Dear Squid
Upon logging into my Friendster account yesterday, I discovered a message waiting for me. The text of the message, in full, is as follows:
hello there sir
hi there, just saw ur blog the other day and i admit you really have the gift when it comes to writing. all of your entries where really great. actually many of your friends also think that you’re great when it comes to words. so i was hoping if you could help me write the ultimate hate mail to one of my co-residents (im a resident doctor .. OB).. she is really getting to my nerves. ACtualy lahat kami dito sa hopsital hate her.. pls.. i can give her characeteristics if you like.. pls pls
The sender is apparently some chick named Joyce who, as we’ve seen in her message, claims to be a doctor in some hospital. I’m sure she won’t mind me posting a link to her hastily-made account since she seems to have created it specifically to mail me this shining example of the art of correspondence. I’m also quite sure Joyce wouldn’t mind me answering her message in this blog. Thus…
Dear Joyce:
First of all, a doctor just out of medical school would be nearer in age to thirty than thirteen. Judging by the imbecility of the way you write and what you’re asking of me, I suspect that you’re more of a moronic teenager than a medical professional. When you get to your late twenties, you stupid little fuck, you’ll hopefully discover that most grownups have much more significant things to worry about– like putting food on the table, for instance– than writing your so-called “ultimate hate mail” for a nasty co-worker. Look, I know that your sophomoric desire to tell off the class cocksucker your boyfriend’s been fucking behind your back must seem to you like a thing of world-shattering importance. Believe me, though, you have bigger problems to mull over than that. To begin with, your boyfriend’s been fucking someone else because you’re so damned fugly the wrinkled skin of my balls seems like a thing of great beauty compared to your mug. Even better, Baby Jesus was just on the phone and he told me that he’s going to give you cervical cancer because he thinks you’re a lousy cunt and that it’s going to make your cunnyhole stink like a festering corpse as it eats your accursed womb. So fuck you and don’t ever come around these parts again or I’ll rip your fucking intestines out through your fucking asshole and wear them around my fucking neck like a fucking necklace for a few weeks and then feed them to my fucking dog and then dance the fucking Macarena on it when it comes out as fucking dog-shit.
Hugs and Kisses,
Squid
Of course, that was just a first draft of my reply to Joyce. Being a firm believer in writing as rewriting, I polished my letter a few times and mailed her the following message:
Re: hello there sir
Hi, Joyce. Although I’d love to help you out I can’t grant your request. I don’t think that would be ethical. I know that sounds weird coming from a self-confessed internet asshole but there are lines I won’t cross. I don’t think I can bring myself to insult someone who hasn’t done anything to deserve my hate. Let me explain. Away from the internet I’m just a normal person, if you can believe that. I wake up in the morning and go through my day trying not to make enemies of the people around me. I snark people on the net with my posts because I want to challenge their beliefs and opinions. If they can’t defend their cherished truths then I think it’s time for them to think hard about the things they believe in. I’m trying to be the devil’s advocate, not the devil himself. Again, sorry I can’t grant your request. If she’s really that bad you can perhaps make a letter of complaint, ask everyone to sign it, and then give it to your superiors. I’m sure she’ll get the point that everyone hates her.
Randy
