Once again, it's time to open the mail bag and respond to letters from you, the public!
Dear Mr. Gneech,
I never thought I'd find myself doing this, but I am compelled to write and tell you that I have come unplugged.
The Portable Fan On Your Desk
More fan mail! What a thrill. :)
Dear Mr. Gneech,
I would like to protest in the strongest possible terms against the LiveJournal post you made on Sunday, September 30th, in which you said that you were, and I quote, "so friggin' hungry." Unfortunately, I don't know what the strongest possible terms are, so I'm not even going to send you this note.
Timplesneezer of Pomslebry-Brigg
The strongest possible terms are "superlatives." Glad I could clear that up for you.
What's black and white and wears a fur coat?
The second Doctor. And speaking of the Doctor...
Thump. Wheeeeeeze, wheeeeeeze, wheeeeeeeeze, whoosh whoosh whoosh, zwop zwop zwop, pyew pyew pyew. Thump.
I seem to have a lot of notes from inanimate objects today.
Dear Teh Gench:
Who gives any thing to poor Tom? whom the foul fiend hath led through fire and through flame, and through ford and whirlipool e'er bog and quagmire; that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters in his pew; set ratsbane by his porridge; made film proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting-horse over four-inched bridges, to course his own shadow for a traitor. Bless thy five wits! Tom's a-cold, --O, do de, do de, do de. Bless thee from whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking! Do poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes: there could I have him now, --and there, --and there again, and there.
Edgar, son of Gloucester
And who can argue with that?