I knew my short airing of grievances might stir some feathers, but I had no idea what strange and oddly delicious consequence it would have. It seems that an unusual alliance formed shortly after your publishing the piece on December 30th. Two parties heretofore only acquaintances via strange gender- biased clothing-optional soirees and otherwise only linked in their previous friendship with yours truly and thenceforth hatred of the same seem to have linked together to express their distaste for my rhetoric by engaging in industrial baking. I was greeted this morning at my door by a package of unknown origins. Having just been released from some kind of low-security prison I expected it to be some of my belongings I might have left behind, but instead discovered a box of gold-wrapped cylindrical chocolate wafers. I instinctively unwrapped one and took a bite, before I realized the inside of the wrapper was imprinted with slanderous quotes about me! I was, of course, instantly concerned that the pastry might be poisoned, but having already taken a bite I was forced to simply wait it out and after the course of many minutes I decided that was not the case. They were in fact quite tasty. But as I read the vile words attacking my character that had sat so closely to the sweetness of the sugary goodness, I was left with a deep sense of contention within.
Dealing With Dallas, Texas, Jan. 5, 2010
The writer had a weird-ass dream last night.