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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Dear Jimbo,
I know this might seem like a bit of a shock to you, seeing as we made all those plans to sink the British isles, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — but honestly, putting my hamster in the microwave was too much. I just need more cowbell. I want to tell you that I think you are evil and manipulative, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are possessed by Pazuzu, and I am worried about it. You like sucking off the black guy that mows your lawn, bobbing for old tires in the East River, and playing King Kong with dollhouses in toystores (and going to jail for it), 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 again, but in another life — preferably a previous one. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I'm having another period of severe psychotic breakdown. I'd really like us to become engaged in a brutal medieval fight to the death with the good ole' armour, horse and lances (but only if I get to win), if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, way back in the 60's during Woodstock. Take care of yourself and never forget that every time you masturbate, Friedrich Nietzsche kills God.
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