This scene from Six Feet Under, when George and Ruth receive a feces gift basket in the post:
Must be a late wedding present.
The card says, "To Mr. and Mrs. George Sibley!"
I like the sound of that, Mrs. George...
Oh, dear. What did we get?
Ew, what's that smell?
It appears to be excrement again.
No way!
Except this time someone went to the trouble to place one inside a decorative tin.
"To Mr. and Mrs. George Sibley."
Hmm, no signature, imagine that.
This is a catastrophe of the highest order!
This involves both of us now!
Who knows you live here? Why don't you care about this?
I've made a lot of enemies through the years, Ruth. You take the back-stabbing world of academia, throw in a controversial field like Geology, you've got real trouble.
Geology is controversial?
Oil, Claire. Oil. Look.
This is from a person who quite obviously is looking for a reaction. Somebody who needs attention, let's not give it to him.
That person isn't in the room. He can't see my reaction.
Toss this in the dumpster, then, would you?
_________________
I never give you my number, I only give you my situation.
Beatles