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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Tuesday, February 3, 2026
Dear Dalai Lama,
I know this might seem like a sudden change to you, seeing as we made all those plans to throw the One Ring into the fires of Mount Doom in Mordor, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — or at least that's what you're supposed to say in these situations. I just need more time alone. No... More time away from you. All of it, really. Yeah. That's what I mean to say. I want to tell you that I think you are the Mr. Hyde to my Doctor Jekyll, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a satanist, and I am that lonely obsessed stalker who refused to just settle for your autograph. You like sucking off the black guy that mows your lawn, putting things on springs, and biking against red light at rush hour, and I'm just not sure I can ever share your joy in those things. How can two people so different ever make it for the long haul? I think we should date everyone else in the world, just to find out the answer — or at least I should, you have no hope on that score. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I make additions to my personal list of people I intend to kill. I'd really like us to become friends, but I think that won't happen. I rather not speak to you again, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, my left hand and I. Take care of yourself and never forget that every time you see a rainbow, someone is having gay sex.
~ 4.252.99.182.
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