Please cancel my subscription to Mel Gibson's Sociopathic Rant of the Day.
Initially I subscribed for two reasons: first, I was curious exactly how crazy Mel could be; and second, I wanted to know how many abusive conversations you had to endure. After eighteen months, though, I realized the answer to the former was "pretty darned insane," and the latter was "a shitload." In October I switched to just Saturday and Sunday service, but I'm still finding I don't have time to listen to all your tapes.
I guess I should level with you, though, and say they're just not that interesting any more. I loved it when he threatened to kill you, and called you a cocksucking whore. Your latest recordings suffer in comparison. I don't mean to be heartless, but frankly I've been called worse things than a "pearshaped pea-shooter."
It's not all that humiliating to be dubbed a "palsy-fingered clam-shucker."
Perhaps I've grown, or maybe I'm fickle, but I no longer get that frisson of excitement when Mel uses forbidden words. In fact, rather than feeling aghast, I'm actually kind of sad that Mel's run through all the good minority groups and now says that when you wear your new Alaïa block-heel sandals you're going to be shunned by albinos, and that David Yurman smoky-quartz ring will have you disrespected by the Amish.
Yes, I realize this means I'll no longer be able to access SometimesMelLooksLikeAngelaLansbury.com, but something tells me I'll live.
Your dearest fan,
RomanHans
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