Tag Archives: Open Letter

An Open Letter To Open Letter Responders

Dear Open Letter Responders,

The past twenty-four hours have been a trying time. Since I awoke yesterday I witnessed a wave of offense spread across social media, someone’s open letter had gone too far. The problem is, all responses to the offending letter were aptly directed to “People who write open letters.” This is the passive aggressive equivalent to walking into a post office and talking smack about your particular mail person without ever saying their name… maybe they’ll learn not to just toss your packages over a fence and into a steadily growing puddle, but odds are they have the day off.

I did my due diligence to find out who had sent the initial letter. Googling “open letter” I found at least 4 different letters written in the past week, though none within the timeframe of outrage. The local paper neglected to cover this letter as well. To a certain degree I could assume Apple had written another letter to the FBI but most folks seem to side with Apple so that’s unlikely.

Look, I’m 25, I’ve got a full time job and a cat who’s starved for attention, I can’t keep up with open letter outrage of the day. Hell, I have to relearn what people mean by TFW every two weeks and then I end up making that face when you worry about short term memory loss. So please, when responding to open letters, just say you’re pissed at Focus on the Family or whoever the hell is causing trouble, it could save a full minute of my life.

Kevin Cole

An Open Letter to Demi Lovato

Dear Ms. Lovato,

When this summer began we entered into a lucrative fuck-contract, under which we had negotiated the following conditions:

Condition A: Don’t tell our mothers
Condition B: Kiss one another
Condition C: Die for each other

I’m sure you are very familiar with this agreement. For the better part of three months we have been kissing one another regularly, not telling our mothers when, where, and how much we kissed one another, and you even took a large bite out of my cherry that one time, I certainly didn’t die from it but I was ready to.

Our incredible fuck-contract expires as of Wednesday, September 23rd, the first day of autumn, but I’m not ready for it to end. Just this past week as you took me down into your paradise, I realized that this had become so much more than just something we wanted to try. When you leave the apartment at the very prompt and consistent hour of 11pm to get your beauty rest, I find myself unable to fall asleep. I lay in bed for hours not just with your body on my mind, but your mind on my mind. When all this started you asked if I could keep a secret and I promise I have (believe me, my mother knows nothing about the complicated sex swing I had installed in the pantry). However, as this contract inches to a close, I find myself wanting to tell my mother, not about the unadulterated kink-fest we spent the summer mutually engaged in, but about you and the way you make me feel when we’re rolling around naked in a kiddie pool full of macaroni and cheese.

Demi, I write this letter for you, God, and the whole world (mother’s included) to see because I’m not ready for this summer to end and I no longer care who I tell. Even though the top 40 DJs will be playing our song well into November, I want to play with you for the rest of my life. I know you’re hesitant, but don’t be scared just because we have similar body-types. Let’s head down to Dallas and tell your mother all about us.

Yours for (more than) the summer,
Kevin Cole

Nico’s Drink of the Month

Scan

Dear Staff, Writers and Audience of The Annual,

I sadly regret to inform all of you I no longer drink: a few months ago I dislocated my knee, due to a case of wrestlingidous!

Wrestelingidous occurs when you mix alcohol, good weather and a vast amount of backyard to wrestle with your friends. It all started in the garage of my friend’s house. All of my friends and I gathered to take a shot of rumplemint vodka in celebration of my friend’s 23rd birthday. Some of my friends weren’t able to handle the shots in front of them, but I held on. I was able to hold on past my seventh shot, but that’s when it hit me…Wrestelingidous! I walked up to a couple of my friends and slightly pushed their shoulders, initiating a wrestling match. One of them proceeded to push me back harder, and that’s when the chaos began! My friend immediately pinned me down.

I got back up and said, “Nooooh..w-wr-estle meh again, I-I- wasn’t even tryinggg!” *belch!*

He said, “Nah.”

And that’s when it hit me again…Wrestlingidous!

I went to grab my friend’s right arm; he tried to block it, but I got him by faking it and grappling around him. He tried to get out of it, but there was just too much Nicolas all around him. That’s when I made my move to bring him down; but suddenly I heard a *Snap!* And that’s when I fell down to the ground and felt a shock of pain run down my leg. “F*ck! My leg’s broken!” I said.

My friends huddled around me in shock. One friend crouched down, touched it and said, “Yep, that’s broken.”

A few minutes later the ambulance came. The paramedics gave me five shots of morphine. I still felt pain, so they rushed me to the ER. Immediately, they took an X-ray and gave me two more shots of morphine. My doctor came back with the results of the X-ray and said my leg was just dislocated. She then grabbed hold of my leg, said, “Brace yourself,” and popped it back into place.

So now I sit here with both legs intact and $3000 in medical bills.

I smoke pot now.

                                 Sincerely,

                                         Nicolas Contreras

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