Dear Trophy Making Companies,

When you have competitions to see who makes the best trophies, what kind of prizes do you give out?

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

Dear Brain,

Whenever I forget what I was going to say, I say, "I forget what I was going to say." What would happen if I forgot to say that?

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

Dear Queen Elizabeth II,

Your whole "knighting" thing is getting seriously out of hand. I mean, Sir Mick Jagger I can live with. Sir Paul McCartney and Sir Elton John, though questionable, I'll accept. But Sir Mix-A-Lot? When you're giving knighthoods to dudes who rap about big butts, that once honorable distinction is seriously played out.

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

Dear Barky,

How many times did I tell you not to mess with The Wizard? How often did I tell you not to hang out with gosh forsaken Ixnog?

On that fateful day when I let you roam the Plains of Tipklo by yourself, you gave word you wouldn't venture anywhere near Zonky Forest. But being the inquisitive canine you are, you just had to follow Ixnog to check out the Log of Theo.

While walking toward the Forest, you encountered The Wizard in Clumzaarz Village. Did you and Ixnog really think you'd succeed in stealing his Cloak of Legitimacy? Why didn't you just hide out in a Qru Bar or escape on a Carpet of Drath?

The fact that The Wizard threw a Fireball of Deception at your eyes comes as no surprise to me. And I totally understand why he cast a spell of Kvarnutchka upon your paws. I mean, you tried to steal his fucking Cloak!

You've rolled the 20-sided die one time too many, Barky. As a consequence, the Curse of Zaa-Zaa will be with you until the Golden Unicorn returns.

Sincerely,

The Rhezzorical Letter Writer

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Photo Submitted By: Courtney

Dear Canada,

I've heard rumors that in your country, Taco Bell's tagline is, "Make A Run For The Border...And Then The Next Border." Is this true? Please confirm.

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

Dear Blue Costume Dude,

When Veronica dumped me earlier this month, I was heartbroken to say the least. Our walks by the ravine! Our leftover tuna casseroles! Our magical nights of doing it! It was hard to believe such a wonderful chapter had reached conclusion.

To discover she'd left me for someone else made my pain grow that much deeper. How could any man on earth possibly provide more for Ronnie than I? I mean, I was like a rehab center to her James Frey. I was like Scientology to her John Travolta.

When she told me the man was you, however, my healing began almost immediately. Not to boost your ego, Blue Costume Dude, but a guy of your stature truly deserves any woman he wants. How could I, a simple peasant who does nothing more than write silly little web letters, compete with an alpha male like yourself? You're practically dripping in testosterone, you lucky bugger.

My grandma always said, "It takes balls of enormous magnitude to wear a retarded fuzzy blue dog costume." I fight back tears as I say this, but she was totally right. Congrats on being born with such a nutsack. Take care of Ronnie, will ya?

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

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Photo Submitted By Matthew S.

Dear Manute Bol,

Have you decided on what you plan to be for Halloween? If you haven't, here's a suggestion: dress up as a man sitting on another man's shoulders. Or, a kid sitting on another kid's shoulders sitting on another kid's shoulders. Or, if you're really feeling crazy, a midget sitting on another midget's shoulders sitting on another midget's shoulders sitting on a fourth midget's shoulders. That one might take the most effort, but it would certainly earn you some cool points (and very possibly some sweet, sweet lovin').

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

Dear Sheep,

When you can't sleep, do you count humans?

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

Dear Dick Cheney,

(Angry comment about your hunting incident.) (Mean comment about your level of intelligence.) (Snarky comment about your first name.)

(Set-up for sarcastic list of people who are dumber than you):

- (comedian with big, orange hair)
- (simian)
- (model with big boobs who married old man on death bed)
- (comedian whose name rhymes with "Molly Shore")
- (Corky)
- (guy who lived with former football star who was charged with murder)
- (simian with mental disability)
- (person who is the exact opposite of that science guy in wheelchair)
- (your boss)

(Intelligent question about gun-control laws.) (Angry question filled with expletives about when war in foreign country will be over.) (Direct statement that I'm embarrassed by your abilities and behavior.)

(Genuine sign-off),

(The Guy Who Writes Notes That Don't Need Answers)

Dear Keebler,

When I think of your brand, I think of cute elves and tasty cookies. In my opinion, those two elements are the cornerstone of your company's success. So when I visited my grocer earlier today and discovered you're now selling Bowels, I was, to be frank, astonished.

Do you truly believe ass lovers need their own dessert treat? Have trend analysts somehow convinced you that "sushi is out and edible anuses are in"? Or did you just think it would be "cutting edge" and "hilarious" to offer a tush alternative to traditional waffle cones?

Regardless of how these Bowels came to life, I believe they're a fairly major misstep for your brand. Your R&D department may throw tantrums when they hear this, but let me say with more confidence than anything I've said in my entire life: the American public does NOT want to eat ice cream out of butts.

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

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Photo Submitted By Mac-arena the Bored Zo

Dear Parents Of Kid With Monkey In Lap,

I'm no expert on parenting, but this shit is just plain wrong. Monkeys belong in jungles and zoos, not within paw's reach of a two-year old's eyeballs.

"But they look so cute together," you probably told yourself. "Granny Jane and Grampy Za-Za are just going to love this photo!"

That may be true, but Granny Jane and Grampy Za-Za aren't going to love seeing their little petunia with a head bandage. And they're probably not going to love visiting him at blind camp, either.

For your son's next birthday, I would seriously reconsider your plans to invite over that lion. If you want my advice, a simple birthday cake and perhaps a kazoo or something would do just fine.

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

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Photo Submitted By Jack W.

Dear Flava Flav,

What's your excuse when you're late for an appointment?

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Rapper

Dear Old Man In Chair,

Getting that nipple ring must have hurt like hell. How on earth were you able to endure such pain?

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

Dear Readers,

Thank you very much for reading my blog. Your comments, emails, MySpace "Top 8" placements, etc. mean a heck of a lot to me. I'm having a great time writing this thing, and it's nice to know some of you seem to be enjoying it.

As I move forward, my hope is to get everyone more involved in the process. To do so, I'm sending out this open request for photos. Dig into your personal stash and send me some ridiculous images to make fun of.

What I'd like:
- photos you (or someone you know) have taken
- any and all subject matters - pets, birthday parties, a roadtrip, etc.

What I wouldn't like:
- images you find on the Internet
- images of Pinocchio

How to send:
1. Place them on Flickr and tag with "rhetoricalletter" (one word).
2. Email them to me.

I promise to give you full credit if I use your photo, plus any leftover groupies I may have.

Thanks again for reading, and heaps of gratitude for helping out.

Your pal,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

Dear Fellow Jews,

It has come to my attention that an extremely derogatory cartoon character is being circulated amidst the anti-Semitic community. His name is Pinocchio. Seen in newspapers, comic books, movie theatres and more, this dishonest, long-nosed simpleton is a vulgar and offensive stereotype of our entire Jewish community.

We must let hatemongers know this type of blatantly racist propaganda WILL NOT be tolerated. To do so, let me strongly encourage the following:

- boycott any theatre that's ever shown the movie
- boycott any bookstore that's ever sold the book
- boycott the wood industry (Pinocchio is made of wood)
- boycott Pez products (they make a Pinocchio Pez)
- burn Pinocchio flags at any given opportunity (good for P.R.)

Our enemies are clearly using this Pinocchio character to spread their poison and revive old hatreds. Let us do whatever is necessary to tell the world how strongly we denounce and condemn this horrific character.

Please forward this to every Jew you know, whether Orthodox, Conservative or Roseanne Barr.

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

Dear Porno Movie Producers,

I hereby declare dibs on the following Oscar-related titles:

King Dong

Capote-Tang

Hustle & Ohhhhh...

Charlie And The Fudge Tunnel Factory

Poon-ich

Memoirs Of An Extremely Slutty Geisha

Good Night, And Good Suck

Harry Potter And The Goblet Of Lube

Suckerella Man

The Cuntstant Gardener

Tim Hurtin's Whore's Ride

The Lyin', The Bitch And The Whore, Yo

Pride And Press Your Dick

Despite repeated efforts, however, I couldn't think of a single title that played off "Brokeback Mountain". If you guys can figure that one out, it's all yours.

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Titty Biter

PS Though not nominated, I also call dibs on The Dink Panther.

Dear Bicycle Maniac,

It was really nice seeing you in the hospital earlier today. There were a few things I wanted to get off my chest, but the fact that you're in a coma made it pretty much impossible to say anything.

I probably shouldn't say this to a pal in a body cast, but what in the devil's name were you thinking? Perhaps you haven't read a "Things You Should Never Try In Life" list recently, but "Building A Thin, Super Shitty Ramp And Trying To Ride Your Bike Across It" comes in second place, only behind "Tattooing A Vomit-Covered Urinal On Your Cheek While Eating Rat Poison."

Knowing you, you probably attempted that trick in order to woo a cute bike shop girl into bed with you. Unfortunately, however, cute bike shop girls don't dig bedridden vegetables. They dig well-adjusted men whose definition of "crazy" is "kegstand in a football field parking lot".

Bicycle Maniac, I wish you the speediest of recoveries. And remember, while you're not in the greatest of situations, you could be somewhere much worse. I mean, you could've tattooed a vomit-covered urinal on your cheek and eaten rat poison.

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

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Photo Submitted by D'Arcy F.

Dear Low Fat Buttermilk On Park Bench,

Congratulations! You've been named 'Most Mysterious Piece Of Litter 2006'. Beating out such tough competition as 'Eye Patch On Apartment Rooftop', 'Used Condom At Go-Kart Track' and 'Fake Mustache In Synagogue Kitchen', your totally unnatural location left our judging panel truly, utterly stumped.

Some of their theories regarding your nonsensical placement:

"Someone had a pancake party while walking their dog."

"A bum was so drunk he thought the milk was Windex."

"It fell out of a plane like that Coke bottle in The Gods Must Be Crazy."

"The milk is sour and smells horrendous. Some chick who loves the bench placed it there so people wouldn't steal her seat."

"One word: Photoshop."

At the end of the day, however, none of these theories really made any sense. And so, with the utmost respect, we laid down our detective caps and bestowed this truly magnificent honor upon you. Well done, Low Fat Buttermilk On Park Bench. You've created a mystery of unmatched fortitude.

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

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Photo Submitted By Black Sharpie

Dear Foreign Restaurant,

Overheard in your restaurant:

"An ASS steack? Ha ha ha! The owner has no friggin' clue! What a RETARD. I'm gonna order me an ass steack just so when I'm back with my boys in Topeka, I can tell them fuckers I ate ASS for dinner. They're gonna high-five my friggin' face off!"

Overheard in your kitchen:

"These American customers really think we do not know what 'ass' means? They are buffoons. We only call it 'ass steack' so they can brag to their peabrain pals of the 'ass' which they have tasted. In reality it is horse meat we buy for pennies on the black market. Our profit margin on this product has made it possible for me to send all my nieces and nephews to Yale. Praised be ass steack!"

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

Dear Volcanic Diarrhea,

It's totally fucked up that Diet Pepsi stole your "brown and bubbly" tagline. In your honor, I'm a Coke guy from here on out.

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

Dear Lizard Lady,

Being human isn't always easy. We've all dealt with periods of loneliness. We've all sometimes wished it was easier to connect with those around us.

That said, your cry for attention is downright pathetic. Do you really think placing a giant reptile on your back will help you make friends? Do you genuinely believe it makes you cooler? No offense Lizard Lady, but that shit is just plain weirdo. The only people you'll meet with a creature like that are zealous zoologists ("Dare I say, is that a gila monster?") and 'tarded tourists from Tennessee. ("Look honey! She's got a dragon on her back!")

If you really want others to like you, quit trying so hard. Let yourself be known for a kind heart, or charming smile, or "go get 'em" attitude. I mean, that's a hell of a lot better than being known as "freaky chick who hangs with a lizard", isn't it?

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

UPDATE: HOLY FUCKING SHIT! CHECK THIS OUT!!!
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Photo Submitted By Sally K.

Dear Mall Manager,

Bless your freakin' heart. While at the mall last week, a brilliant management decision on your part saved my ass like you wouldn't believe. For this I am insanely fucking grateful.

You see, I came to buy flowers for my great-aunt Brenda's birthday. Visiting hours at her senior home end at 7 PM, but since bowling league ran late, I didn't arrive at your facility until just before 6:30.

Not knowing exactly where the flower shop was, I ran around breathlessly, crossing my fingers I'd somehow find it. But time was getting tight. If I didn't find this flower shop, great-aunt Brenda was gonna lay a dump on my head!

Racing frantically, I came upon an intersection. But damned if I could remember which way to turn. Left or right? Left or right? Crapper Jacks! Great-aunt dump, here I come!

That is, if it weren't for your extraordinarily helpful "This Section Closed" sign. That motherfucker saved my sweet ass. By alerting me that a certain part of your mall was closed, I had no option but to turn the other way...straight to the flower shop.

Not only did I get to the senior home on time (I arrived at 6:58), but great-aunt Brenda TOTALLY loved the petunias. Thanks to your well-placed sign, it turned out to be the best birthday celebration of her life.

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

PS Unfortunately, two days later, great-aunt Brenda died.

Dear Circus Bear Trainers,

Something very, very suspicious is going on. I've spent my whole life being told that come wintertime, bears go into hibernation. Which, to my understanding, means a "long, uninterrupted slumber". Yet somehow, you and your traveling circuses seem to magically provide "bear entertainment" the whole year around. WHAT...THE...FUCK?

Are you brutes injecting these poor creatures with Red Bull and speed? Are you inhumanely blowing bugles in their ears whenever they threaten to sleep? Or, and I'm well aware this accusation could lead to a controversy of Lewinskyesque proportions...ARE YOUR BEARS FAKE?!!!

The world's waiting for an answer, you rat bastards. You best spill the beans before The Smoking Gun or some shit picks up on my scoop and blows this story worldwide. We've seen authors of late destroy their careers through deceit and falsehood; don't let your profession be next.

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer