Email From a Concerned Reader

I received this email earlier today from one of our dedicated readers. It reads as follows:

Dear Ray,

I have read your blog since it first debuted in the spring of 1974. My friends and I would spend countless hours protesting the Vietnam War, then we'd come home, gather around our stolen NASA computer box and read all of your incredibly hilarious posts. It always amazed me that you found the time to post every week, despite your busy lifestyle. I mean, I'm sure that being married to Diane Keaton, writing dialog for "Potsie" on Happy Days, and blowing the lid on the Watergate scandal was very, very time-consuming. And yet, you still managed to post new material on your site -- every week. Material that made me alternate between manic laughter and uncontrollable sobbing fits nearly 52+ times a year. And I always respected you for that.

But lately, Ray, I've been depressed ... and its ALL YOUR FAULT. Why? Because you let me down. You let me down and so I'm just gonna come right out and ask you this because I need to know: Why have you NOT posted any new content in over two weeks on "True Stories," Ray? Why??? Why are you toying with my emotions, Ray? Why, why, why, why, why, why, WHY??? Do you want me to suffer? Do YOU want to suffer? Why are you doing this to me? Can't you see I need you??? I want you inside me.

I told all of my new friends at work about your blog -- numerous times. I plastered MySpace with bulletin after bulletin after bulletin about how awesome I thought your blog was. I even tattooed a tribal lettering of "True Stories" all the way around my lower leg, which (in some religions) means that when I'm reincarnated, I won't have that leg in my next life.

But apparently that's not good enough. No, no, no, it's never good enough for you, IS IT, Mister Man?? Apparently you enjoy making me look like an asshole. Well I hope you're happy, Mister Man. Happy, happy, happy! Everyone at work hates me now. My only friend left on MySpace is Tom. And worst of all, the guy who did my tattoo was (I think) really, really stoned and he spelled "Stories" with a "Y" (True Storys). And after I die, I'm gonna lose this fucking leg!!!

So thanks a lot for ruining my life. It all must come down now. Burn in hell. Burn in hell, burn in hell. You don't even love me. Careful on your *drive* to work tomorrow ... I still love you. Eat the flies, burn the rubbish. Chase the dogs away, mind the gutters. Green is gold, forget no plates. Make seeds and dry houses.

- Linda C, Harrington, NV


Wow. Now if that isn't passion, I don't know what is. "True Story", err, "Stories" readers are the best, hands-down!! Thanks for reading, Linda! I'll keep posting, you keep lovin life! PS -- I'd LOVE to see that tat; send us some pics!