Dear October Jones

When my friend Matt sent me your link, http://textfromdog.tumblr.com/ , several thoughts passed through my head as I read your blog.

My first thought was that perhaps I had gone into a fugue state and somehow started another blog.  I was still skeptical of this mainly because I have no idea how people get screen-shots of text messages onto the computer, or even if that is how your blog actually works.  Then I remembered that I am in fact a genius and would figure out how to do that even in a fugue state.  For instance, one time, in a Milwaukee's Beast Ice-induced fugue I was somehow dressed nicely and wearing a lai, and I was able to wander into a fancy wine party.  Not only that, I was able to reject the fancy cheese platters that dotted the party like pretentious land mines, and I found out where they had hidden their Doritos.   Another time I went into a fugue and cut up a bunch of pumpkins with a katana, then got my friend Jordan blamed for their slaughter.  Clearly, I have the capability of such black out awesomeness to write your blog and not realize it.  But it doesn't seem right.

Next I thought that this was a trick perpetrated by my friend Kurt.  Back when there was a thing called "AOL" and "Instant Messenger", I started a screen-name called "Mr. Chirples" for the sole purpose of terrorizing Kurt.  The reasoning was that Mr. Chirples was a canary, and as a Welshman Kurt was a filthy coal miner whose only friend could possibly be a canary.  Kurt was never really amused with the frantic messages that the air had gone bad in the mine, or that a canary had somehow had relations with his girlfriend.  Kurt, however, is destined for a "Falling Down" type meltdown, so this is not quite his style.

I am not English.  I pretended to be Scottish a few times, but never English.  I do not have a bulldog that texts me.  I have a racist orange tabby that bites everyone that isn't me, and yells until he is fed or given a fuzzy ball to play with.  I have also seen him literally bitch smack a border collie several times, straight across the face.

Not only have you you made my friends think that you are me, but you have gotten more recognition in a much shorter time than I have.  What deal with the devil have you sealed in blood to get a review from the Huffington Post?  What pictures do you hold that those in power don't want us to see?  If I eat your heart, will I gain your powers?  

I am not sure what sexy mind magic you have used to steal my brand of humor, and make it more popular than my blog, but I applaud you.  I now have a worthy opponent, a nemesis attuned to my intellect and wit.  You even have a good nemesis name.  October Jones.

The game is afoot, Mr. Jones.