crew.  I will take you out.  You can stab me and shoot me but you won't get to that cockpit.  I'll just keep coming like a slow, fat Terminator. I'll bust your nose open on an armrest, and I'll keep bashing it and busting it up even more.  Then I'll turn my attention to your friends.  I'll kick them each square in the nuts in rapid succession, and while they're doubled over in pain I'll slam their heads together like coconuts.  Long after your entire squad has lost consciousness, I will still be performing disturbingly violent acts upon your persons. It will get to the point where other passengers will be so freaked out by my unending capacity for righteous violence that they will all be utilizing their air sickness bags in one mass vomit session.  My eyes, glowing red with psychotic rage, will finally begin to calm down as I survey the scene.  Once I'm sure you and your buddies are out for the duration of the trip, I will return to my seat, high-fiving the still-reeling passengers as I walk down the aisle, grinning the same stupid grin that Wade Boggs grinned as he took that cop's horse for a victory spin after the '96 World Series. Once I am seated again, I will hit my little "attendant call" button, and when the grateful stewardess arrives at my row, I will calmly order a round of drinks for everyone on the plane (except the first class passengers), and two Bud Tall Boys for myself.  I will probably be asleep before I finish the second can.

Thank you,