Dear Lockout People:  Yeah, all ye at the table from both sides. I know beggars can’t be choosers, or so they say, but I'm going to choose anyway:  If you try and make us wait like three more days for any free agency signings after you finally get a deal inked, I’m gonna be irked. We want free agency. We’ve waited long enough. We want our rookies signed and in camp. And we want to know who our flashy new running back is and how fat our new defensive tackle is. Action, we ask for, not words. And we want it now, not later. Thank you.

Dear Timmy:  I believe in you, and I know you’ve been training hard this offseason. But Timmy, it’s time to put down the golf clubs. And stop kissing babies and taking pictures. No more Jockey Underwear commercials. And no more saving orphans from burning buildings and whatever else it is that you do on a Friday afternoon. It’s time to clock in, Tim. Time to do work.

Dear Offensive Linemen:  I hear lots of stories about how you’ve become quite the close knit unit over the course of this offseason – that you practice together and you play well together. I ask that you find room in the group for one more, for Orlando Franklin. Please find it in your hearts to welcome him - to make him feel comfortable and cohesive in his new family. But mostly, I ask that you allow him to, in turn, teach each of you how to be terrifying and brutal, unforgiving and heartless on the gridiron. Allow him to teach you to picture baby kittens dying brutal, nearly un-watchable deaths on the football field, by your hands, each and every day – to desensitize you, so that you’ll never again feel heart or compassion for anyone that stands on the other side of that line. You know the line I'm talking about. Learn from one another. Protect each other. Protect your QB and protect your RB. But most of all, please be very violent – together as a family, of course. Thank you.

Dear Orlando Franklin:  Excuse me scary Sir, but can you please go make friends with Knowshon Moreno and make him your new little pet pal? Carry him with you wherever you go and you can even let him pay for your lunches. Learn him. Love him. And most of all, protect him. Learn to make opposing defenders fear him for fear of what you’ll do to them if they hurt him - what you'll do to them if they hurt your little buddy. Oh, and carry our other new running back, too - just pick him up like a lunch pale, each in one hand. Thank you. And please don't kill me. Thank you again.

Dear "Sophisticated":  What are you? What ever do you mean? What does it mean to say, "we’re going to have the most sophisticated run game in the league"? Is it possible we’re looking to use six offensive linemen on running downs in lieu of a blocking TE? Has it been done before? Show yourself already, damn it! Please? Tell us what you are already! Thank you. I hate you. But thank you.

Dear Von Miller:  I was your biggest fan walking into the draft. Well, OK, I don’t, like, have your poster on my wall or anything, but I did defend you as our choice well before you were chosen. I even had a post written on why we picked you, before we picked you, so that I could send it out the moment we picked you. So yeah, there’s that. One of the many selling points in my mind was always how much of a ‘team guy’ you portrayed yourself as. And even that you came from a fairly well off family where money has never been the major motivator. So no excuses, Dear Von. Get your arse to camp, soon. Like now. Or tomorrow - whatever. But really, like now. No holdouts; it’s hurry up and go time. I wanna hear that Von, Doom, PoW! already. And I know that’s not going to happen as much if you miss much camp. So just don't, k? Thanks.

Dear Orange Crush:  We’ve missed you oh so dearly. Won’t you come back to us? It takes more than a year, I know. And it's more than just a simple wish and a genie-blink, I know. But still, couldn’t you just show us glimpses of that beautiful pain and unspeakable infliction of fear? Please?

Dear players and owners:  I'm going to forgive you for all these up and down, yo-yo negotiations that have gone on for four months now. Once football is on, I promise to have a short memory like a great cornerback does. But for now, for this one last time, please accept this giant middle finger from me to you - you greedy, greedy grubs you.

Now in the words of Mils Lane: Let's get it on!