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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Friday, February 20, 2026
Dear pointless entity,
I know this might seem like a total violation of the laws of physics to you, seeing as we made all those plans to adopt a child from a third world country for media publicity, 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 length from you than I'm getting, and let's face it — you're shrinking with age. I want to tell you that I think you are the true identity of the Zodiac Killer, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are the demi-duchess of Kumswalla, and I am on my own plane of psychological existence. You like flicking staples at livestock, pushing unsuspecting tourists off from very high places and watch them fall, and disturbing annual sci-fi conventions with whistles and cymbals, 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 people without AIDS. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I'm solving a crossword and have to come up with a synonym for the word "stupid". I'd really like us to become an African-American comedy duo, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, at least while we were in separate cells at the police station. Take care of yourself and never forget that I have the sniper rifle, and I know how to use it.
~ Your favorite drugdealer. |