Belittling Letters to People Who Deserve to be Belittled

Dear friend of a friend who adds me on facebook within an hour of being introduced to me,
As flattered as I am that you found our conversation so stimulating an hour ago ("Oh yeah, this is my friend Colin." "Hey Colin, nice to meet you man, my name's Johnny Cottonmouth") I have some bad news for you: we're not friends. I'm sure that the habit of looking up everybody you meet on facebook comes from one of two situations - either you have so few friends, you actually believe that everyone who smiles at you and says hi is your BFF, or you have so few friends that hang out with you that you actually have created an alternate universe within the realm of facebook in your free time that you now believe to be reality. In either case, one fact reamins sad but true: you don't have friends. While your attempt at using the interweb to create a social network is admirable, you have got to realize that I'm rejecting your request for both of our reputations' sakes.
Your not so good acquaintance,
Johnny



Dear overzealous concert security guard,
While I'm sure you feel a great deal of smug satisfaction from managing to squeeze every last ounce of fun out of my concert-going experience, I want you to know that you are completely worthless. Many of your colleagues get on with their job by turning a blind eye to the little idiosyncratic routines that rock music enthusiasts tend to partake in, while keeping an eye out for people who may ACTUALLY CAUSE PHYSICAL HARM TO THEMSELVES OR ANOTHER PERSON. You, on the other hand, are keeping the peace by ensuring that even if I decided to pack an ounce of crack in my back pocket, you found my fifteen dollar wooden one-hitter and decided to pour salt in the wound by trashing an almost full box of cigarettes. Even if you had found something on me, the authority you are granted allows you to call somebody else who's actually important to law enforcement to come and do the job you so wish you could have yourself. Perhaps you're planning on snagging my cigarettes to sell to hobos since you're probably making about forty dollars total for standing outside of a concert that people who are much cooler than you decide to attend. Obviously you've never experienced anything fun like this, considering you assume that stoner kids are not resourceful enough to find a different way to smoke down during their favorite songs. I hope once you finally make it through those concert gates for your own pleasure that someone more important than you finds contraband that I will personally ensure is obviously on your person.
You're a stupid ugly whore and I hope you get fired,
Johnny



Dear girl who gets me drunk and makes out with me in hopes that I'll "feel something,"
I realize everybody feels a little lonely sometimes. But for God's sake, I do not like girls, and nothing you could possibly do will make me find you sexually attractive. If I were to go around making out with straight guys in hopes that I'd strike an anomaly, I'd get the shit kicked out of me. But since you're a girl, I have to just play it off like nothing's going on. Starting to sob and talking about how "this happens to me every time" or "why do all the good guys have to be gay" is not gonna make me throw you a pity fuck. If this is happening to you more than once in a blue moon, you really need to check yourself - I promise you, the vast majority of good-looking guys are straight, because the vast majority of guys are straight. And frankly, the vast majority of good-looking gay guys are already taken anyway. But that doesn't really matter to you. You'll take your first opportunity to go in for the kill again, and then lean back and ask me "really? nothing at all?" "OH MY GOD! YOU'RE RIGHT! The first time I was trying to pretend you were just a guy who had shaved in the last ten minutes and slipped and fell in a pool of perfume, but THIS time I've seen the light, and I'm going to throw my entire world upside down just for you." I want you to focus on that last statement. Coming out is, surprise surprise, a really fucking difficult thing to do, and I assure you, I would not have done so if I was still questioning whether I felt "anything at all." And honestly, please don't then try to insinuate I was leading you on, and then take personal offense that I didn't put out. Even Britney Spears got turned down by a gay man when she appeared spread-eagled in nothing but pink panties on a hotel bed, and she's famous enough it might at least make a funny story.
With high hopes of you finding yourself a fuckin boyfriend,
Johnny