In which your humble narrator corresponds with entities unlike to respond or sue him.
Dear Youth of America,
Put some damn clothes on, and seriously, you're going to live to regret that tattoo one day.
Dear State of New York,
Congratulations on letting the gays get hitched. And extra special congratulations for doing it legislatively. Just don't go buck wild and let corporations get married even if Antonin Scalia thinks they're people too.
Dear People who "Make Their Voices Heard!",
Isn't sort of an exercise in futility to "make your voice heard" every damn day in a culture where exactly no one listens? I suppose it sounds better than "I like to shout my opinions all the damn time!"
Dear Peter Falk,
Rest in peace. Goodbye, Columbo.
Dear Rest of the United States of America,
I am in no way responsible for Michele Bachmann. Just because she lives 20 miles from me doesn't mean I have any insight into that big bag of crazy.
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