Dear Letting Agents, You Corrupt, Slime-Mongering Vampires

Repent for your sins!

With the credit crunch forcing cash-strapped Britons to abandon ownership of their shoebox-sized homes for actual shoe boxes, nobody is happier than you, the stygian-souled Letting Agent.

“Wait,” you say. “I provide an essential service that assists both inept landlords and overwhelmed tenants navigate the all-too tasking world of property lettings.”

Ha. What wretched things you must imagine while you pleasure yourself to sleep on a huge pile of your victims’ sorrow.

I’ll always remember the way “Bruce” showed me around the “suite” mentioning the extra-environmental heating system, the new coat of paint, the brand new furnishings… then casually mentioning the small matter of the agency fee: £240… for 15 minutes of “work.” Ah, that’s how you can afford that new BMW.

It should provide me a bit of solace to think that a few people are profiting off the misfortune of others… but it doesn’t.

Cheers,

Fergis T. McGillicuddy

Dear Makers, Owners and Operators of the Large Hadron Collider

Many members of the public seem to be concerned that today’s experiment will create a miniature black hole. One that will quickly gain energy by devouring matter, growing in size until the entire Earth is vaporised in a terrifyingly cosmic blink-of-an eye.

I am not one of those people. However, I am concerned about monsters.

The big bang created the universe without towering 60 ft. flesh-eating spider squids that excrete flaming acid from leathery tendrils of teeth and fangs, but maybe this new mini-big bang will draw a different number in the monster-possible lottery.

Like others, I’ve heard the repeated assurances the LHC is perfectly safe. You’re the experts… and perhaps the first meals a pan-dimensional Lovecraftian horror has enjoyed in a non-eon. Shub-Niggurath cannot be contained with conventional weaponry, you know.

Enjoy,

Fergis T McGillicuddy

Dear Hillary Clinton

                              

It’s time. Cut your losses and give up the campaign. There are better ways to spend your time.

Head back to one of your multi-million dollar mansions. Re-connect with Bill. Watch some 24 together. Share a romantic meal .

See, the thing is, deep down, you are scary. It’s true. You know it. I know it. And, well, America knows it.

“I’m not scary,” you say. “Look at my track record on human rights, women’s rights, and other rights. etc. etc.”

Yes, that may be true, but you appear as if you want to eat America.

I don’t think that is a quality the majority of Democrats want in a leader.
Sincerely,

Fergis T. McGillicuddy

Dear Lululemon “Manifesto”

Recently, a bag told me what to do and what to think. I thought it made some ballsy assertions. Though this is obviously a “wall poster,” one can purchase the same misguided philosophy on a “shoulder bag.”

1. Do one thing a day that scares you.

I just tried crack. Does that count? I had to go to a really freaky part of town to buy it.

2. Jealousy works the opposite way you want it to.

What does this even mean? Never end your sentences with a preposition.

3. Life is full of set backs. Success is determined by how you handle setbacks.

This is basically a description of basic economics re-interpreted through the eyes of a new-age marketing department. A sports company could put “the best way to win a game is to score more goals than your opponent” onto their bags. But even hockey players know better.

Here’s some mental jujitsu for you:

4. Don’t trust that an old-age pension will be sufficient. 

Damn right, especially if I’m buying clothes at Lululemon. I better start working 24/7 and my job is so stressful…

5. Stress is related to 99% of illness.

The highly trained medical staff (even the people who take out the garbage at Lululemon have extensive scientific credentials. It’s a little known fact those “yoga studios” are top shelf medical research facilities.) have changed my life! I’m going to quit my job that is obviously conspiring to end my life to do yoga all day. Which will be easy because…

6. Friends are more important than money.

I get it now. I just need to pour my hot bum into a pair of seamless yoga pants and get somebody wealthy enough to pay my way through life. Live Lulu!

7. Listen, listen, listen, and then ask strategic questions.  

Having heard, heard, heard, I’ll ask this question: “Do you actually believe this crap?”

Sincerely,

Fergis T. McGillicuddy

To The Commenter Known As “Superman”

Superman:

There is nothing wrong with US President George Bush and Canadian Prime Minster Stephen Harper enjoying the benefit of each other’s companies…and military-industrial complexes.

We’ll never know what kind of strange conversations they have behind steel-reinforced doors, and what we don’t know obviously can’t hurt us.

However, what we do know is Mr. Bush refers to Mr. Harper as “Steve.” Nobody on the planet refers to Stephen Harper as “Steve.” Not publicly, at least. Even the Queen of England calls him Stephen.

I believe Mr. Bush shouldn’t call him Stephen…even when Stephen is wearing his zip-up “outside” vest.

Sincerely,

Fergis T. McGillicuddy

A Valentine Message to My Special Someone (Who May Be a Zombie)

I’m not sure how to say this…but I think we need to take a look at our relationship. Valentine’s Day is probably not the best time to sort out our issues but after last night I don’t think I can go on. My family doctor insisted on it actually.

Did you know a bite from a human is extremely dirty? People’s mouths are filled with germs. A bite from a person is likely to become infected if not treated right away. I’ve needed to learn these sorts of things after I started dating you.

It’s weird, but I seem to find large portions of my flesh missing from my body when I wake up in the morning after we’ve gone out drinking.  It hurts to take off and put on clothes when there is open wounds on your arms and chest.

Another thing: I used feel flattered at your continuous mention of my intellect. You’d always be talking about my “brains…brains” while you gnawed on my neck. I’m not that smart. But I’m smart enough to know when to end it.

We had some good times,

Fergis T. McGillcuddy

PS: My buddy Johan really digged your style. Do you want me to give him your number?

To Ann Coulter

ann-big.jpg

You don’t have to be this way. I know I hurt you, but I was young. The truth is, you were boring. The constant drum circles and mushroom trips were interesting at first, but it was all you ever wanted to do. Plus, you never showered and that one big dreadlock smelled horrid. But you didn’t need to turn into a hate-mongering xenophobe just to impress me. I’d rather you bought me a puppy or ice cream. Perhaps you could have chanelled your frustration into a painting or prose-poetry.

I guess you’ve found success. I understand that you sell thousands of books to misguided individuals searching for somebody that hates other people more than they hate themselves. That’s fine. I hope you’re happy with yourself. But I won’t take you back. Ever.

Sincerely,

Fergis T. McGillicuddy