Dear Roxio,

It was my fault for giving you guys my email address when I registered. I must have overlooked the "don't send me stuff" box or there wasn't one. Either way I should have set it up for my spam address. My bad for trusting you. One thing, though. If you're going to try to sell me stuff, could you refrain from trying to sell me the product that I bought from you in the first place that got me on the list?

Thanks,

The Blogwriter Who Foolishly Trusted You With His Email

Hon. Gov. Rick Perry, of the Great State of Texas:

As it happens, my fiance and I were moving quickly down I-10 from Louisiana in order to get to the airport in time to catch a flight. We were running a bit behind and, as happens sometimes, my bladder was not living up to its full potential. Somewhere at around the state line I told my fiance that I needed to take a pit-stop. She said that she was just waiting for an X-miles-to-Houston sign, and so I, in increasing anguish, waited for same.

I'm not sure if you realize this, Mr. Governor, but there are no X-miles-to-Houston signs for at least an hour inside Texas. In fact, by the time you see one, you are closer to Houston than you are to the state border. There is, of course, the 857 Miles to El Paso sign that brings attention to the geographic length of the state. I think it's cool, but a Houston one might be a little more useful. Or even better yet, the 2 Miles to Vidor sign that appears a mile or so after the Welcome to Vidor sign. I think it can be assumed that you are reasonably close to Vidor at that point and while that may be intuitive, how many miles away from Houston you are is less so.

The Vidor or El Paso real estate on their respective signs could easily contain the geographical information that would have set my bladder free. I strongly urge you to consider, Mr. Governor, putting those signs to better use for future travellers.

Thank you,

Author of the Blog You Do Not Read

Strang,

I know that the whole wearing-your-pants-around-your-butt is considered cool and hip in some circles. I'm more of a belt-wearer myself, but to each their own, y'know? But I do have a little advice. If you're going to wear your pants super low, please wear underwear. Boxers preferable, but anything will help.

Sincerely,
Author of the Blog You Do Not Read

Dear Good People At 93Q,

I was a bit surprised to see you at the Bleu Edmondson show. The four people or so that you had passing out fliers and whatnot certainly weren't free. After you left, Bleu thanked you for taking the time to show up. I would have joined with him in that appreciation, except that I think that time, money, and resources might be better spent actually looking outside "country's" top 40 and playing his music every now and again. instead of probing his audience for people to listen to the exact kind of country music that we go to places like the Firehouse to avoid.

Just sayin'...

Best,
Author of the Blog You Do Not Read

Dear Spyware People Who Hijacked My Internet Explorer,

What precisely is the point of setting your site as the homepage of Internet Explorer and then slowing down Internet explorer to such a degree that it's rendered unusable? I know that you want to turn a profit and I know that you're just evil, but sometimes those two characteristics collide and, for what it's worth, I'd much rather you try to sell me something than disable a program.

Even if it is a Microsoft program.

Best,
Author of the Blog You Do Not Read

Dear Coworker,

I'm not trying to be cruel here, but it's time for a reality check. You are about 5'7" and probably weigh in excess of 250 pounds. Even as far as heavier women go, you're rather unremarkable. I'm not advocating that you crawl into some sort of introverted shell. Outgoing, talkative, and confident can actually be rather attractive. I guess that's what your boyfriend sees in you because, frankly, I don't see much else there - and I'm not just talking about appearence. Regardless, I'm glad to see that you've found someone as I am a believer that everyone deserves someone.

I've spent the last week or so trying to figure you out. Don't flatter yourself, it comes with the territory of a 45-minute lunch that we unfortunately share. I've tried to come up with benign explanations for your behavior, but I have found none. In fact, every one of them that I have found has painted a dreadful picture of either you (or him, making you look bad by association). Here is a list of plausible explanations I've come up with:

Your boyfriend is a worthless, insecure bum. If your expectations of him are not unreasonable and he is failing to meet them, then you should probably find someone that is more to your liking. As you've made repeated derogatory comments about his appearence, I'm assuming it's not a simple matter of feeling that you can't do better in a superficial way. So if you're choosing to consort with an ugly, unemployed (for now, at least) bum, that says as much about you as it does about him. If he's simply down on his luck or just hasn't been able to find a job yet, you should re-think some of the invective that your hurling his way regarding his appearence, job status, and ambition.

Your expectations of your boyfriend are unreasonable. You mention that he graduated from the university last week and has not found a job yet, so that suggests that perhaps your expectations are a tad aggressive in light of an unspectacular job market. I realize that you hold a glamorous job in customer support at eight dollars an hour, so congratu-fraggin-lations on that, but consider for a moment that he now has a college degree and now may be able to get out of such jobs as the one that we have. Or, if he's an English major, see above.

Your boyfriend is a sad sack of manure because you constantly deride him. Maybe there's not much he can do about his appearence, but as mentioned before confidence is attractive and when you are constantly telling him how "fine" Brad Pitt is, I doubt that does very much for him in the confidence department. When you say that it makes him pissed off and whiny and that you "don't give a shit," consider for a moment that some people, somewhere, some times, do actually have feelings. It's apparent that you don't have much in the way of that, but it's something to consider.

Your boyfriend isn't the sad sack of manure that you claim he is and you know it. You simply say these things because it makes you feel like you are in control. It gives you confidence that you otherwise lack to pretend that you are the smart, attractive, and powerful one in the relationship. It's a long fall from that pedastal. I suggest you be careful.

You don't actually have a boyfriend. This one is unlikely, but I can't help but notice that you haven't mentioned his name. It also seems weird that a witch like you would actually have such control over anyone.

If you were reading this, you would probably tell me to mind my own gawddammed business. I'd be glad to. All I need is for you to shut up about it.

Sincerely,
Author of a Blog You Do Not Read

Dear Those UT Alumni That Said The UT-A&M Game Was an Automatic Win,

I just heard about you idiots on TV.

Regardless of who is the underdog, it's never automatically in the win column.

Sincerely,
Non-UT Alum And Author of the Blog You Do Not Read

Dear Lord,

Remember that incident in March of 1999? Of course it's in Your database somewhere, but I figure there are a lot of records in there, so I'll just go ahead and remind You. I was driving down I45 when out of nowhere the pickup in front of me changed lanes at the last possible second to avoid an HL&P service van that had stopped right in the middle of the freeway. Luckily (or by Your grace, whichever), there weren't any cars around me so I was able to swerve much as the pickup had.

Remember how I wasn't wearing a seatbelt?

I was on top of the world. Thoughts of law school were just entering my mind. My relationship with Anna was at its height. I was 6'5" and weighed under two-hundred pounds. I'd never picked up a cigarette. If I had died then, I would have died on top of the world.

Things have changed a lot since then. They've become a lot more difficult. I'm never going to be a lawyer and make a million dollars. I broke Anna's heart and then Elciem came along and broke mine. I'm twenty-five, unemployed, living with my parents, and in a state of elongated flux. I hate flux.

The long and short of it is that life hasn't been easy. Then again, that's all part of the grand design. In fact, those that have been born into wealth and influence are often the most unhappy of all. I'm just as guilty of this. I was born into the middle class. My college was paid for by two parents that didn't get a free ride. I was born in a state that claims me as its own no matter where I go, raised in a state that doesn't care that I wasn't born here, and a resident of the most prosperous nation in the history of the world.

More than that, I have a family that loves me. I have better friends than I could ever ask for or deserve. I'd like to think that I've become stronger and wiser in the adversity I've faced, however small it is in the greater scheme of things.

Naturally, there have been times where I've been unhappy; When I scream, cry, and am too red to do much of anything at all... when I'm heartbroken, sad, hurt, angry, and hopeless...

life is still good.

Thank You,

Author of the Blog That You Probably Need Not Read

Note: It appears this couple-year-old post is making the rounds in email. Just to clarify a bit I am not anti-law enforcement nor am I pro-speeding. In fact, it's because I'm not a regular speeder that I was so angry at what I felt was a speed trap. In any case, to the extent that my accusation that Riesel set the speed limit too low is prema facie incorrect because the state sets the speed limits, I apologize. My apparently incorrect views were largely based on the existence of artificially low speed limits throughout Texas, the South, and elsewhere and that townships have found a way to turn ticketing otherwise safe drivers into a cottage industry. Riesel may not be guilty of this and my assumption that they were (given that they apparently did not set the speed limits I take issue with) was unfair. While I am not the only one to make this unfair assumption about Riesel, I probably should have followed my initial instincts and left the town's name out of the post so as not to single them out. And regardless, regardless of what I thought the policies of Riesel to be, the sleights on the township itself of Riesel were in poor taste.

Hon. Mayor David Guenat, Jr.;

I have driven from Houston to Waco scores of time, but only this past weekend have I become familiar with your town's existence. I hope it does not hurt your esteemed feelings to hear this, but a town with a population under 900 does is fairly easy to miss. I see that you have instituted an outreach program with your local police department in the form of moving violations so that we all may come to see and understand what I'm sure is the greatness of Riesel, Texas.

Changing speed limits five times in a strech of road shorter than the football field is, I'm sure, an effort to keep drivers on alert of the following three matters:

• There is, in fact, a town in existence some 18 miles outside of Waco and to not let the vacant gas station and store delude anyone to think that said town is nothing short of a vibrant community 350-families strong.
• As we have only a handful of yards to slow down from 70 to 60 and then from 60 to 45, our breaks do (or do not) work.
• A stern reminder of the two-second rule when following an automobile. While there was no traffic during my visit, I'm sure if there had been it would have been a good reminder as all the cars slam on their breaks.
• Last, of course, to keep an eye out for ever-changing speed limits. Your attempts at keeping us on our heels did not go unnoticed amidst the flashing lights and $190 ticket.

I'd also like to congratulate you on your cunning and fundraising apparatus. Putting the 45mph limit on the other side of a hill so that one has to keep an extra close eye on the side of the road for falling, falling, falling speed limits instead of on the road was a very nice touch. Putting the 60mph sign on the front side of the hill to lull us into a false sense of security in regards to the previous "Reduced Speed Ahead" was also quite wise.

I must confess: You got me.

I'm not writing merely to thank you for your awareness efforts in regards to your small town, there is a small matter of business I'd like to speak to you about. As I'm sure that you're aware, Texas law prohibits a municipality to raise more than 1/3 of its revenue through traffic violations. As your tax base is limited, I'm sure that this hinders your ability to fund a police department to write your expensive welcome notices.

Might I propose a way around this troublesome law. Several communities in the Houston area have what is known as "deferred adjudication", which allows someone to get out of a traffic ticket if they don't get another ticket in said municipality within 90 days. Before you worry about lost revenue, that's the beauty of it. Instead of charging a fine, you can institute an administrative fee. Several cities, from Pasadena (population 142,000) to Taylor Lake Village (population 4,000) mark the administrative fee as the cost of the ticket.

So what difference does it make? I'm so glad you asked.

Because it's an administrative fee, which has two advantages:

• My insurance rates don't go up because my insurance company is left blissfully unaware of our dealings.
• You don't lose sleep at night for knowing your little vampire town is not sucking us financially dry via insurance rate hikes (which, I should point out, is not money out of your pocket) and a ton of other headaches.
• Most importantly, since it is an administrative fee it does not count towards your municipal moving violation fine cap, meaning you can hand out as many of those boogars as you like and have a parade.
• Since traffic flow and drivers' time is obviously so unimportant to you, a parade would be a way to both stall traffic considerably and raise awareness. Sure, people will be cursing your town's existence, but as those of us who've already met with your Blue Light Welcoming Committee will attest, we already do.

I hope you will lend my thoughts serious consideration.

Sincerely,
Author of the Blog You Do Not Read

Dear Holey Pants & Incomprehensible Formerly Black Shirt,

We've been through a lot together, my friends.

Holey Pants, we've both changed a lot over over the years. I was almost five inches shorter when we first met. I was wearing you when I first met Sarah Goddess and fell for her in New Braunfels. You were there during my timultuous junior high years. You held together.

Of course, over time the wear and tear took its toll on you and eventually that wear deemed you against the dress code. I know, I know, you tried as hard as you could, and I have accomodated you as best I can. Unfortunately, the hole has gotten so big that it exposes the pocket which looks like underwear. And though it pains me to say it, I must be honest with you. You've been replaced. Another pair of pants have worn thin and holes have formed. I now have a new friend to keep my legs not-so-warm-because-of-holes when I'm doing laundry, and your services are just no longer required. You have Sarah Goddess, but those pants have someone else. Time marches on, my friend, and it's time for you to go.

Incomprehensible Formerly Black Shirt, please don't think that this is easy for me. Remember when we first met? You were in the unclaimed clothes bin in the Seabrook Intermediate PE dressing room. I needed a shirt that day and I adopted you. I don't know what you said then, and I don't know what you say now. Something about "Peace NO Piece" and "Peace makes the world go round."

It seems our politics are at odds, but we've been good friends. You've turned gray with age, your letters faded more than they were even faded when we met. The lettering at the bottom, which appears to be a series of colors only emphasizes your colorlessness over the years.

Unfortunately, your collar and sleeves are fraying and you've become stretched so thin that you feel more like an undershirt. Remember Tim's wedding? When I forgot my undershirt? You made such a good one... for a (formerly) black shirt. You caught all the sweat, and the sweat you carried I'm sure has worn you down. You were there for me, and I will never forget you.

Say high to the High Holey Maroon Football Undershirt and Boston Bruins Unintentional Spaghetti Shirt for me, if you would. I'd greatly appreciate it.

Sincerely,

Author of the Block You Cannot Read

Holey Pants 1992-2003, RIP
Incomprehensible Formerly Black Shirt 1990-2003, RIP