I don't know why I write these things. Mom told me I'd never amount to anything, and she was always right. Also dead these days, and you know what they say about dead people? If you do, please contact me because I probably want to know.
I just wanted to congratulate you on that arthritis of yours. Not everyone can do that. Sorry about the pain and all. Would you like some roasted cockroaches? Mom made them just for me, for my birthday, but I've sort of grown out of that snack, especially since I turned 40, and I don't dare tell her.
If Mom hadn't told me to shave more often I'd still have hairy eyeballs. She knows her shit, Mom does.
I saw a flying saucer today. When Mom threw it at me. Good thing too. It's the ones you don't see coming that do the most damage.
I think Mom only wanted me for parts. Part of me feels that way. I'd better not say which one, for now, but it's definitely one.
I wonder what we would do if they took the streets away. Mom might know. She's old. Used to be old anyway. She might know.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@gmail.com
Me? Recently nominated but I don't know for what. Something.
