Ah, such smoldering anger from the Letter-Writer! Well, Fred, I don't know about you, but if you can't laugh at it... this way, hopefully, both you and Mr. Letter-Writer can laugh it off.

Anyway, I thought it needed a more appropriate setting: a smoky dive in Greenwich Village in the late 1950s. Everyone wears black. The reader is accompanied by a single alto sax player.

"dear mr. gallagher" (after the style of Charles Bukoswki)

dear mr. gallagher
there is a limit to my patience
you have now exceeded it

i get the impression
from things you've said in your column
that you'd like to be able to just quit your job, and do megatokyo
or some other artistic thing
for a living

that is never going to happen
not the way you keep acting
you don't take this seriously at all

i have seen more excuses
most of them as lame as a teenager's excuse for not having done his math homework
for your not doing a strip
than i have really memorable strips

if you really took this seriously
you wouldn't let every little thing distract you
you wouldn't stop
because it didn't feel right
you had a bad week

you'd do it anyway

maybe it wouldn't be your best work
but it would be work
you would have something up
a lot more often than you do. and it wouldn't be filler
it would be strips, story-related, plot-driven strips

professionals make product
not excuses

(saxophone solo)

i don't expect that you will answer this
that's fine
if you did, i would expect a lame defense
or more lame excuses

i'm done
wait, no
i'm not done yet

oh, i'll look
every now and then
if you ever go two months without missing a strip
i'll probably come back
maybe even e-mail a long, flowery apology

i don't anticipate it happening.

grow up
get some focus
or just give this up
and stop frustrating the people who look to you for a little amusement

no, i'm not a critic
in fact, i have my own artistic endeavors going
written, not drawn
and i put out story on a weekly basis
i have little hope of this story
correction, any of these stories
ever being produced professionally ever
but i have some forty-fifty people
who read my stuff pretty religiously
and they get something
every damned week

(saxophone coda)
There once was a man on the 'net
Wanted all the MT he could get
But Fred missed a few days
So he writes in and says:
"Your work's not professional yet!"

Limericks are fun.
Once did a fan write a mail
without realizing what it would entail
what he had finally brought about
thought he cast our dear Piro in doubt

in his goal to be snide
said the mailer with pride
'a professional you're not, deep inside'

And thus had he left with a huff
satisfied with his attempt at a bluff
realized he did not once that Piro
laughed so hard that he turned all shiro

what he thought was offensive
became highly hilarative
and thus begun our daily narrative

The mail was posted anonymous for his safety
and caused an uproar amongst us so lately
So the friends and fans on the thread
would not rest until the poor fool was dead

And so now the overzealous fan
has been hiding from us as he can
To which he has joined the Taliban

- (Copyright 2001, Wavehawk)
(Wrote this last night... I can never really get poetry to be funny (unlike smurd, who makes me giggle uncontrollably with a few mere format changes!), so I just went for 'overly melodramatic'; it seems appropriate)


Mr. Gallagher -

We would like to express our disappointment in the
Heart that you sent out recently; we found it
To be woefully lacking
In opacity
And improperly shuttered -
Many of our number were temporarily blinded by
The light that it gave off -
We found it to be very


For a true


Artist would never let such a thing stand
In the way of his work for it
Obscures and distorts
And a true


Artist would never bare such a thing
To his unsuspecting audience so
Brazenly and openly and
And a true


Artist would have been more careful about
Alienating those sections of his readership which prefer
To dwell in darkness
We are gravely disappointed

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