An Open Letter from God
Dear Humans, If you wouldn’t mind, could you please do me one favor: Stop yelling my name during sex. At first it was kind of flattering, but now it’s just ridiculous, and completely distracting.
Dear Humans, If you wouldn’t mind, could you please do me one favor: Stop yelling my name during sex. At first it was kind of flattering, but now it’s just ridiculous, and completely distracting.
<p>I'm not mad that you tell me I am a terrible writer who needs to proof read his shit. If there is one thing we can both agree on is that I am a bad person who makes terrible decisions, and most of the decisions effect the way I write.
Mr. Cook, I can no longer sit back while your egregious blunders defame the good name of those around you. Especially the illustrious Dennis Rodman.
<p>Dear My Congressman:</p><p>Hello, Mr. (or maybe Mrs.) Congressman. My name is Nathan. And I live in your district. I'm sorry I don't know you by name but the thing is, just looking at you people gives me the willies something fierce so I never bothered to look you up. Y'all are like personal injury lawyers but with less scruples and no souls. Except for Ron Paul.</p>
I’m sorry for stabbing you in that gruesome prison yard bloodbath, and I’m going to learn and grow from this experience. Please accept this letter of apology.
<p>Dear industrialists who helped build this great nation:<br /><br />It was 91 degrees for the sixth day in a row in NYC today. I step outside of my comfortable air conditioning and feel like I’m being punched in the face by a heat fist. The humidity is literally killing people -- and really annoying me. <br />
Dear Summer Internship, thank you for giving me something to do during the daytime. Masturbation was getting old. That said, I have to address a few issues since I started working here...
Think you got the dangling participles it takes to be a PIC writer? First change your name, then buy a pair of sunglasses. Here comes infamy.
Baby, I stay up all night just thinking about you, but the truth is, you're a snore in the bedroom. Don't send me a letter unless it's a Z.
Hey United States. Look I'm not trying to be critical, I just have some questions about, you know, things like Cheney, nudity, and money.
Riding the bus is never a 'pleasant' or 'punctual' experience. But Mr. Driver, please, stop lowering the handicap ramp for fun.
It's obvious you've succeeded at staving off death (thus far), but could you speed things up (the treadmill) and dress the part (athletic gear)?