Picture a picture of a mailbag with a mustache please.I never expected this web-log to generate much correspondence, and though it hasn't, I'm still gratified every time I open up my internet's electronic mail (henceforth to be known as "e-mail," a coinage of which I'm justifiably proud). Apparently the bulk of my fans work for credit/pharmaceutical companies, and though not one of the credit card companies that have begged me to sign up have followed that begging with approval, I take great pride in that they have chosen me, of all web-loggers, to reach out to. (I don't mean to brag.) Anyway, I have received one "e-mail" (don't imagine you're quite ready for me to drop the quotes) pertaining to the content of this web-log. I was surprised, but then realized that the internet is best likened to a drunken hurricane minus the calm center tearing up a vast swamp, and that hundreds of thousands of other questions and credit card numbers provided by fans so that I might indulge my sweet tooth by ordering substantial amounts of foreign candy on their dime were probably lost in the wet and windy world wide web.
So, here is that email and my response:
Dear Sir or Madam,
You are either a liar or a monster. More likely both. No way does all this stuff get stuck in your mustache, unless your mustache is less a mustache and more a sticky clump of tentacles several feet in length. Please delete your blog and go into hiding.
concerned reader and serious blogger
Dear Concerned Reader and Serious Blogger
First, I am troubled that you can't be gender specific in your greeting. Have I really been that ambiguous? After several days of bed-ridden soul-searching and binge-eating I can say that I have not, and your inability to infer gender based on the web-log's contents, my name, and the extremely masculine sentence structures says more about you than it does about me. And I can assure you that some of this state's finest institutions have long considered me "not a monster". Also, I am not a scientist (yet) so I can't tell you how this stuff gets stuck in my mustache.
P.S. What is a blogger?
(Please disregard this post's inconsistencies concerning amount of correspondence expected. That you even noticed this says more about your psychosis that it could ever say about mine.)