Just Try Making Me Recycle
Please cease and desist sending your stupid magazine. I can assure you it goes straight to the trash can, not the recycle bin. I am so sick and tired of being preached to about “global warming” (“Green People,” July). That may play well with your green weenies, but I know it is nothing but a huge Federal power grab, much like the so-called Patriot Act. The last straw is the article about that stupid kid from Boulder who’s going to change the world acting as that idiot Gore’s agent (“Locally Incorrect,” July).
If you people want to be taken seriously, I suggest you get someone other than a kid who doesn’t know his little scrawny (sic) from a hole in the ground. He can’t vote, he has no income other than what mommy and daddy give him, therefore, he pays no taxes. I’ll be damned if I’m going to listen to some punk kid who has no say in the matter.
If you keep sending your stupid magazine, I will save them all up for a year and ship them back to you return postage so you can recycle them.
They’re not even good enough to hang in an outhouse as they are too slick. I am going to do everything I can to increase my “carbon footprint.”
I am going to burn every drop of gasoline I can afford. I am not recycling (try and make me). I am going to use lots and lots of electricity, and I hope I can produce enough refuse to pile higher than Mt. Elbert, and, I sincerely hope you don’t like it. A global warming denier and proud of it.
—Dale Johnson, Westminster
Editor’s Note: We are patiently waiting for Mr. Johnson’s picture to appear next to the Webster entry for “Ignorant.”
Good With a Buzz Cut
You know, you folks have really put together a fun magazine! I borrowed it from my barbershop with every good intention of returning it. But there was so much I wanted to keep on file or share with friends there was only a remnant of a magazine when I was done. Maybe I’ll take them several other magazines in fair exchange? Where did the name come from? Thanks. Keep up the uniquely fine work.
—David Samuel, Boulder
Editor’s Note: Porter, the office German Shepherd, keeps an eye on the stone tablets that contain the secret to the origin of our name.