LETTER FROM ABOVE
SIMON LINCOLN READER: That place of fire and brimstone awaits you, Robert
Dear Robert, I’m afraid there’s bad news, then there’s worse news — and then there’s the worst news
My dear Robert. As much a shock as this appears, it isn’t all about you. Despite the fact that you took voluntary leave of your senses many years ago, with this coup, (sorry, "correction") I also wanted to liven up that innumerate jester located to the south of your border and poke his and his useful idiots’ rampaging paranoia (I can’t wait for the "it’s the foreign forces" squeal — never gets old that one!). Back to business: I’m afraid there’s bad news, then there’s worse news, and then there’s the worst news. The bad news is that this is the last time you’ll ever hear from me. I think you know what this means (more about it later). Given these unfortunate circumstances, I feel compelled to answer something I know has always made you extremely cross. All your life you aspired to be an English gentleman. I know you hate black peasants, but hating black peasants and naming your youngest child "Bellarmine" was really taking liberties. I mean, what kind of a name is that for the son o...
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