A Love Letter in Three Parts

Love. Love is a many-splendored thing. Love lifts you up where you belong. All you need is love!

And yes, that’s what I have received. Love. Even though your usual professional comedian wouldn’t recognize this as love,  *I* have the brain cells to realize exactly what this is that I have received in the mail.

It may have masqueraded as a fragrant, green pile of horse shit. But this? Marked as a “Halloween Gag Gift” and came from Slovenia? Slovakia? Saskatoon? Whatever… THIS IS LOVE!!!!

And guess who it is from? That’s right! ERIC! At first I thought it might have been from Grady, as a sign that he really didn’t mean that peace order he signed out against me and was awarded. I’m so disappointed. But this? This is a sign, I’m sure. Soon, Eric, you are going to get a present from me. Slathered in mayo. Well, at least the same color as mayo so that you can’t determine the difference between the two, but whatever…

The only thing is why haven’t you been bragging about this to the others who have been convincing him that my love isn’t true? I mean, I have a note written from you in your own handwriting! In block letters even! You went to Slaskatoon to harvest this fragrant bundle of green just for me and enclosed a note that said “HERE IS THE STUFF YOU TALK.” This, folks, is true love. TRUE LOVE! Not quite the kind of love that I recorded about the Boy Scouts in that tent. That is real, abiding anal love, the kind that stays with you forever. Unfortunately most of you don’t know about its joys but you will, you will… just buy my CD.

Anyway, back to this love letter from ERIC! OMG I am just overcome. Really and truly. I’m so convinced it was you. You are the most recent in my mind, so of course it has to be from you. You love and care for me so much. This is just the cherry on the top of sundae. Admittedly it’s horse shit, and green not red, but I know what you meant. Cherries can be green. They aren’t as good as the maraschino cherries but they are still candied and yummy delicious.

But Eric, my wife opened it, and now she is privy to our affair. I’m afraid that maybe she will kick me out of this trailer and you are so very, very far away. But I know how to make you come to me Eric. I will call… THE FEDS!

You see, I was once a FED myself. I was a SEAMAN! SEAMAN SLURPER!!11!!!! Oh wait. I’m not supposed to let on that I LOVE that name. Sorry. I served during the Lesbianese Civil War! Which was super important to America, which of course you all know. And I was a GS13!! I had to be approved by Congress you Lickspittles! Bet you didn’t know that. Well, my position had to be approved. Not necessarily me. But still. That makes ME important to the FEDS. They will listen to me! Which will stop Gail from suspecting me from having an affair.

Gail mustn’t suspect that I really liked receiving this horse shit. Because frankly it smelled a whole lot better than what she has to clean from my depends when I make biggs. She might like it if more packages started being delivered and this has to be kept secret. She can’t open any more of these packages Eric! You can’t send me anymore! But I know you will because you can’t stay away. You love me that much and can’t wait to be my Boy Scout. Oh I have to go get another jar of mayo now…

Back again! I know how to cover for all of this! My outrage will be MAGNIFICENT!!!! I’ll demand an apology with a doom clock. And threaten to call the Feds on Monday. That’s it! I’ll turn over the whole shitaree over to the Feds on Monday. I was a Fed. I will talk with the Feds. Fed to Fed. And THEY will get to the bottom of this. I’ll have proof of your everlasting love and Gail will know that I’m not unfaithful. Like I was with that tranny.

Unfortunately it will look like I’m trying to make your life hell. Oh, I’ll rant and rave on Twitter, typing to no one because no one listens to me anymore while I stalk the websites that I know you frequent. Because it’s the only way I can let you know that I care. That I see what you are trying to do. It’s how I show my love. The more I rant and rave, the more you will know that I care. Oooh! And I can get the postal inspectors involved! It’s just so perfect! Ultimate perfection! They will add to the whole thing so that you will know the length and depth of my devotion! It’s brilliant!

Oh God. Length and depth. Length and depth. Have to go get more mayo…


Eric. Oh Eric. I’ve had time to think long and hard about this. Very long…. Hard… oh my… ahem! Your continual denials without even a hint of coyness can only mean one thing. This really wasn’t from you. But now I know who it was from. HOWARD!!! Finally I have convinced him that I truly desire to know him. To bring him to my love of mayo.

But Howard? He likes it hard. He makes me work for him. So very, very hard…. So now my anguish must reach even higher heights to let him know that I’m sincere. I’ve worked on getting Howard’s affections for such a long time. He has always brushed me off time and time again. But now. Now I’m drawing him in. And I KNOW that he’s the one who paid for this. Because you know who he is? CHRIS HEATHER!!!!! OMG!!11!!! Chris has been taunting me from afar for so long. Making me ache for his sweet, sweet whispered nothings into my ear.

All those times I teased him about that poor dead girl that beat him up? Well, you know, I really knew that that wasn’t the case. I just wanted to get him to realize that a woman like that could never make him into a real man. Like I could. The only way you can find out that you need something is to have your mistakes pointed out to you over and over and over again. And ridiculed.

That evil witch LibraryGryffon is making things difficult. She and Grace have always stood between Howard and I finding each other. Frankly I think they are both the same person. That way it makes it sound like I’m so awful because it’s coming from two different people. Why would she do this? I think she really wants me as well and is trying deliberately to keep me from finding those who desire me, so she eggs them on in saying things and denying the real feelings that they have inside.

But who cares because she is just a woman. Only there to make me my footlong. Like Gail. Put more mayo on it woman! Before I give you sunglasses again!

But how to get Howard to admit that he cares… I know! The Postal Inspector! I’ll keep researching the laws regarding manure being sent and keep pulling out the wrong thing to make him afraid that I really want something bad to happen to him for sending me this love gift. THAT will send him running into my arms. It will be the only way to fully bring him into my large orbit. He will LOVE being in my orbit….


Is it possible that I have misread all of this? All of my bluster and bluff thinking first it was Eric and then Howard? Could it possibly be? You know what it could be from? This ultimate gift of true, lasting love?


OMG, OMG, OMG, OMG, I’m practically quivering with desire at the thought that the two of them have partnered together to send me this tub-o-manure, this gift to get me to notice them even more than I already do.

Hoge has teased me for so long. He draws me in and then pushes me away. Like Bill Cosby said Eve did to Adam… “Come here, come here, come here! No, get away, get away, get away…” Those orders he filed against me. And especially the one he last renewed, when he said that he wasn’t going to try and renew it. It’s all part of his plan to make me CRAZY with desire for him, and this fragrant, wet delivery is all part of it.

And Krendler. KREEENDLEEEEERRRRR!!!!! the most elusive one of all. He dances at the fringes of my mind. Tormenting me. Teasing me. Tantilizing me. He and Hoge have been knee deep in their conspiracy to keep me panting and begging and begging and panting. The two of them together have made me spiral into this vortex of desire. No one else on this earth can make me feel this way. Not even the excitement when I was on stage with the tranny comes close to this. And that was really exciting.

It is the culmination of the desperate search for love that I have been sending out all over the internet these last few years. That Daily Kos article about butt sex? Mere foreplay to see who would be interested in true man love. The harassment of the Wisconsin Knots? Mere warm-ups. This. Krendler and Hoge. Hoge and Krendler. Over and over and over. This is the way I can finally achieve my climax. No more pretending with the mayo. No more feeling less and less like a man.


The police and the FBI and the Postal Inspectors will bring them to me. And then. At last. At long, long last. We three can satisfy ourselves with what we want. What we need. I don’t know if any of us will survive the pleasure of the encounter. It will be far too intense. The glory will explode from my trailer and everyone will know what has happened and how wonderful it all was.

But what a way to go, eh?


An Oldie But A Goodie

One of my hobbies is flea markets and rummage sales. I like to wander around looking for cool stuff, admiring it, haggling for deals, and people-watching.

Today, I picked up an old ornamental lamp for 75 cents. I have a good spot for it on a shelf behind the wet bar. Of course it was a little dingy, so I got a rag and started rubbing it up a bit.

And out popped a ragged-looking genie. He was a little pissed at being disturbed.

“Awright, Jack,” he said. “Ya gots t’ree wishes comin’. What’s it gonna be?”

I have no idea why he talked like a Brooklyn street thug from the fifties, but whatever.

“Okay,” I said, rubbing my hands together, “let’s start with cash. I wish for $500 million in he bank.”

The genie snapped his fingers and said “Done. Oh, and I t’ink I didn’t mention, ev’ry wish I grant youse, the Elkridge Horror gets a double-up. So he’s good for a cool billion. Capisce?”

I thought about that for a minute.

“Yeah. I got it.”

Knowing what I do about the Horror’s overall health situation, I chose my next wish with no small amount of glee. “I wish for a dozen beautiful women to be at my beck and call whenever I want.”

The genie snapped his fingers again. “12 new contacts in your phone, with photos. But the Horror just got 24.”

“Fine by me. I don’t think he’ll be able to make much use of them. And it won’t matter for long anyway.

“For my third and final wish, I want those women to beat me half to death.”


Well, Here's A Giant Shock

The Tub’o’shit is lying to his law enforcement pals about the tub’o’shit he received!


Quoting: “I am afraid of what I’m going to get in the mail next. I received this last Friday and the shock so affected my Parkinson’s disease symptoms, I lost my balance and bashed my face of the living room floor.”

This is not just a lie, it’s a terrible lie, told by a terrible liar. A proven liar.

Let me show you. My sources are unassailable.

Friday, November 28:
Tub’o pets dog, fall down go boom. Posts photo with psycho face.

Saturday, November 29, 9:25AM:
More details & pictures about the Friday Faceplant.

Then, at 11:23 AM, about 13 hours after the Friday Faceplant, the subject abruptly turns…


Now, right about midday, suddenly it’s Horseshit Saturday.

Faceplant Friday before Horseshit Saturday.

But like always, the truth doesn’t make Tub’o look like ENOUGH of a victim. So he needs to enhance his tale of woe. Like always.

Such a narcissist. A lying narcissist. A proven, terrible, lying, narcissist with mayonnaise breath.