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Hey shit stain, I just finished reading this little suicide note of yours and I gotta tell you, it's fucking awful. I mean, I've never really read one of these before, but if they’re all as boring and poorly-written as yours, then I think the entire genre should just be discontinued. Seriously, this thing is just flat-out terrible.
First of all, you open with, "To whom it may concern:" Are you fucking kidding me? This is your final statement to the entire world, the last thoughts you will ever share with the handful of people who are going to feel guilty enough to take off half a personal day and go to the pathetic little "celebration of life" that someone’s going to have to put on for you -- and you start out with the salutation from a college recommendation letter? Unless you decided to off yourself because of a tragic love affair with an assistant dean of admissions, there is no way that should be your opener.
And by the way, what is up with that colon? If you had at least sacked up and put a comma on the end of that shit then the reader might have glided over the actual verbiage. But God damn, that colon is just so awkward. It really makes the reader uncomfortable -- and I don't mean pain and sorrow of premature death uncomfortable. I mean the new girl at work walking into a meeting with her skirt tucked into her panty hose uncomfortable.
And though one might think you had nowhere to go but up after that cringe-inducing opener, if that’s what one thought, one would be sadly mistaken. Look, I’m way too nice of a guy to sit here and list ALL the ways in which this thing sucks, but there are a few truly awful moments that simply demand individual recognition.
In the first paragraph, you have this whole bit about the crushing trauma of your break-up with Emily Falcone. Newsflash, jackwad, you went out with that skank for all of three weeks in the tenth grade. She “broke-up” with you by skipping your last “study date” to do a three-way with the assistant manager and the drive-through-guy at a Jack-in-the-Box. The fact that you would even mention that “relationship” in a suicide note ten years later is reason enough to kill yourself.
Not exactly Drano, now is it?
Then you ramble on about how you just want to be free from all your troubles and shit. I guess that's pretty standard stuff for a suicide note, but then you go ahead and drop this little ass nugget: “Even though I’ve wanted to be free for so long, I guess in the end, freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.”
Uhh, did I read that right? Did you really just explain your decision to end your own life with a line from “Me and Bobby McGee”? That brings new meaning to the term "pathetic-retarded-faggotized." Seriously, did you think you were going to strike some kind of emotional chord with your readers by using one of the most over-quoted lines in music history? If so, you're even dumber than I realized. Fortunately, Janis Joplin drank herself to death and there's no chance that she'll ever have to read that.
And finally there’s the dingleberry on top of this little shit sundae of yours. The last paragraph - your very last chance to say anything to anyone - starts out with, “Walking home the other day, the setting sun behind the trees radiated in the most brilliant orange and gold . . . ”
What the fuck? This is supposed to be your clincher paragraph and you start it with a dangling participle?? That’s just disgusting. I mean, last time I checked, the sun is a fiery gaseous ball at the center of our solar system, so I’d be willing to bet that it wasn’t “walking home the other day.” Just because you're on the precipice of existential despair doesn't mean you can simply discard the basic rules of sentence structure.
I suppose the one bright spot in all of this is that you’ll at least have the chance to do a re-write. Yeah, I guess seven Tylenol gelcaps and a Sunny D chase just aren’t potent enough to do the job on a three-bill behemoth like yourself. So hopefully all my constructive criticism won’t go to waste.
And hey, if you do give it another shot, would you mind waiting until your mother and I get back from that Caribbean cruise we’re going on? The tickets are non-refundable and there’s an additional fee if we fly home early from one of the ports, so do your old man a favor and bear the pain of living until at least February 23rd. Thanks.
I was thinking this article was slowing down and getting lame... until the end. Nice!
rock city
P-R-F
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Posted: 2/1/2006 9:35:33 AM
"Pathetic-Retarded-Faggotized." definitely a phrase that doesn't get enough airplay these days... Nice work.
e
Sir
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Posted: 2/1/2006 10:09:18 AM
Nicey done. I love the ending -- what a shocker!
Atlas
Great Job
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Posted: 2/1/2006 10:21:15 AM
I bequeath to you the title the Earle of Assbaggery. Nice ending.
GRB
Great!
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Posted: 2/1/2006 10:53:15 AM
The whole time I'm wondering, "Who could know all of these personal details?"...never expect the father. Brilliant!
Tom Mc
Wow
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Posted: 2/1/2006 11:07:36 AM
that was fucking hilarious. Only a loving father would give constructive criticism like that.
Tom Kazansky
M. Night Shymalan is envious
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Posted: 2/1/2006 12:32:31 PM
Aha, I could just hear all the haters crumpling up their hate notes to you over the inappropriateness of parodying a dead man's note when you reveal... douchebag ain't dead. So clever. While the behemoth needs a rewrite, you certainly don't. And your grammar teachers must be so proud of you!
Christine
Mr. Sanford
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Posted: 2/1/2006 12:52:55 PM
I realize now that I will have you all to myself. There are too many other readers who share in the love I hold for you. If I can't have you all day, everyday and sometimes right after lunch, then I can't go on. I have no choice but to hurl myself off the Walt Whitman bridge and plummet to certain muddy death. Goodbye.
How was that?
Cory
Good One
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Posted: 2/1/2006 1:08:22 PM
Who's got time to write a suicide note anyway.....
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