We've never met, but I know a few things about you.
I know your birthday, social security number, and driver's license number.
I received the notice from the city of Garland last summer about their "warrant roundup" program because there is a warrant in your name there for a 1998 traffic ticket for driving without insurance and/or a valid license.
Earlier this year I learned the exact value of what you owe the city of Dallas in parking and traffic violations; it's almost as much as I owe on my remaining student loan.
Today came the most interesting letter of all: the state of Texas has revoked your driver's license.
I suspect that this does not actually bother you, as you lived at my present address sometime prior to 2001, yet you have apparently never changed the address on your license. Hopefully when you are eventually arrested, the police will get the chance to update your address.
I have no idea who you are, but I suspect we wouldn't get along too well. I am fastidious about paperwork and, well, you've had a license with an outdated address for at least seven years. I do know one thing about prison, though: having your anus pepper-sprayed by a correctional officer after being found in a compromising position with other inmates will not prevent transmission of herpes.