I was the first kid in my elementary school class to publicly drop an F-bomb, in second grade, and it made me kind of bad-ass around the playground for some period of time, especially after word got out about the legendary ass-whooping I took from my old man after the principal squealed on me to my folks. But as outlaw as I became on the K-3 cordoned off section of the playground, my rep paled in comparison to Elliott Thwacker and his Thwacker Bird.

Man, he used to whip that middle finger out and fire it off like a laser-guided missile of hostility toward all who dared cross his path. It was said that a recipient of the Thwacker Bird could possibly lose an eye, or his balls would fall of in his sleep that evening. Thwacker was that powerful with his single digital assault weapon. But that was second grade, by third grade, meh, not so many people cared any more, and by the first day of 4th grade Thwacker fired off his bird at a new kid in school who just laughed at him then punched Thwacker square in the nose so hard the birdman bled out of both nostrils in offsetting spurts, like the water show out front of the Bellagio. Flipping the bird was dead right there on the playground. We were nine.

Kristen Stewart is 22. What the hell are you doing woman? Can grownups really flip the bird and come off looking anything but idiotic? Grandpa can yell at the kids to get off his lawn, and everyone kind of calls him a grumpy old man, but they do it, but what about if the octogenarian fires off a double-bird-flip to the grade schoolers invaded his grassy front yard?

Wealthy, grown up, powerful celebrities don't need the bird. They have publicists and attorneys and private security and eco-friendly private jets that presumably are powered by futuristic magnets. So, Kristen, please, you can be filled with all the angst your petite body can hold, let the rage pour out of you like a suburban girl whose parents just cut-up her Forever 21 credit card, but cut it out already with that middle finger.