Dear Luluemon Chris

Thanks for the response to my previous letter, which follows:

“this is pure loser talk. spend the time you spend hating on everything, and go get something for yourself!”

It’s obvious you are a sweetheart, so I’ll kindly respond with a few things:

I’m assuming the advice you have graciously provided is coming from a position of experience. I’m assuming you consider yourself a winner. I’m assuming you spend your time not “hating on everything.” I’m assuming you use that time to “go get something for yourself!”

Note: I’m well aware “assuming” makes “asses of you and me.”

That said, I’m sort of confused about the general spirit it was written.

“go get something for yourself”

What does that mean exactly? A glass of water? A large TV? An $82 T-shirt claiming to utilize seaweed to absorb sweat yet does NOT actually contain seaweed? How ’bout a state of enlightened state of nirvana that is free from the burdensome trappings of modern consumer culture.

Note: Yoga does not require an $82 T-Shirt nor seamless pants.

“this is pure loser talk”

First, this is pure loser writing. There is a difference.

Secondly, there is safety in numbers and there will always be more losers than winners. I like that.

Besides, without losers there would be no one to envy you and your winner comrades in your yoga loft engaging in an endless circle jerk to end all circle jerks.


Fergis T. McGillicuddy

PS: Words beginning sentences require capitalization. I know you know where the shift key is because you used an exclamation point at the end of your sentence.

PPS: You are a douche.

PPPS: Seriously.

PPPPS: I don’t have anything against circle jerks or yoga even… Just stupidity.

PPPPPS: I think you are stupid.

PPPPPPS: No. Seriously.

To The Commenter Known As “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.


Fergis T. McGillicuddy

Dear Ham Chedley

My local Rogers has a porno section now! The
convinience! I can rent hardcore porn at the same time
as regular movies and videogames. I don’t need to
leave my house ever again, except to go to and from
the video store. Someone should have thought of this
several years ago.

—Ham Chedley

Dear Ham Chedley

Porno eh? The idea of walking up to the Rogers counter with Gang Bang Sluts 9 or Barely Legal #87 and casually handing it to the clerk named “Troy” or “Lisa : assistant manager” doesn’t seem appealing to me. I can imagine the customers behind in line are clutching their precious copy of The Lake House or whatever along with their kids, while the pervert ahead of them is renting some Dom/Sub whack-off shit. I’m not saying that would be you either. I’m talking about the average suburban family man who will slip said filth into their Lake House-type family movies.

“No, I’m not going to bed honey, I’ve got a lot of work to finish before I can sleep,” says Joseph Family-pants.

“Okay,” says Wifey Family-pants, who learned a long-time ago to not question her Familly-pants husband.

He starts loving really freaky shit. He writes letters and sends gifts to his favourite porn starlets. He rents movies every night. He obsesses over destruction of the rental slips, lest  they fall into the clutches of his massive family and reveal his expanding X-rated tastes. Eventually he succumbs to Porno Madness and leaves his family for a cabin in the hills where he can masturbate constantly. Of course, the video store clerks have seen the tragedy in every phase since the beginning. I doubt Rogers has psychological counselling for the video clerks factored into the franchise operating budget. Nevertheless, I think it is sweet the Rogers rents hardcore.


Fergis T. McGillicuddy

Dear Fergis T. McGillicuddy

I found your last letter lazy, sophomoric and crass. I thought you were more professional than that. You’ve got to get your shit together Fergis. Bourbon doesn’t grow on trees. You won’t get the scratch for it by penning smarmy celebrity gossip. Who knows how you’ll get it? You certainly don’t.

Put some effort in boy. Craft a witty and well-thought out letter to Frankenstein’s Monster, a wine decanter or foreign politics.


Fergis T. McGillicuddy

To Rebecca, and other Dog, the Bounty Hunter Fans

This is a letter from a fan…of reality television.

I love your show and I whatch it every time your on Beth is so funny I love to see you and your team work as a team I had a hard time and life and then I saw your show and I know it was all about my choises
have a good day and keep up your hard work


Hello Rebecca. I don’t have a show. So you must have been watching something else. In the future, it may be in your best interest to end your sentences with a period. It’s that key that has a dot on it. While you’re at it, it might help to run your work through a spellchecker. Or you could just read things…

I sympathize with your hard life and times. However, I can’t sympathize with your abuse of the English language. There isn’t much that I get upset in this world, but this is one of these things. Please get yourself a membership to your local public library and get out a few books. They can be about anything. Just start reading…

That goes for everybody who wrote their own letters to Dog on this website. While I appreciate that you took the time to plug a few words into a search engine and then plug a few more words into the “leave a comment field,” you must realize I am not Dog. I am a poor, lazy, drunk, Canadian writer. I may be lonely, but I don’t enjoy reading the heartfelt musings to somebody I don’t know. It probably boils down to insecurities on my part. I desperately seek validation from strangers, so if you’d like to tell me I’ve changed your life for the better then go ahead. But leave the “Dog Love” to somebody else.

Thank you,

Fergis T. McGillicuddy

PS: You left your comment under my Extremely Short Fictions category. I found that odd, as it has nothing to do with anything. Good luck with everything though.

Open letter to the Canadian Post Office


You conduct some shady business practices. First, I pay you for forwarding my mail to my new address. You hold my mail for weeks without delivery. Then you leave a note saying where I can find my time-sensitive package–at a post office several blocks away. Secondly, when I get there, you tell me I owe more money–$11.85! Assholes! Finally, when I get home, there’s another note that I can’t possibly decipher. The sender’s name is on top of my address! What does that mean!?


Fergis T. McGillicuddy

To the person who found this site while searching for ‘Sorry I hurt you letters’


I’m sorry you found this site while you needed to find a reliable source of work that could be used to patch things up. I don’t write those kinds of letters. Not for free anyway.

This brings me to a troubling topic that has been stewing in my brain for a long time. You see, the Internet strangers that visit my letters the most, are usually searching for content related to suicide. They find the open letter I wrote to reading week. It’s probably not what they are looking for.

People rarely find my site after searching for hilarious commentary on breakfast cereals or hard liquor or politics. That worries me, as I’ve put great effort towards those topics. And not suicide.

At any rate, I hope you found something amusing enough to pass on to your significant other. I’m sure you are a catch. A misunderstood catch.


Fergis T. McGillicuddy

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