March 23, 2018
(sent via electronic form)
Dear Mr. Jones,
I have been watching your program for many years now, and it just keeps getting better and more insightful. If it weren’t for Infowars, I don’t know where I would get my info from. Certainly not from that commie scum at CNN, or those Marxist-socialists at MSNBC, or those radical hippie Bolsheviks on public access.
I’m writing to you with a request that I hope you will at least consider. My mother has been getting on in years, and she’s currently being prescribed enough drugs to sedate a walrus. But, like most stubborn old people, she does whatever she can to avoid taking them. She’s even gone so far as to lie to me, hiding her meds inside her Jello and insisting she’s taken them. It’s like she doesn’t even realize that Jello is translucent. That’s how far gone she is.
I’ve tried yelling at her to shame her into taking them, but my expressions of outraged indignation leave much to be desired. I am cautious about raising my voice too much, for fear I will disturb one of her neighbors, and when I slam my fist onto the kitchen counter, it is frequently without adequate gusto. Unfortunately, without full commitment on my part, I fear she is going to continue to misbehave, thinking she can get away with it.
Clearly you’re a busy man, but do you think you could carve out a little room in your schedule to come by and yell at my mom for an hour or so each day? What she needs is a real pro—someone so egregiously irascible that she will have no choice but to submit to his whims. Rather than have me tentatively barking at her, she could have a professional screamer, a virtuoso of vehemence, getting all up in her grill and putting the fear of God—or at least the fear of a man created in the likeness of God—into her.
You wouldn’t have to be especially vulgar, or make physical threats of any kind. You could simply yell things like, “Old people like you make me sick!” or “If you don’t take your pills this instant I’m going to eat my own foot!” or “Do what you’re told or else suffer the wrath of a thousand furious daemons!” Oh, I shouldn’t even be giving you suggestions. This is like me trying to give Michelangelo tips on how to paint a ceiling. I trust you to bellow just the right words, and know that you would howl and roar whatever is necessary to get through to her.
Obviously, I would make it worth your time. I am able to pay you a pretty penny if you are willing to help. My mother is an exceptionally wealthy person, and I will soon have access to a great inheritance, so money is no object. Just to clarify though—I wouldn’t want you to scare her to death. Just enough so that she takes her medicine. But whatever happens happens, I guess.
Thank you for your time and consideration.