Hola! That means hello in Spanish. I'm not actually Spanish myself, but Randy sent out a corporate memo that says that we should try and appear more internationally-friendly. I quietly said, "Screw that" and set one of his favorite pairs of socks on fire. Unfortunately, he found out about it, covered me in Ben Gay, and then proceeded to throw Skittles at me until I cried. Oh, and he also demoted me back down to the mail room again.
Now, some of you more astute readers and cult followers may be aware that my first and only other update was also about mail. So, you ask, how can that be a demotion? I suppose it's not, really, but I was trying to work up the sympathy angle with you. You see, I have cancer. And not the good kind either. I have cancer of the left elbow and they don't think they'll be able to save it. I'm on the list for an elbow transplant but the line is long and the elbow supply is short. Perhaps I can construct something out of hardened macaroni. Well, at least I have my letters; good, clean letters sent in by people with real problems, people who need the help of the P.Net Answer Staff. Without further ado (or rambling on my part), let's get down to business!
Dear PNC Crew,
I have a pretty serious issue that I hope you can help me with. See, I think I am addicted to going to church. I don't know what it is -- I don't even particularly care for religion -- but I often find myself going at least six times a week. Sometimes I don't even stay that long, you know, just a couple of minutes or whatever but I have to go. Recently, my wife found out and has threatened to leave me if I don't get it under control. I love my wife, but I think I love feeding this addiction more. What can I do?
-- R. Rodgers
Dear R. Rodgers,
Wow, that does sound like a pretty serious issue. First, I have to ask whether your wife is hot or not. If she isn't, and it's just strictly about this "love" thing you mentioned, dump her. From what I have read in some of the pamphlets that I stole from a bible salesman, there are some hot caged bitches that go to church. I don't know if they go to your church -- the pamphlet didn't specify. Sure, they put on this front about how they're all goody goody and they respect their bodies, but that's just a ploy to fend off the stupid among us. I once paid a priest $5 if I could listen in on confession. Apparently it turns out that Ed is sleeping with Jane, but that's really not applicable here. Anyway, if none of those choir girls wants to hit sheets with you for some naked rodeo action, we also suggest kidnapping. However, if you decide against our advice to dump your wife, maybe you can try dry humping a crucifx or something. It works for us.
Yo P.Net,!!!!!!!,
Man, I am soooooo wasted right now. it's awesome. like, HEY, man, I, you know, man, I drank a lot. Whooooooo!!!! Party.!!!
- Greg
Dear Greg,
One time, in a lab, I created a new strain of the AIDS virus and named it after Sinead O'Conner. I kept it in a little petri dish and made sure to pet it every day. Eventually, it died -- HIV I think -- but not a single day passes that I don't think about that little guy. Honestly, you and it were a lot alike. Also, this one time at the store, I thought I saw someone who looked like Jay Leno. Only it turned out to not be Jay Leno, but the guy was staring at me. It really creeped me out. I think he was buying bananas or something.
Dear PN Staff,
Hey, they know. I don't know how they found out about it but now they know I know. I have to go into hiding. I don't know what I am going to do. I wish I could tell someone but I would only be putting that person in danger too. Crap, I was so careful. They must have been tracking me for a while. Like maybe a chip in my brain or something. Do you think they could do that? They got all kinds of resources. I know that my phone is tapped so I am sending this from a coffee house. Wait, there is some guy in the corner who keeps looking in my direction. He's been there a while, taking a little too long to drink his coffee, you know? I better get the hell out of here. I will contact again soon... assuming I make it that long.
- Anonymous (sent via the internet)
Hello Anonymous (if that's your real name),
Just so you know, I'm not supposed to be writing this reply. "They" stopped by the PNC Campus today looking for you. I told them that I didn't know who you were and that I have never spoken to you before. "They" didn't buy that one bit. Do you know what "they" did to me? They hooked electrodes up to my testicles and let me really have it. I mean, they fried enough unborn children that I'll be sterile for years. And you know what? It hurt like hell. Do you think that they stopped there? Nope. I won't go into details, but let's just say that it involved multiple cattle prods and me not being able to go number two for the next few weeks. So, thanks a lot mister Anonymous guy. Thanks for involving me in this whole thing. I'll be seeing you at Guantanamo Bay.
That's a wrap folks! No more letters today! You've all been bad boys and girls and it's time for you to sit in a corner and think about what you've done. Also, you should buy some girl scout cookies and send them to me. I love those things. I'm out!
Now, some of you more astute readers and cult followers may be aware that my first and only other update was also about mail. So, you ask, how can that be a demotion? I suppose it's not, really, but I was trying to work up the sympathy angle with you. You see, I have cancer. And not the good kind either. I have cancer of the left elbow and they don't think they'll be able to save it. I'm on the list for an elbow transplant but the line is long and the elbow supply is short. Perhaps I can construct something out of hardened macaroni. Well, at least I have my letters; good, clean letters sent in by people with real problems, people who need the help of the P.Net Answer Staff. Without further ado (or rambling on my part), let's get down to business!
Dear PNC Crew,
I have a pretty serious issue that I hope you can help me with. See, I think I am addicted to going to church. I don't know what it is -- I don't even particularly care for religion -- but I often find myself going at least six times a week. Sometimes I don't even stay that long, you know, just a couple of minutes or whatever but I have to go. Recently, my wife found out and has threatened to leave me if I don't get it under control. I love my wife, but I think I love feeding this addiction more. What can I do?
-- R. Rodgers
Dear R. Rodgers,
Wow, that does sound like a pretty serious issue. First, I have to ask whether your wife is hot or not. If she isn't, and it's just strictly about this "love" thing you mentioned, dump her. From what I have read in some of the pamphlets that I stole from a bible salesman, there are some hot caged bitches that go to church. I don't know if they go to your church -- the pamphlet didn't specify. Sure, they put on this front about how they're all goody goody and they respect their bodies, but that's just a ploy to fend off the stupid among us. I once paid a priest $5 if I could listen in on confession. Apparently it turns out that Ed is sleeping with Jane, but that's really not applicable here. Anyway, if none of those choir girls wants to hit sheets with you for some naked rodeo action, we also suggest kidnapping. However, if you decide against our advice to dump your wife, maybe you can try dry humping a crucifx or something. It works for us.
Yo P.Net,!!!!!!!,
Man, I am soooooo wasted right now. it's awesome. like, HEY, man, I, you know, man, I drank a lot. Whooooooo!!!! Party.!!!
- Greg
Dear Greg,
One time, in a lab, I created a new strain of the AIDS virus and named it after Sinead O'Conner. I kept it in a little petri dish and made sure to pet it every day. Eventually, it died -- HIV I think -- but not a single day passes that I don't think about that little guy. Honestly, you and it were a lot alike. Also, this one time at the store, I thought I saw someone who looked like Jay Leno. Only it turned out to not be Jay Leno, but the guy was staring at me. It really creeped me out. I think he was buying bananas or something.
Dear PN Staff,
Hey, they know. I don't know how they found out about it but now they know I know. I have to go into hiding. I don't know what I am going to do. I wish I could tell someone but I would only be putting that person in danger too. Crap, I was so careful. They must have been tracking me for a while. Like maybe a chip in my brain or something. Do you think they could do that? They got all kinds of resources. I know that my phone is tapped so I am sending this from a coffee house. Wait, there is some guy in the corner who keeps looking in my direction. He's been there a while, taking a little too long to drink his coffee, you know? I better get the hell out of here. I will contact again soon... assuming I make it that long.
- Anonymous (sent via the internet)
Hello Anonymous (if that's your real name),
Just so you know, I'm not supposed to be writing this reply. "They" stopped by the PNC Campus today looking for you. I told them that I didn't know who you were and that I have never spoken to you before. "They" didn't buy that one bit. Do you know what "they" did to me? They hooked electrodes up to my testicles and let me really have it. I mean, they fried enough unborn children that I'll be sterile for years. And you know what? It hurt like hell. Do you think that they stopped there? Nope. I won't go into details, but let's just say that it involved multiple cattle prods and me not being able to go number two for the next few weeks. So, thanks a lot mister Anonymous guy. Thanks for involving me in this whole thing. I'll be seeing you at Guantanamo Bay.
That's a wrap folks! No more letters today! You've all been bad boys and girls and it's time for you to sit in a corner and think about what you've done. Also, you should buy some girl scout cookies and send them to me. I love those things. I'm out!