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Sunday, December 29, 2024
Dear Dalai Lama,
By the time you read this, I'll be zombiefied by a doomsday virus. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but your needs are inherently less important than mine. I know this might seem like I'm into polygamy or something just because I have five wives at the same time, but I'm sorry about this — at least so long as I remain high. I just need more length from you than I'm getting, and let's face it — you're shrinking with age. I want to tell you that I think you are the true identity of the Zodiac Killer, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are scared of sheep, and I am worried about it. You like to sabotage ice hockey matches by repeatedly throwing out extra pucks onto the rink, filling stuffed animals with ice cream, and practicing surgery on household pests, and I'm just not sure I can ever share your joy in those things. How can two people so different ever make it for the long haul? I think we should date everyone else in the world, just to find out the answer — or at least I should, you have no hope on that score. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I walk past the ape cages at the zoo. I'd really like us to become partners in crime and steal candy from helpless little kids, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, at least while we were in separate cells at the police station. Take care of yourself and never forget your true place in life (which is at my feet, groveling in abject obedience).
~ The collective members of your band. |