Dear Saturn,
Your last letter left me unimpressed and a little annoyed. I can appreciate the whole "world gone mad" thing because I think that's true myself. I also enjoy writing in pencil from time to time, although less so because of my so-called "serial killer handwriting"--my beloved wife's words, not mine, of course. But what I did not expect is the shade you threw my way about hurting your precious reputation.
My desire is to educate, and I don't hesitate to tell people the truth. Yes, you can be a total prick. Yes, you can ruin the lives of many at least temporarily. Yes, the ancients thought you were an unmitigated, depression-inducing, authority-driven, limitation-having pain in the balls. And even in spite of your attitude, I do try to work with you as best I can. So what do you do? Travel the world wondering how badly I might have trashed you?
You make no bones about taking me to task, but as one of your chosen, let me do you the courtesy and dignity of doing the same.
You are the one who is supposed to keep shit from happening. You're the one who is supposed to impose control of the lives of others. These days, I do not see much of it, and I lay this on the ground at your feet and at the feet of your malefic motherfucking brother, Mars. Don't think I don't see that you two are coming together in a few weeks. That's a truly horrific combination, and it makes it incredibly challenging to find dates in August and September when people can do things. Nobody wants to be around you two. Hell, no one wants to be around either of you alone, but at least Mars gets shit done in a timely fashion. Yes, your ways are much more "dignified", and you don't break shit, but timeliness is not your strong suit.
I have been especially careful not to bash you for several months, and this is the thanks I get? You should know better than to fuck with me, Old Man. See you when you get back. Hopefully you will have also returned to your senses!
Yours Truly,
John
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