Dear "Take-A-Penny, Leave-A-Penny" Tray,

So are you saying I'm supposed to take one, and then put it back?

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

Dear Millipedes,

How much does it suck when you pass out at a kegger and someone ties your shoelaces together?

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

Dear Expectant Parents,

If you don't want your kid to ever need glasses, you should name him/her Ehndfnptxzuzdtfdfnpthphuntdznpxtzfh.

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

Dear Helpful Convenience Store,

From the bottom of my heart, thank you, thank you, thank you. I'm writing to bestow my tremendous gratitude for all the explanatory signs you've placed throughout your store. Without such helpful signage, there's no question I would've been completely screwed.

You see, the other day I came to your store to grab a six-pack. As I walked inside, I almost smashed my face directly into your front door. Why? Because I didn't realize I had to open it first. At the last moment, however, I saw your small, handwritten sign: "YOU MUST OPEN DOOR TO ENTER!" If not for those blessed words, I would've surely ended up with a bloody, broken nose.

Once safely inside, I headed to your beer fridge. En route, I passed the snack section and saw several bags of Fiery Habanero Doritos. The bags were covered with images of flames. Now I'm sure you'll consider me a fool to admit this, but I somehow thought the flames were real!

I gulped in fear, and was a beat away from screaming, "Giant fire in the snack section! Everybody get the hell out!" Just before doing so, however, I saw a piece of tape with another one of your handwritten messages: "FLAMES ON DORITOS BAGS ARE FAKE!" Phew. Once again, your considerate explanation saved me from complete and utter humiliation.

Finally, I reached the beer fridge and pulled out a six-pack. I checked the price tag and saw the cost: $8.99. $8.99?! Why on earth would I bother paying $8.99 when I could just as easily put the beers in my backpack, sneak out and pay nothing?

It was a no-brainer. I opened my bag and began filling it with bottles. Free beer! Man, what a great store. Until of course, at the last moment, I glanced at your fridge and saw the sign: "PLEASE DO NOT STEAL!"

Gosh dang it. Your polite request left me no option but to pull the beers out of my satchel and pay for them properly at the counter. Of course I was bummed to do so, but I'm sure it would've been more of a bummer to end up in a jail cell with a horny rapist or some shit like that.

So, Helpful Convenience Store, even though I had to pay for my cottonpickin' brewskies (Rip-Off City!), I truly appreciate all your considerate signs. After all, if not for such helpful tips, I'd probably be in jail with a broken nose, hated by all the fireman in my town, awkwardly smooching a horny rapist or some shit like that.

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

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Photo Submitted By: Tim V.

Dear Dick Butkus,

Bless your soul. On behalf of all people born with crappy names, I'd like to thank you for being living proof that "crap name" doesn't have to equal "crap life".

From day one, you never had it easy. I mean, your mom and dad bestowed you with pretty much the worst name possible. What were they thinking by calling you "Dick Butkus"? I guess they were just resentful of their own names, Ivana* and Givemy.

Oh, the fun your schoolmates must have had. "Hey Dick, wanna Kiss my Butt?" Or, "Yo Butt Kiss, you're a Dick!" And of course, the classic, "Dick Butkus wants his ass and penis to smooch! Dick Butkus wants his ass and penis to smooch!"

I'm sure all this teasing made you cry a lot. You probably even peed your pants once or twice. It's cool, though. I mean, what ten-year-old could deal with a name like "Dick Butkus" and not stain his or her chinos?

Dealing with such trauma at an early age would permanently cripple most. It would have been easy to give up and accept your lot in life as a pathetic loser. But what did you do in the face of affliction? You worked your tail off and became a hard-ass professional football player. You found a career that let you physically demolish any fools who dared mock your cock/tushy name.

Thanks to you, Dick Butkus, others with crappy names are now realizing their potential. Snotty Flabbybreasts of Omaha, Nebraska just had a date with his high school prom queen. Runny-Poo Johnson of Salinas, California was recently awarded a Rhodes Scholarship. And Tiny Wang of Evanston, Illinois raised $3 million for charity last fall by unicycling across Kansas.

If not for your trailblazing, people like Snotty, Runny-Poo and Tiny would never have had the courage to follow their dreams. Thanks a million for scoring a touchdown against teaserdom. You da' man, Pecker Ass-Smooch!

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

*Ivana's maiden name was Boobgrabbe.

Dear Friends of Yo-Yo Ma,

When you're hanging with Yo-Yo and his mom pulls off an impressive yo-yo trick, are you like, "Yo, Yo-Yo Ma, word to yo' mama's yo-yo, yo"?

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

Dear Readers,

It's time again to put out a request for readers' photos. If you have any images I might be able to write about in the future (preferably ones you've taken), please email them to me. If I use your photo, I'll give you full credit and a link. Plus, if I become a Bloggie Finalist, I'll write your name on my butt before I streak at the ceremony.

Thanks as always for your continued readership. I'm genuinely touched by it.

Hugs and french kisses to all of you,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

Dear Joe DiMaggio,

When you used to hear, "Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?" on the radio, did you ever call up Simon and Garfunkel and be, like, "Yo fellows, I'm right here"?

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

Dear Whoever Said, "Close Only Counts In Horseshoes and Hand Grenades",

What about bidding on The Price Is Right?

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer

Dear Rappers,

The moment you've long been dreading has finally arrived: 2007 is here. Following a lengthy stretch of years that offered near unlimited rhyme options (2001 - 2006), you're now stuck with a year that rhymes with next to nothing. Witness:

2001
- I ain't got a permit but I got a gun/It's gonna be a Bullet Odyssey in 2001
- My years in the ghetto, at last they're done/I'm buyin' Bill Gates' mansion in 2001
- I'm gonna bang a million chicks and it's gonna be fun/I'll make a million Mini-Me's in 2001

2002
- I might be more J Crew than 2 Live Crew/But I still want some pussy in 2002
- Whether you're a Buddhist, Muslim or Jew/Let's fuck the police in 2002
- You're like fresh soil in the morning dew/Gonna plant you with my seed in 2002

2003
- My wallet's way fatter than the eyes of Bruce Lee/I'm makin' tae-kwon-dough in 2003
- They say MC Squared is equal to E/Well no one equals me in 2003
- "I wanna ride your jock all night" said she/I said "Ride it all year, all of 2003"

2004
- Want a world filled with violence and gore?/If not, vote Gore in 2004
- Though I rhyme from 9 to 5, it's never work or chore/Just call me MC Unemployed for 2004
- I got a crunk hot lady, never need a whore/My booty comes for free in 2004

2005
- I guess I'm more scary than a giant beehive/'Cause I make the ladies scream in 2005
- If you buy weed make sure it's not chive/Or you'll never get high in 2005
- We got in my Hummer, went for a drive/She gave me a hummer, best of 2005

2006
- I ain't gonna hurt you with stones or sticks/I'm usin' glocks and pistols in 2006
- While some use needles to get their fix/I'm gettin' high off YouTube in 2006
- My cock's so wide it's like I got three dicks/I'm gonna squeeze it in my ho in 2006

Unlike these verbal goldmines, however, 2007 is gonna be hella difficult. The sad reality is that there just isn't much that rhymes with seven. The only lyrics I could think of:

- Remember that show, Highway to Heaven?/It's not on the air in 2007
- I have no friends named Devin or Kevin/Though perhaps I'll meet them in 2007
- You like fake words? Here's one: "Schneven"/Fake words are hip in 2007

All I can say is, try your best. Maybe rhyme about stuff other than the year we're in. Take a long vacation if necessary. And remember, 2008 (which will be great, no debate) is just 363 days away.

Sincerely,

The Rhetorical Letter Writer