Bet Your Bottom Loonie

Dear Friends,

I used to wonder if my life would have been easier if I had committed to writing one dirty limerick a month rather than one song a month. Probably not. Undoubtedly, life would have been more glamorous, but not easier. There are only so many stories one can tell about a man from Nantucket, and the pressure to come up with new variations that don't sound derivative would be overwhelming. I'll stick with songs for now.  The new one for this month is called, "Why Won't You Cry?"

Here's a brain teaser. Fill in the blank:

"The Sisterhood of the Traveling ____"

The correct answer is that there isn't a correct answer. It's a trick question. The sentence makes no sense, because the blank is in the wrong spot. It should be The Sister ____hood of the Traveling, and the answer is, "City Increases the Likeli."

Sorry. If it was easy, it wouldn't be a brain teaser.

Visiting a Sister City is like borrowing your best friend's shorts. (Yes, I said shorts, not pants. Why do you keep bringing up pants?) Ann Arbor has a half dozen, and each sister is more twisted than the last. I, for one, intend to sightsee the living hell out of all of them.

In recent years, I provided exhaustive stereotype-free travel guides for Hikone, Dakar, and Tübingen. Today, we stand parallel to the world map and crane our necks backwards to examine our Sister in the far North: Peterborough, Ontario.

Nestled on the Ontonabee River, Peterborough is a strikingly small city, appropriately named for handsome screen actor Peter Dinklage.

English is the first language of most residents, but their proximity to Quebec gives them ample opportunities to speak with hilarious French accents, much like the city's namesake, handsome screen actor Peter Sellers.

Known as the "Electric City," Peterborough was the first municipality in Ontario to install wall outlets in every residential home and commercial igloo. The coal-burning electric plants have led to an alarming rash of lung cancer, with a prevalence comparable to that of the city's namesake, handsome television news anchor Peter Jennings.

After AC and DC electricity, tourism is Peterborough's third largest industry. The array of museums, theaters, and cultural exhibitions never seems to grow old, much like the city's namesake, handsome musical cross-dresser Peter Pan.


Peterborough, Ontario - Quick Facts and Guesstimates
Population (February 2016): 80,000
Population (February 2017): Unknown millions, when 49% of the population of the United States fulfills their promise to move to Canada after someone they hate is elected president.
Most common occupations, age under 60: Lumberjack, fur trader, being a flying squirrel
Most common occupation, age over 60: Not being drafted in the Vietnam War
Namesake of City: Handsome singer-songwriter Peter Frampton
Most popular TV show: The Biggest Hoser
What to do if attacked by a grizzly bear: Act like a fish. Then it will hit your head against a rock to stun you before mauling you.
Most popular hate group: The Neo-NotZeds
Legendary hero: Some medieval knight who body-checked a dragon into the walls of a castle.
Other Popular Folk Tales: There are plenty of good ones. When it comes to Canadian mythos, this Digest is not my first beaver rodeo.
Motto: Always carry a camera, in case you need to prove you saw a Sasquatch secretly paying his respects at the grave of a deceased Mountie.
Namesake of City: "Pedro" from Napoleon Dynamite, who is muy guapo
Traditional prom corsage: A bouquet of Molson bottles taped to moose antlers
Driving time to Ann Arbor: 5h 23m by car, 20h 13m by dogsled, 132h 31m by Zamboni (because you have to go back and forth three times to cover the entire road.)
Favorite Judy Blume book: "Tales of a Grade Four Nothing."

With warmest regards,
Zach

2015: A Beard in Review

Dear Friends,

The inaugural Hard Taco Song for 2016 is called, "A Sexy Chord Progression." That's the only link on this page that will fully satisfy your curiosity. The rest of them will leave you wanting.

Exactly one year ago today, I asked myself, "Can you patent a beard?" The answer can be found on a nearby web page. You sure can.

Here's how it works. Anyone can register a unique beard with the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office. The Census Bureau tracks epidemiological trends in beard demographics, and distributes royalties to patent holders. These monies come from an excise tax on beard oils and waxes.

Many beard styles are now in the public domain, but a few facial hair pioneers have retained their claims. The descendants of Martin Van Buren and Ambrose Burnside each earn over $50,000 a year, thanks to the cult followings enjoyed by Side-whiskers and Friendly Muttonchops, respectively. Distributions from the Horseshoe Mustache have afforded Hulk Hogan the opportunity to retire from wrestling at the young age of 61.

Facial hair franchising is far from a sure investment. The returns depend on the popularity of the beard or mustache in question. That's why the Hitler family barely breaks even most years.

My New Year's resolution for 2015 was to develop and patent at least one popular new beard. I rented a Selfie-Stick for the year to document my campaign.


January 2015

5... 4... 3... 2... 1... Happy New Year!
I will stop shaving at precisely this moment. Let's break a champagne bottle across my jaw to celebrate my face's maiden voyage towards beardedness!



March 2015

Feeling optimistic. The facial hair may not be coming in as quickly or as symmetrically as I had hoped, but I'm in this for the long haul. I bought tubes of "beard balm" and "ruff wax" so I can tame the frizzy flyaways that are likely to develop in the coming weeks.

Possible names for this beard:

• Five-o-clock muff
• Imperial tomato fuzz
• The left cheek mustache

May 2015

I think my co-workers are starting to notice, but they haven't said anything yet. That's okay... you never want to ask a man if he's growing a beard until you are 100% sure. That is like asking a woman if she is pregnant or asking a different woman if she is choking.

Possible names for this beard:

• Mouth gauntlet
• The petite walrus
• The stubble helix

July 2015

Still haven't heard back from the Patent Office, but I'm moving forward with confidence! Lauren and I disagree about whether we should write "Patent Pending" on the photo that we submit with the application. I say yes! Neither of us is a patent attorney, per se, but I feel that I have a firmer grasp of what "pending" means. 

Possible names for this beard:

• Motown chops
• The jockstrap thatch
• Douchebag Royale

September 2015

Almost there! This beard feels surprisingly marketable, but I think a few more weeks of steady growth might turn it into something transcendent. I really hope the hipster revolution lasts that long!

Possible names for this beard:

• The chin valance
• Goat bristles
• The Jew Manchu

November 2015

There's a happy camper! It has taken over 10 tedious months, but I have finally achieved a face full of of downy, indulgent tufts. Never have my cheeks felt so luxurious, so fleecy, so self-aware.  I'm going to burn some vacation days this week so I can spend more time fluffing.

Possible names for this epic beard:

• Neckbeard supreme
• The Dwalin
• Z.L. Top

January 2016
This year is full of possibilities... for my investors! Realistically, my trademarked beards aren't going to dethrone the Soul Patch or the Goatee any time soon, but with a little venture capital, I bet we can overtake the Shenandoah and the Dali this year! Does anyone know how to use Kickstarter?

With warmest regards (and warmest jowls), 

Zach

Star Wars: What No One Else Has The Courage To Say About It

Dear Friends,

For the third consecutive month, the Hard Taco jingle focuses on levity and brevity rather than pensiveness and extensiveness. At 78 seconds, "Manchego" is so short, I will only need to spend $11.5 million dollars to play it over a blank screen during the Superbowl.

Two months ago, we treated you to an uncannily accurate prediction of the newest James Bond film. Today, I'm going to do that same breaststroke in a much more crowded pool, and offer heroic predictions about Star Wars Episode VII.

SPOILER ALERT: It's quite possible that I am going to tell it like it is, so read on only if you want the gospel truth and the no nonsense treatment.

What will happen now that Disney owns the rights to the Star Wars franchise?
As soon as The Force Awakens leaves theaters, Disney will make plans to re-release it in exactly 20 years. That's how long it will take for the technology to finally catch up with Walt Disney's original vision of the movie, in which a whistling Han Solo bobs up and down on his noodle-like legs and steers a steamboat.

Will the new Star Wars movie rely heavily on computer-generated graphics?
No. To appease the fan base, they will return to the tradition of implying awesome technology, rather than showing it. As in the original trilogy, characters will simply describe space vehicles as either "operational," "quite operational," or "fully operational," and let the audience imagine how cool they must be.

Why is Luke Skywalker not shown in the preview?
Some time in the last 30 years, Luke became a Sith. They can't show him in the preview without giving this away, because now he has one of the two stigmata of Sith-hood: Horns or a hoodie. (Also known as the "Sith Hood.")

If you watched the end of "Return of the Jedi," you may have had an inkling that Luke was destined for villainy. The most obvious clue is that he was unthinkably rude to his father's corpse. In one scene, he helped Vader remove his mask. In the next scene, he burned his father's remains, and the mask was back on! Let's not forget that removal of that mask was Anakin's dying wish. Luke waited until Anakin was dead, and then immediately put it back on his face! That's pretty damn disrespectful, if you ask me.

Imagine if a loved died after a prolonged ICU stay. Would you reattach the ventilator to the body and bring them both to the morgue to be cremated together?

That vent really helped Dad for a while, so I'm sure he'd prefer that its ashes be eternally intermingled with his own.  And while we're at it, let's take his walker and his dentures and toss those in the fire, too. They were really part of his look there, at the end.

Is Leia also a Sith?
I predict yes! But in name only.

A voice change is typical when someone turns to the Dark Side. When Anakin became Darth Vader, his voice became lower and richer. When Luke gave into his hate, perhaps he chose to mark his transformation with a saucy lisp. In Episode VII, when he sees Leia for the first time in years, he shouts, "Hey, Sith! Join me and carry on the workth of Darth Sidiuth!"

Will Luke Skywalker finally die in this movie?
Definitely. In the interest of time, let's hope he's one of the Jedi who inexplicably disappears when he dies, like Yoda or Obiwan, rather than one of the ones who has to be burned on a pyre, like Anakin or Qui Gon.

Who is the adorable little droid in the preview that rolls around the desert on some sort of gyro-sphere?
Its name is BB-8, and it was built over 50 years after R2D2. Apparently, that's still not enough time for robot manufacturers to develop a friendly sidekick droid that can handle stairs.

With warmest regards,
Zach

Halloween in Hawaii: The Legend of Sleepy Mahalo

Dear Friends,

Aloha from Oahu! It is November where you are, but here in Honolulu, it is still October 31, so I wish you a very happy Helewi! If you can't deduce the meaning of that word from context clues, just remember that Hawaiians treat their consonants like lazy teenagers: They never finish anything and aren't allowed to touch each other.

Goodnight Tushy
This month's Hard Taco song, "Can We Please Just Hang Out Now?" touches on the subject of Hawaii. Here's how it came to be:

Young Malcolm is a typical kid with a typical bedtime routine. He puts on pajamas, brushes his teeth, reads a story, and begs me to pile all of his stuffed animals in a different room because they are possessed by evil spirits. Then, I tuck him in, scratch his back, and turn the lights out. As I walk out of the room, I shake my butt like a Tahitian dancer, and he says, "Goodnight, Tushy." We have imparted a sense of finality to that statement. Once he utters those two words, the day is officially over and he is forbidden from getting out of bed until morning.

Not surprisingly, he has tried everything in his power to postpone saying goodnight to my butt.

"Daddy, I'm thirsty!" Sucks to be you.

"Daddy, I heard a creepy noise!" If you survive until morning, you can show me your scars during breakfast.

Then one day, he strung together a series of words that successfully deferred my rump-shaking. "Daddy, let's write a song together!"

Aw, how can I say no to that? The product of that procrastination session is this month's Hard Taco song, "Can We Please Just Hang Out Now?" Malcolm wanted to explore the subject of friendship. Specifically, the theme is the urgency of wanting to hang out with your friend immediately when he returns from vacation to Hawaii. Malcolm knew that we were planning this trip to the Aloha State, so perhaps he wanted to write a song that his friends could sing to him.

Get That Grizzly a Coconut Bra
This reminds me a comic strip I once read in the University of Wisconsin student-run newspaper, The Daily Cardinal. When I was a med student in Madison, The Cardinal was four pages long, and nearly 20% of its ink was wasted on feeble student-drawn comic strips. These strips consistently managed to be both disgusting and migraine-inducing, like a pile of poop in a strobe light. Here's an example:

Stick figure 1: Let's go to the mall.
Stick figure 2: Okay!

Stick figure 1: (Getting attacked by a bear) Aaaahhh!
Stick figure 2: I thought you said, "Let's go to M-A-U-L."

I remember reading this, and actually becoming angry at the young cartoonist who brought this strobe-lit dung into my life. The art, setup, and delivery were pathetic and the pun didn't even make grammatical sense.

But then, a miracle happened. A Labor Day Miracle, you could say, if we were to name miracles after the most proximate holiday.

With a few quick pencil strokes, the comic transformed into this:

Stick figure 1: Let's go to the mall.
Stick figure  2: Okay!

Stick figure  1: (Getting attacked by a bear in a grass skirt) Aaaahhh!
Stick figure 2: I thought you said, "Let's go to M-A-U-I."

Suddenly, this comic was ver funny. If it had been drawn this way in the first place, it may have been worth a chuckle. What made it sidesplittingly, life-alteringly hilarious was the net change in funniness, the humor delta, if you will. The transformation from a negative black hole of failure to something slightly whimsical was such an massive and dramatic shift, my system was unable to handle it.

I erupted in laughter, right in the middle of class. Pushing my lips together in hopes of suppressing the sound only led to mirthful, spasmodic snorting. I had never lost control of my diaphragm before, but I was out-of-control and I actually had to get up and leave the room because I was disrupting class.

In case you don't appreciate why this is funny, let me explain it to you: It is preposterous that someone would travel all the way to Hawaii because of a misunderstanding, only to be attacked by an animal that isn't indigenous to the area, but is trying to fit in by wearing the traditional costume of local... 

Sorry, I can't finish that sentence, because I'm snorting again and have to excuse myself from the computer room.

With warmest regards,
Zach

P.S. During this trip, I learned a traditional Hawaiian Halloween joke. I don't remember the setup, but the punch line is, "The SPOOK-ulele." 

Special James Bond Preview

Dear Friends,

The Hard Taco song for October is called "Billowing Parachute Silk." If you have 97 seconds of free time today, you can listen to this whole song. Of course, it may be more manageable if you space it out through the day in 97 one-second increments.

For Your Eyes Alone: 
I can barely quell my excitement about the new James Bond movie. This one promises to have even more spying than the last five Bond films. I did a little armchair espionage and put together this preview from unauthorized interviews.

Movie Title
The Brand New Adventures of James Bond

Opening Sequence
A masked man chases 007 through the streets of Chennai. Bond leaps over a fruit stand. The masked man plows right through it, spilling plums on the cobblestone street.

Clutching a booby-trapped attaché case, Bond races into a petting zoo. The masked man chases him onto a hayride, just as it is pulling into the farm. The adversaries have a fistfight on the hayride, and Bond is outmatched. As the masked man prepares to deliver the decisive blow, the wagon goes under a low bridge. The masked man fails to duck, and is beheaded. The mask stays on. James Bond turns to a nearby goat and introduces himself, last name first.

Suddenly, two assassins approach on a tandem bike and snatch the booby-trapped attaché case. Bond springs from the hay wagon onto the back seat of the bike, dethroning the rear assassin.  As the bike careens crazily down a winding suburban street, Bond wrestles with the other assassin for control of the front seat. He succeeds, forcing the man to the rear seat, where the villain is relegated to peddling while Bond steers.

Suddenly, the bike is overtaken by a duo of henchman on the back of a camel. They are sitting on separate humps. The rear henchman has his hands around the front henchman's waist to avoid falling off.  Bond jumps from the tandem bike to the camel.  He wrestles both henchmen, vying for position on the front hump. The combatants push each other's faces, but Bond does so more vigorously, and the henchmen are both consigned to the rear hump.

Daniel Craig defeats a henchman with a ferocious facepush while on camelback.

Finally, 007 catches up with the notorious El Chevre, a master villain with an eye patch, a soul patch, and a nicotine patch. El Chevre swipes the booby-trapped attaché case, handcuffs it to himself, and runs into an abandoned ice rink. Bond follows him, commandeers a pair of ice skates, and gives chase. Two flunkies and lackey, who have also rented skates, impede Bond's progress. James pirouettes evasively and the flunkies skate into a Zamboni. It explodes.

Bond returns his skates (so he can get his shoes back), and pursues El Chevre to a nearby dock.

"You're too late, James Bond," shouts the villain as he climbs into a paddleboat and starts paddling lazily across the pond. Bond climbs into another paddleboat, and paddles lazily in pursuit. Almost immediately, they are trapped in a strong current and dragged towards a 3000-foot waterfall. At the last second, Bond dives overboard as the two paddleboats lurch over the edge of the waterfall and burst into flames.

As he pulls himself onto the muddy shore, a weary James Bond looks across the pond and sees a courtesan in a yellow fur coat helping El Chevre into a two-rotor helicopter. As the helicopter takes off, El Chevre gazes arrogantly down and twirls his soul patch.

The scene fades to red. The familiar jungle trance surf rock music starts to play. Ian Fleming's name appears over a sequence of writhing nude silhouettes pushing each other's faces on paddleboats.

Bond Girls
Name: Viktoriya Sex-Vegetable
Role: Moldovan secret agent
Quote as she dies in James Bond's arms: "Meester Bund. I regret only I deed not keep last name when I get myarried. Feelling out forms when you have hypheenated last name is real pain."

Name: Bath Meat
Role: Danish double agent
Quote as she dies in James Bond's arms: "I trust no one, including the doctors who tell me to refrain from sexual activity until this cavernous abdominal wound heals."

Name: Lisa
Role: New Jersey insurance agent
Quote as she dies in James Bond's arms: "You're... in... good hands with Allstate."

Will 007's Aston Martin have a rear spoiler? 
Spoiler alert: It will.

Closing thoughts
Everything that Q gives to James Bond is an In-SPECTRE Gadget. You're welcome.

With warmest regards,
Zach

Bonus Activity: 
Are you one of the 2% who can recognize these James Bond movie titles with one letter changed?

• The Soy Who Loved Me
• License to Kiln
• Die Another Dad
• Shyfall
• Ontopussy

How to Argue with a Cop

Dear Friends,

The Hard Taco song for September is called, "Cops! Cops! Cops!" If you have to shout something three times in a row, Cops is much easier than Toy Boat, and much safer than Beetlejuice. 

You never know when you'll end up on a bus with the man your wife is having an affair with. When it happens, you'll need some fresh ice-breaker ideas to keep things from getting awkward.

Here's a good cop-themed ice-breaker: Do you remember the first time you witnessed an argument between a police officer and a civilian? My first time was almost 20 years ago, and it was exhilarating! Honestly, it is one of my most treasured memories. The suspect was my friend, Jeff, and his alleged crime was driving his car into a drainage ditch. 

Let me set the scene. About ten minutes before the incident, Jeff declared, "The [Ford Bronco II] has four-wheel drive. Everyone knows that, right?" The other passengers and I agreed. Everyone did know that.

Thus, he explained, the police would not only condone him driving around in a dark field, but they would expect it of him. "When you've got an off-road vehicle," he pointed out, "never driving off-road is basically illegal."

I had to admit, that made a whole lot of sense.

Five minutes later, the Ford Bronco II was lodged in a ditch behind the JCC. Ten minutes after that, a policeman showed up and wrote Jeff a citation for reckless driving, 

Jeff was not angry with the policeman... the poor officer was simply misinformed about the situation. Very graciously, Jeff provided a recap of everything that had transpired, none of which was reckless.

First, he pulled up carefully to the scene of he accident, got out of the car, and inspected the slope and lie of the ditch. He meticulously tested the soil firmness and erosion potential with his foot. Then he returned to the car, made sure all passengers were safely restrained, lifted his foot off the brake and idled carefully into the ditch. In this this sober and deliberate manner, the car was marooned hopelessly with it's rear wheels spinning in the air. We were able to corroborate this entire story, and assure the policeman that our driver had lodged the vehicle in the muddy trench with the utmost attention to safety. And as passengers, we found the experience to be not the least bit harrowing or interesting.

At this point, the policeman should have concluded, as I had, that driving directly into the ditch was the only rational decision that Jeff could have made in this set of circumstances. After all, everybody knows that the Ford Bronco II is a four-wheel drive vehicle.

Jeff said that his only regret was that he had miscalculated the aptitude of his three passengers in lifting the car out of the ditch. In conclusion, if he was given a chance to do it all over again, he would do it exactly the same way and change nothing. Everyone miscalculates sometimes, and you can't go through life beating yourself up about it.

The policeman had no rebuttal for any of this. I guess there isn't much to say when confronted with so many layers of shatterproof logic. The bastard just handed Jeff the citation and called a tow-truck for us.

A couple months later, Jeff disputed this ticket in court. He argued that reckless driving was a moving violation. How could he be guilty of a moving violation when his vehicle was NOT moving? If the Ford Bronco II had moved, at least so far as to extricate itself from the ditch, there would have been no problem! Apparently, the judge agreed, and reckless driving was reduced to trespassing, which carried a lower fine and no points. Justice.

Of course, if we really were trespassing, the JCC could have shot us or sicced their dogs on us. I'm sure Jeff would have been just as patient with an irate Dauberman* as he was with the cop. As it lunged towards him, menacing and frothy-mouthed, he would have calmly reassured it that there was nothing to worry about, because his car was an off-road vehicle. Everyone knows that.

With warmest regards,
Zach

* An imaginary guard dog only found at the JCC

Postcards From Panama, Part 7

Dear Friends,

The Hard Taco song for August is the named, "Worth the While," and I like to think it is aptly titled. 

Meanwhile, here is the annual installment of "Postcards from Panama." If you need a refresher on the puzzling relationship of our heroes, you can find it here. 

Postcards From Panama, Part 7

8/5/15
Dear Karen,

You will be pleased to know that I am a philanthropist now. I donated some of my hair to an organization called, “Locks of Lust.” They are a non-profit that provides used clumps of hair to very sick people. (Apparently, some of the sickest!) It’s not a big deal, except that now I am getting to be known for my beneficence and my large bald spot. 

With warmest regards,
Michael

8/9/15
Dear Karen, 

Would you like me to send you a picture of my new comb over? A growing number of people (mostly women our age or slightly younger) have commented to each other about how tasteful it is. I will send you some photos that showcase my comb over from different tasteful angles.

Unfortunately, there is only one place around here that develops film, and I don’t trust the suspicious-looking boy who works there. What if he makes extra copies of my comb over pictures for his own purposes? I know this photo is important to you, so I will risk it.

With warmest regards, 
Michael

8/11/15
Dear Karen,

My neighbor, Dignidad, is in a support group for people who suffer from emotional eating. I sometimes eat when I am hungry. I assume hunger is an emotion, so perhaps I should join the group? They meet on Thursday afternoons at one of the mall kiosks. It is next to the place that develops film, so I can excuse myself from the support group every few minutes to spy on the suspicious-looking film boy. 

With warmest regards,
Michael

8/14/15
Dear Karen,

What a night! You would be amazed to learn about all the different emotions that can lead to binge eating! Obviously, sadness is the big one, but tonight I met people who stuff their faces when they feel all kinds of things... timid, detached, trusting, or even indignant. 

As you may expect, there was much less diversity in the type of foods involved. Everyone in the support group overeats the same traditional diet of plantains, root vegetables, and tropical fruits. 

With warmest regards, 
Michael

8/15/15
Dear Karen,

The woman who mediates the emotional eating support group is named Nobleza Moralidad, which means Nobility Morality. She is a recovering emotional eater, and she has a Panamanian Unibrow. This is different from the unibrows you see in the United States, where the two eyebrows meet in the middle of the forehead. Nobleza Moralidad’s eyebrows extend outwards around the sides of the head and meet in the back. It is very unflattering, but I won’t tell her that, because it might send her into a corkscrew of shame and cause her to relapse. 

With warmest regards,
Michael

8/20/15
Dear Karen,

Nobleza Moralidad invited me to dinner at her favorite mid-scale restaurant, Chorizo on Skewers. I assumed she was vetting me to verify my status as a card-carrying emotional eater. 

Over dinner, I mostly talked about you, and about how we agreed to get married after 20 years if both of us were still single. This made me a little emotional (4 on a 10 point scale), so I ate three chorizo skewers. I told her that you and I never got around to exchanging promise rings, but if we had, I wouldn’t be able to wear one anymore because my fingers had become fat from all of the emotional eating. After that, I cried for fifteen minutes and ate ten more chorizo skewers. Mostly, I ate them with my mouth open, so I could keep crying. 

As we were leaving the restaurant, she informed me that she had not been vetting me for the support group. It turns out that our dinner had been a date! Either way, I think it went pretty well.


With warmest regards,
Michael

8/22/15
Dear Karen,

Oh no! There was an old mestizo woman selling photos of my comb over at the Farmer’s Market today! I don’t know how she got them, but I am positive that it has something to do with the suspicious-looking boy at the photo shop! The silver lining to this whole fiasco is that I was able to buy every copy she had, and I will send them all to you shortly. Would you prefer them in 12-panel frame or a more organic-looking photo collage?

With warmest regards,
Michael

8/25/15
Dear Karen,

I broke up with Nobleza Moralidad this afternoon. I could tell she was angry, because she immediately turned around and started gorging herself with plantains and root vegetables. The other clue to her anger was the furrowed unibrow on the back of her head. 

Karen,  I know that you and I have been “keeping it loose,” but I think I’m finally ready to take it to the next level with you. Please write back and let me know your daytime phone number and how you are doing. Also, please include detailed information regarding whether you think that taking it to the next level is something we should do this very minute, or if we should wait a couple more weeks. I am willing to wait two weeks so your co-workers don’t accuse you of being my rebound wife.

With warmest regards, 

Michael