From New York, original humor & commentary by Brian Sack.
Subject to all the flexible quality standards of internet self-publishing.
Letters
When it comes to the finite number of quiet evenings we have together, I hope you'll join me in making them as Hitler-free as possible.
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"Because of what you did to Ms. Hilton, other folks were hurt or placed in harm's way. Ashlee Simpson might get a call reminding her that she's a fraud perpetrating a joke on the song-downloading public. Ditto Lindsay Lohan. And Lauren Popeil, heiress to Ronco, might be hounded by people upset that her dad's Food Dehydrator is a piece of crap."
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Two months' worth of correspondence tormenting a West African con man.
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Our time together was brief, but somehow it seemed like an eternity. Perhaps because the image will be with us long after the earth is swallowed by a supernova.
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When The King Of Kings Isn't The King Of Comedy.
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I'd appreciate a chance to explain the photos.
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How not to advertise your new Chelsea hair salon.
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In which we, humbly, ask Jennifer to stop marrying all the time.
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For the Trekkie who hasn't been rejected enough.
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"In retrospect, I should not have assumed in any way that your ability to win a song and dance competition, rodeo, obstacle course and home redecoration challenge would in any way be proof that you had talents, or indeed training, as a medical examiner."
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Why the "American Idol" vote was not "incredibly racist" and why Sir John should be quiet more often.
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An appointment reminder that's scarier than going to the dentist.
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A patron is shocked by organized resistance.
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An exciting ground floor opportunity.
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Answering the question.
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Got your Christmas Card. Ethan looks adorable. I was going to make some joke about him looking more like...
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I am not certain of the circumstances that will lead to you, the cyclist, being beaten by me, the pedestrian,...
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For starters- Paris Hilton is totally dead! But enough about Paris Hilton.
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For those who've had enough celebrity fluff.
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I'm tired of all ye Medieval freakes trying to tell me how great the Medieval times are. Well, I'm there...
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