Dear So and So...

Dear Bird Singing Outside my Window at 5:30 AM last Saturday--I get it. You're hungry. And I've been out of feed for two days. I know I've made the commitment to keep those feeders full and I'll go to the Drive Thru Feed Store today. But listen to me, you perky crimson moron, it was five-freakin'-thirty. On a Saturday. It was still dark outside, for gosh sakes! Darkness on a Saturday morning means it's officially still night and I am officially still sleeping. Keep it up and I'll take away the black oil sunflower seed you love and fill those feeders with nothing but cracked corn. Sincerely--Mrs. Audobon

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Dear Tiny Town--If you're going to close the two main roads in town, one leading through town to the east, the other leading out of town to the west--at least post an alternative route. Don't assume that everyone in town knows to go up two blocks, turn at Esther Mae's house, go three blocks to where the old cemetary was and turn left to get back on the highway.
And why are there so many one way streets in a town this size? Everyone in the county could drop in at the same time and there wouldn't be enough people to cause a congestion.
That said, sometimes you are terribly quaint and old-timey. Loved the tractor parade to kick off the Corn Festival. It was worth being trapped in town for an hour.
---A New(ish) Neighbor
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Dear Person Who Drives 30 MPH for 17 miles each day at 4:30 in the afternoon. On the two lane state highway with a speed limit of 55---I know there are some tight curves on this road. And a few hills and very little shoulder. But, really, 30 MPH? The entire way? In dry weather on sunny days? I know the hulking power under the hood of the Kia may be intimidating but could you at least pull over every now and then to clear up the snaking line of traffic behind you?
Impatiently--The Leader of the Parade of Drivers in Your Rearview Mirror.
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Dear Commuter Karma---What is it with you that has me stuck behind Super-Cautious-Driver for 17 miles and the only times oncoming traffic allows for passing SCD we are traveling in those tight curve no passing or blind hill zones? Why don't you give me a break and go kick around the civil engineer who planned that road?
--Commuter In Search of the Tao of Driving
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Dear Civil Engineer--Listen, I keep looking at the rocks, trees, flowers, fences--anything--in the vicinity of those tight back to back curves along my commuter route and I don't see a single thing that indicates they couldn't have been plowed under in favor of a straight roadway. Nada. No burrowing owls, no rare field mice, not a single swamp rose or rare prairie grass. This isn't scenic, you goofball, it's annoyingly slow in good weather and outright dangerous in bad. And I figure all those twists and turns increase my commute distance by a good 8 miles. I've put in an appeal to Commuter Karma to have you punished. Expect to spend your eternity riding in a silver blue Kia at 30 MPH with two old ladies on a road that stretches forever into the horizon.
Helpfully---Driver Who Aims for the Straight Road

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Dear So and So...

Dear Person Who So Miserably Failed to Understand the Concept of Leadership--"Sam, there are three people on this staff that I always stuck up for--Steve, Sue and Sally" was really no way to say goodbye to the fourth member of the staff . Bad mouthing TPTB, those who hold your paycheck--and now your severance--in the pages of their account books, is also bad karma. By the way, the moment you demand respect--and fail to exhibit it toward others, above and below your position--you have disqualified yourself from deserving it. You might find some insight in this that reveals why you were let go yesterday. And, just so you know, Gumby is not saying you are #1 as he waves goodbye. Not at all, at all.

*****

Dear Sam--Did you wake up this morning with a job to go to? And who didn't? I think that about covers it. But if you want to send your Gumby to my house, I'll fix him up with a special wave too.

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Dear Catless Person--I don't really care if it was the economy or a hard heart that caused you to throw her away in the woods out back. She's hungry and lost and looking in my window for her family. You suck.
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Dear Husband--Storing the hideous apple streusel fiber bars in the box labeled "Oats and Chocolate" fiber bars is just mean. Isn't it punishment enough that there are fiber bars in my pantry instead of Hershey bars? I should have listened when my nose tried to warn me as I opened it. Instead I had to spit saliva sticky apple streusel fiber bar into my hand. And rinse my mouth out with alcohol. I suggest you check your shoes.