Can you fly, Bobbie?
Ok. New page turned. I am going to start posting incoming mail. Fuck it. It is just too good, and you – our adoring readership and users of Coastertoast, deserve it.
Check this business:
Hay Baby
I think we should go out to night and maby i can go in (If You Know What I meen)
Love Bob
I hate you, Bob. I hate you. Can you feel it? Does it burn like the STD you’ll never have because you’ll never, ever, get laid?
This is what is happening to our people, isn’t it? The whole human population is turning into these weird freakish things with no ability to communicate beyond the most base and inane blathering – and it doesn’t even have the self respect to at least TRY to follow some sort of standard.
The capitalization in this drivel amazes me. The spelling is something a first grader, or a small dog on crystal meth, could make a more valiant attempt at and the subject matter…
My personal favorite, however, is the final declarative statement: Love Bob
No, Bob, I won’t love you. I’ll hate you. I’ll hate you like Khan hates Kirk. I’ll hate you like Jayne hates Jaynestown. I’ll hate you like Ripley hates Ash. I’ll hate you like Robocop hates Robocop 3.
My hate for you will forever be epic.
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