Dear Art,
Once upon a time I was literally dying. I Know some people scoff, but Let me just recap what was killing me.
The main problem is that I had officially joined the counter-culture. I know that is hard to believe but it is true. One day, I took the bus to the Southeast regional office of the counter-culture and paid my dues. It was expensive for sure, 2 grams of hash and an ounce of mexican, but at the time I thought it was worth every penny. For that I received a patch, a headband, A "peace" t-shirt, and a Led Zeppelin album, and a "I hate Richard Nixon" bumper sticker.
To be sure, it was the bumper sticker that prompted my father to seek out treatment for my disease as he knew I was in the first steps of addiction, insanity, by my daring to keep in print any criticism of the government.
Oh how I treasured these things but Little did I know they would lead me down the path of ruin and addiction. How do I know this for certain? because you told me so silly!
Now, of course I had never done anything but smoke a little of that marijuana and hash that I purchased for my counter-culture dues, but after one month of being locked up and rapped to daily, discussing my sexuality and earning the right to pee, a light bulb went on. I started calling the bulb "god", and then one day John Underwood screamed at me until I pissed myself, then everyone took turns calling me names and telling me what a piece of shit I was "on the street". Wow, it was like a miracle, I finally realized I WAS AN ADDICT AND YOUR PROGRAM HAD SAVED ME.
I tell everyone I meet that I was dying as a child and you saved me. Had you not locked me up in that warehouse, with all that fiberglass dust, the guards, and the peanut butter sandwiches, I would Be DEAD, INSANE or INJAIL.
If anyone ever doubts that I Come down on em, just like you taught me,and then I never speak to them again!
Thank you for everything. You are not just my hero, you know what I am thinking right now!
signed,
The mayor.