A Letter to Patches

Mr. Dicklesworth---

I LOVE your emails. I just never check that account any more and keep forgetting to get back at you.

How's dadhood? Hows the baby? Send pictures of the little devil, I int seen him yet.

Things here are as portlandy as always. Bikes, beer and boobs. In that order.

The economy is putting the squeeze on us here finally, but since the Obama come in things are picking up a bit. I see from my special red/blue map that ada county didn't even go for the man. You'd think those fuckin yayhoos would have figured it out by now, but I guess I can't be surprised.

You realize that negro's gonna take away your guns, Patches?

I sold a track bike because my knee is giving me hell and now that I'm a serious bike racer dude I can't afford to suffer like that. My new porteur is so relaxing and can carry things. A Revelation!

I like your blog. It fuckin took long enough. Post more shit, it'll make you feel better.

I'm nearly 37 years old, drunk and broken down with two kids living in a rented house in this rainy town. I ain't never been happier.

Paste that in your Broadway show.

Ta, a