To the MadMan

Please forgive my tardy response. I sat down and began to compose one almost a week ago, and then lost it.

I have read your rants and ramblings, and found myself lost in your chaotic logic and hilarity. I find it an utmost pleasureable experience in general, let me assure you. I heard that you had written about moi and I found myself instantly defensive. I figure that a couple times a week, I sit at my computer, most often now in my pyjamas, tossing out a mental pissing and you have the audacity to play Gene Fucking Shalit? I do not think so. We have never had the time to bond- you-a man that does not know me; you are dangerously underqualified to pretend to answer my life's deepest questions. At best, you would be compared to a Freudian Yukon Cornelius- throwing your mental pick axe in the air, only to lick the cold steel for answers to ingest, yet inevitably, you come back with "Nuthin'!"

All I can truly say to you my good man- is you are right. And I was wrong. And I was so glad to read what you had written. You are Oh-so-fabulously....CORRECT. Bless you a thousand times. After my inital medical diagnosis, I can tell you that I began to re-hash my self, my entire existance. I had come up with the exact same conclusion the morning before I read your blog to me. I have placed too much importance on the insignifigant. I have placed too much importance on those around me, those that were unworthy in the first place. I do have an enormous amount of strength, yet I refused to recognize it. Thank you, bless you, love you for taking the time and speaking out of turn about something that was none of your business in the first place. You have my gratitude. I owe you, and I promise to remember this always.