Monday, August 6, 2012

Tha Raturn












Dear Aaliyah (ft. Timbaland),
I wish you hadn'ta left us, left us, without a dope beat to step to, step to, step to, step to.

Dear Mom,
I don't do "chores" I'm on fucking TV.

Dear Aspiring Actors Moving To LA,
Honestly your biggest fear should be moving into a haunted apartment. Old Hollywood, whattup!

Dear Children,
The Greeks have opa! The Latins have ¡olĂ©! The Juggalos have whoop whoop!

Dear Cancer,
Don't you observe holiday hours? Fuck, just let my dad walk up the stairs!

Dear Mom,
I didn't come here to see the dachshunds. I came here to eat chips and argue, and I'm all outa chips...and arguments...alright give me your shitty little dogs.

Dear Rick Moranis,
You're like the dad I never had to blow me up into bigger. Meaning, inspiration.

Dear Guy At Amoeba,
You lost me at "live."

Dear Guy At Amoeba,
You lost me at "Earth" "Wind" and "Fire." You lost me at all of those.

Dear Chik-fil-a,
U-r-gay.

Dear Debbie: Macy's Cashier,
I know I swiped my iPhone and not my debit card, I know I did that.

Dear Gigi,
I see the "_____ days without an accident" board is no longer incentive.

Dear Gigi,
Of House Salazar

Dear Rap Career,
Nah.

Dear Mom,
If silence is golden, you're as poor as I'd be if I had a nickel for every time I heard silence around you.

Dear Men,
You're gonna like high-waisted things now.

Dear Rappers,
A lady on the street and an Area 51 mutant in the bed.

Dear Solar Power,
Move over for my new energy source: The Universe. No need to bolt panels onto your roof to harness energy- just fuckin' ask.

Dear Maroon 5,
Mick Jagger is rolling over in his grave.

Dear Flirty Bartender,
I draw the line at certified bartender.

Dear Neighbor,
Ha, yea, maybe it is funny that I subscribe to the New Yorker. But you know what isn't funny? The climate crisis that is having a disastrous effect on corn crops. But you probably read all about that because you can [probably] read!

Please handle my clothes while they are still wet, I love that.

Sincerely,
214

Dear Warwick Davis,
In short, I love you.

Dear Rappers,
You can use this lyric:
I got the game in a headlock, wrapped up like a dread lock.
OR
You can keep your career. Up to you.

Dear My Sister's Boyfriend,
That's it! You have convinced me to watch every single Final Destination movie based on your theory that all 5 films ''tie together in a awesome way.''

Dear Jerk-Off,
You are what you beat.

Dear Music Snob,
Konono No., of course you aren't a-Noi-ing.

Dear Body,
This is what David Bowie was taking about in "Changes" and also (weirdly enough) "Ashes to Ashes."

Dear Public,
Restaurant + you = Shoes + feet.

Dear Shitty Friend,
Don't you worry, I'm only gaining success in order for you resent me. So see, it's still all about you!

Dear David Bowie,
You should win an academy award for your work as Michael Fassbender.

Dear Women's Gymnastics,
Are you men's gymnastics?

Dear Gotye,
Getye self another song.

Dear Reader,
It's been a long time...

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