I hate Publishers Clearing House

Or, more accurately, I hate that commercial with the woman making a noise approximating a siren that they feel the need to repeat, HeadOn-like, 3 or 4 times. If the PCH prize patrol showed up at my house, I would excuse myself to go grab my golf driver and maybe a pitching wedge. I would then proceed to craft a scene of unimaginable violence for inflicting that commercial and all their crap junk mail on the world.