You know what really burns my biscuits? Lack of professionalism. If you can’t bother to string together a comprehensive sentence with a modicum of politeness, perhaps you’d best be served sucking off the government teat and licking exhaust pipes. How am I even supposed to take one seriously, that considers using punctuation, only punctuation mind you, as an acceptable expression of a complete thought/inquiry? I can think of a single expression that fully embodies my thought process, in regards, to this lackluster and low witted attempt at communication. It involves my lonely little Malcolm in the Middle Finger, with a loaded suggestion to eat excrement and have a lovely day. Burnt biscuits never killed anyone, but I might.