Sir or madam at large:

Your unsatiated vigor for trouble with the law seems trivial when compared with your complete disrespect for our thought control systems. Who do you think you are? Where do you get off reversing your polarity at random intervals, thereby making it nearly impossible to track you with our nightly pole reversals. We seldom get a chirp from the protien-based computer chip that NASA imbedded in your cerebral cortex when you were a child. The NSA is concerned that you might not accept our version of the beautiful ways of the Lord who is now, was then and forever shall be, world without end, Microsoft or not, copyrighted and trademarked, individually packaged, shrink wrapped and subsonically transmitted, until our divorce lawyers figure out a way to train starteld gazelles to fuck us in the ass, theoretically, mentally, physically, metaphysically and quantum physically, financially and politically, until death do us a big fucking favor and suckle our scrotums (or uteri, as the case may be) like fruitbats on a ripe peach. Don't even get me started on the gravity lies that the government keeps trying to suck us into.

We (anonymously and post-operatively) really enjoyed witnessing your recent Flash film titled "The Duck". We sincerely appreciate your kung-fu. We wish to ride the tiger and dragon tattoos burned into your forearm when you left the Shaolin temple. We yearn to sacrifice a Benedictine goat in your honor. We will supply you with the kid's endocrine gland for your mind-altering pleasure. It would please us to no end to taste your soul and disappear into the sun with our platelets and exoskeletons fully intact for future encounters with your mind.

Please contact us via the usual fiber channels using an atelope tusk connected directly to your cervix. Yodel in Albanian and we will intercept your message at the gulag.

P.S. We have recently made contact with the bison. We now know the secret of their disappearance. They hated the native Americans who didn't worship the flag and all that it stood for. The native Americans refused to use only the best portions of the bison and throw out the remainder. The great white buffalo suffered a thousand insults and catapulted himself directly to the table of the Lord, and there he quenched his thirst for goodness on the bosom of the Lord of All Cows, Danny DeVito. Next time we communicate we may share with you the story of Susan Sarandon dropped acid on a porch, sang to the pain of the world, squated over her troubled mind and dove over the porch railing, killing herself on the air-conditioning unit located below the balcony. And Death Incarnate was nigh.

The portals are open in slalom fashion. Do not channel the raptor; rather, let the raptor channel you.

Roger Wilco.
5:45 PM, Friday, November 30, 2001, in the year of the porkscrew. Delicious. Enviting. Healthy. Challenge yourself with a career as a genetic lozenge crafter. Filter your wavelengths for fun and profit! Succeed at a business career without going to school! Tame the fishpeople!

Letter from John to the Hemaphrodites:

Dear Hemaphrodites:

Go fuck yourselves.

Yours in Christ,

John the Baptist
jbaptist@microsoft.com

Join me for a fun-filled afternoon of drowning infidels in the Euphrates on December 24th. Some go, some blow. Watch as they shake hands with the devil and race through the fiery gates of hell. Tickets still available. Email hate_is_love@governmentjobs.communist