Dear Readership,

I felt it was only fair, at least once, to favor you with a post written in letter format. Seeing as how this blog is called Epistles at Dawn, and especially since that's a rather poor pun, a letter would be the only way to salvage this thing. So how are you? The kids? Did Suzie make the cheerleading squad? Is Billy still self-conscious about being a severe hydrocephalic? How's that new hip working out for you?
As for me, I've been chillin'. Illin'. Not really maxin' too much, but curiously enough, a lot more co' relaxin' these days. The other day someone told me to chillax, and I said , dude, I'm chillin' and co' relaxin': I don't need to chillax. You chillax. Biznatch.
So in summary, it's time to Bork this Roberts fellow. I'm serious: we need to Bork the shit out of him.

Fondest Wishes,

Son of a Fish