Dear Eater,
Idk… why don’t you go there and fucking find out yourself instead of emailing me, yknow? Pound some fuckin pavement, you goddamn jamokes. Let me guess: your Eater reporter is going up to some random construction worker on Avenue A and being like "hey, you seen acclaimed Korean restaurant Oiji around?" And the worker is like "Who's askin" and Eater reporter is like "the readers of eater" and the construction worker is like "da eaters of reader??" And at this point the reporter is so upset that they've had to spend so long talking to someone with working class bona fides that they start to cry... and the construction worker is like "it's okay man, here's a hanky" and the hanky has "Oiji" embroidered in the corner and the reporter is like "where did you get this" and the worker is like "I don't know nothing I swear it weren't me" and the reporter is threatening him at this point and the worker is cowering under the man's fist and the reporter is like "okay I believe you" and sends this email asking ME instead?? Are you fucking joking???? Do your job!!!
Dear Petal Quilt,
*looks down at the floor and blushes demurely* Hi. It's really nice to meet you. *kicks the ground shyly* So... you're a petal quilt. That's cool. Does that mean you're made of petals? That would be awesome. Not like me. I'm *breaks out in big heaving sobs* just made of stupid flesh and blood. And organs and cells. And each of the cells is made up of a membrane, a nucleus, and a bunch of organelles, including the endoplasmic reticulum. Want to see what it can do? *synthesizes a protein* Idk. It's cool sometimes I guess.
So what do you like to do for hobbies? Other than quilt? *laughs at own joke* I guess I like to make le most epic furry drawings on deviantart. *hides drawing behind back* Want to see? Ok, here it is.
Ok, so it’s not a normal furry drawing. it’s more of a minion meme, but minions are furry right? Do you think they’re furry? *gets agitated* It’s very important that you think they’re furry like me. Otherwise this can never work.
Toodles,
Ritam
Dear Chess.com
Hello. You left your fucking swords just sitting around my inbox. Seriously--I thought we talked about this. You can't just leave swords in my inbox like this. It's dangerous.
Here.
â– â– â– â– â– â– â– â– â–
■🥜🥜🥜🥜â–
■🥜🥜🗡🥜â–
■🥜🥜🥜🥜â–
â– â– â– â– â– â– â– â– â–
I packed a sword into a box for you to take home. Oh, and you left these too:
â– â–
■🦞💩📺🥾 â–
â– â– â– â– â– â– â– â– â– â– â–
Just stop leaving shit here. It grows mold.
Ritam
How many subscribers do you guys have? How's the whole "Friday at noon" Substack thing workin' out for you guys? Haha, so funny, I seem to always get your newsletter a few minutes before mine. That's really funny.
Dear Mr. Chollampat,
Wow. Another banger from the king. Absolute 🔥 my good sir!! You're so good at writing. Anyway, hope things are going well up in Syracuse.
Here in Brooklyn the seasons continue as they do--the leaves have begun to change, perhaps spurred by the honey crisp nights that release us neighborhood folk from the shackles of humidity. Mae Anne has said her first words, and ol' Jim is cantankerous as always. The pigs have given birth to a litter of of six this time. Pa says I can keep the runt for my own if I finish re-shingling the roof by October. Mrs. Angler down at the old schoolhouse just put up one of those signs with letters that you can move around. It says "Dream big." I joke with Pa that the only person who ever got to dream big 'round these parts was you. He agrees--knew you always had somethin' special in you. Maybe one day, when you're tired of the bright lights and energy of the big city, you can return to our sleepy little hamlet on the Hudson. Things ain't so bad here!
Ritam
So true. I also get emails.