Dear Brian,

I have diligently been reading your page over the past school year and I must say that you are the most offensive, untalented, and hackneyed writer I have had the misfortune of knowing. Your stories are deplorable, your grammar is disappointing, and your jokes, and I am humoring you when I call them that, are as funny as watching someone get anally pounded with a dildo for heroin. What are you trying to write? Are you trying to get a job as a staff writer for Zoey 101?

Brian, seeing how you waste your time in college, you have single handedly change my stance from pro-life to pro-choice. You wrote an article about how all black people are the same. Just because Will Smith and Barack Obama are both black doesn’t mean that they are the same guy. You can’t vote for Will Smith, he’s not on the ballot. Did you even see Independence Day? Bill Pullman was the president in that movie. Will Smith has no political experience whatsoever.

I mention this because I am concerned that you are becoming a racist. Your grandfather once referred to a black man as a “negro.” Granted the man was playing baseball in some league, but still that’s offensive. Your grandfather, in my opinion, was a racist, which means you are a quarter racist. I’ve known this for quite some time. Remember how on your fifth birthday we went to Chuck E. Cheese’s. We didn’t get service for hours. They served all the non-racist tables before they gave you that plate of onion rings. They could tell you were a quarter racist just by looking at you.

Nonetheless, we still love you. Well, not as much as we love your little brother. I mean he does have the common sense not to openly mock the president of his institute and he knows that Stalin would never open a House of Pancakes (he’s a communist, not a capitalist). Plus, he has only called the Pacific Ocean the specific ocean once this week and only twice this week has called spaghetti “fucking shitty ass hair.” I’ll let you try to be second best of my children. Out of all the people in my life you rank somewhere in between the tax lawyer that audited me last year and the man who cut me in line at the E.R. because he had a sore throat and I had my fibula hanging out of my arm.

Please Don’t Come Home Anytime Soon,

Mom

P.S. Who’s the goofy kid who makes a lot of jokes about being Jewish? Tell him to learn some English and buy him a Bible.