Dear tasteless truck-drivers,

(As suggested by Cygnus...)

Come, come, now. Let's be reasonable. You are a tool.

The earth will experience more than one ice age before I roll down my window on the highway and give my phone number to you, despite your waving and nodding, and the fact that you've been driving adjacent to me for the past mile and a half. Why? Because you are a tool. How do I know this? Easy.
1. You have a sticker on your window that says "My other toy has tits."
2. You have empty boxes of Natural Light in your truck bed.
3. You have bull testicles hanging from your hitch. Which, of course, means that your balls are showing. And no matter the situation, all other things being equal, if I can say to you "Excuse me, but your balls are showing." I've gained the upper hand. Indefinitely.

Sincerely (singing),

Nevagonnagetitnevagonnagetit