So, Mr. moJoe, sir... You don't mind me talkin' to you in the first person, do you? I know how mad you can get when people don't do right, and I want to do right. Oh, so badly, I do, sir. And I know you might be one of several people who could get me fixed with this problem I'm having, but you might be the only one that will answer me. I've messed up a lot of my connections since the incident... Well, gosh darn it, I guess I'll try to get to the point. I know how you hate it when stupid people waste your time. You do hate that, don't you, Mr. moJoe? I've sorta got some kinda extra special sensory perception thingy and it just told me that about you. And when I saw your home node picture with all the weird shiny colors and stuff, and you with that buzz cut that just seemed to scream out, "Mess around with me, will ya'?" Well, I've got to say, I was a little worried about even asking this question and all. But since I'm here now and I guess I might as well get on with it, eh? I've tried to solve this little problem on my own, but things just never work out the way we want them to go sometimes, do they? Well, for me, they don't. And I can tell you that, by golly. I guess they do for you, being all so buffed up and studly and all. Gee, wouldn't life be just a little nicer if all us guys were all shiny and new and ready for the big night on the town, like you, eh? Well, a bunch of fiddlesticks. I don't even feel like bothering you any more, now. I'm just going to go lower another bucket of franks in that hole in my basement and I'll write you again tomorrow if things are still all messed up around here. Please don't be mad, OK?

Dear (Longwinded Asslicker) Anonymous,

You certainly are an astute fellow but please, kindly remove your nose from between my asscheeks. Though it is oddly stimulating in some dark and twisted sort of way, I feel it is unchristian of me to allow a mongoloid such as yourself to "mow on my crack", or whatever depraved terminology you fucked up children use now-a-days.

I felt it unnecessary to point out that you never actually asked any sort of question; Rather, I replied for one reason and one reason only:
My radiant crop of curls reaches gloriously below shoulder length. It is simply tied up and I have the sides shaved. I will not have my beloved readers duped into believing that their illustrious idol wanders around sporting some fucked up backwater marine-wannabe crew cut by some subversive brown nosing pervert.

I am feeling generous and it wasn't too difficult to divine what your problem is. You are an idiot. I have this nagging feeling that life is always going to be "messed up" in your neck of the woods there sport-o, there is nothing that I nor anyone can do about it so I wouldn't get your hopes up. All of your friends hate you; it will always be this way. You will spend the rest of your feeble and pointless existence crawling from one brief sparkling moment of what barely qualifies as happiness to the next until your subconscious can no longer stand you either and stops your breathing while you sleep.

Oh, and thanks for the wieners; they were delicious.

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