If I had a nickel for every time he hurt her at a January dance, I would have five cents. I would use this five cents to buy a stamp, which I would put on a letter filled with hate and foul language, and then send the whole kit and caboodle to him. If I had a nickel for every time he hurt her this year, I would be able to send these letters for a year. If I had a nickel for every time he hurt her at all, I could go out and buy a computer. Not only would I then be able to send him hate letters without buying stamps, I would also be able to sign him up for all the spam I can find, thus sending his computer to a firey hell of virusdom. As it happens, no one has offered to give me a nickel for any of these things, I so am settling for calling him up and swearing at him for hours on end, then putting it on my parents' phone bill.
Mercury, author of Cold Hands, knows this isn't even a fraction of what he deserves, but as she is short on funds, it'll have to do.