My Dear Toadbooger,
Your insufferable stupidity makes me even more bilious than usual. Don’t you remember the fiasco that ensued when that detestable Lewis chap exposed the miserific correspondence of those two fools we do not name in the Abyss? Well, dear Toadbooger, you threaten to repeat their ineffable folly! One of the accursed fleshbags is onto us AGAIN. The Enemy directed him to His abominated Word and knocked the props out from under our most cherished creation, political collectivism!
This is my personal development, you cretin, that you are allowing to be destroyed. Imagine my triumph when I convinced legions of the nasty little meat puppets that the Enemy actually wanted them to steal from each other in the name of Christian charity, and convinced them to ignore the inconvenient truth-a phrase I crafted, Toadbooger!-that theft, whatever the motive, remains against the Enemy’s disgusting law of love! Oh, and when they put my protege in charge of the most dangerous nation on that miserable mudball of a planet, I thought we would usher in the eternal reign of Our Father Below!
But the Enemy is nothing if not crafty; He promptly deployed His Word against my careful construct and, to add insult to injury, he used a socially marginal saint whose life I thought you had destroyed. Your failure to report this setback, Toadbooger, will incur all the usual penalties and then some, whatever His Most Depraved Majesty can derive. I was forced to interrupt my vastly pleasant abuse of Usama Bin Ladin to deal with your blithering incompetence… Toadbooger, that foul little prey item was so perplexed by the absence of virgins and catamites that he was nigh incoherent! I was just getting him loosened up properly when Snotgargle informed me of your stupendous blunder! I assure you, Toadbooger, that you will pay, and dearly; I am thinking you should forfeit your time with Harvey Milk, at the minimum. We might even demote you to the gang-graffiti division, where that junior fool-you know of whom I speak!-labors to this day!
I suggest, you young fool, that you get to work on your patients in the blogosphere-unless the damage is so widespread that it will take my personal intervention to stop this pernicious meme from getting out. It is too late to kill the messengers, Toadbooger: the filthy corpus of our Enemy is waking up, and you will only be sending them to our Foe’s welcoming arms-plus which I doubt the Enemy will let you do anything. You must start up a drumbeat to the effect that freedom equals selfishness; our estimable colleagues in the the Department of Education have done a stupendous job of molding-with many delicious green streamers and slimy tendrils of illogic and emotion-the little minds in their charge, and those patients graduate every day into the propaganda mill we have carefully built up into a magnificent edifice of Titanic egos and Lilliputian intellects. So groom your pet bloggers, Toadbooger, and see that the spirits in charge of MoveOn.org are notified to make a place for your new proteges. There is some hope that hysteria may yet drown reason: it had better for the sake of your insignificant career!
Your most fond uncle,