A Letter From Philedelphia Cream Cheese:

Note from Editor: Please read THIS before continuing.

Dear Mr. Tiller,

First and foremost, we'd like to thank you for your continued patronage and support of our product. It positively warms our cheese filled hearts to know that we contribute even an ounce (or 20!) of happiness to you and your family. Did you know that healthy living is 90% happiness and 10% nutrition and exercise*? Or that Philadelphi Cream Cheese, with its smooth, rich taste can contribute to that happiness up to 65%*? So damn the torpedoes Joe! The crestor won't help you with happiness! If we may put on our own white coats here, I'd recommend doubling your daily intake.

Now, about these letters we've been receiving. As you can see, we're most pleased that you enjoy our products. In fact, sales in central Indiana have never been stronger. We're all for the occasional pat on the back here at PCC, but this has gotten out of hand. It started casually enough, a simple letter stating how much you've enjoyed our product, but recently you've sent some pictures that are...shall we say...a tad over the top. In fact, we've been getting pictures of you "posing" with our product for exactly 124 days running. We've tolerated the anecdotes about your former player's nicknames, and what - exactly - they do with their male members. And, as I stated before, we've received the pictures. Your last letter contained this picture:


Now you see, this is where we, as a company, must draw the line. If you would like to send a picture of you and your family enjoying Cream Cheese, by all means...ah...wait a second. You'd better not send that either. In fact, don't send us another letter. Just go ahead and fill up your bathtub with our product, go under, and never ever come up you CLOGGED TUB OF PROCESSED LARD.

DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG YOU'VE MADE MY LIFE A FUCKING NIGHTMARE? I HAVE AN IVY LEAGUE EDUCATION! I AM NOT HERE TO RESPOND TO YOUR NEAR DAILY LETTERS!

FUCK!

I JUST...

FUCK!

I HATE THIS, I HATE THIS, I HATE THIS. Hang on. Let me pull it together. It started out cool man - Joe Tiller just wrote me a letter. Me! Of all people! You must have taken my kind response - hand signed and written, mind you - as a little sign from above to just keep going. And you just kept going. Kept writing letters. Kept sending disgusting pictures. WELL I'M THE FUCK OVER IT. And I'm SCARED!

I'm scared to death of your retirement. You see, I was a college football fan. Dare I say, I was even a Penn State fan - meaning I was a fan of your OWN DAMN CONFERENCE. The operative word here is "was." You see, now I look forward to those glorious 4 months in the fall because you STOP WRITING. I can't STAND to watch football anymore, because all I see is your warm pudgy body covered in cheese. You've ruined it man, you've ruined me.

And now what? After this season, it could be all Philedelphia Cream Cheese, all the time. I shudder to think of the scenarios you can film yourself in involving our product with all your attention devoted to it. I'm starting to twitch. My therapist says I need to relax, but I can't because EVERY SINGLE FUCKING DAY I SEE YOUR GAWDDAMN NAME IN MY MAILBOX.

I'm trying to hold it together man, I'm trying. But please, STOP WRITING ME before I have to end it all in the giant Cheese Processing machine right outside my office window. I'll jump man. Don't think it hasn't crossed my mind.

Sincerely,

The Philadelphia Cream Cheese Company

* Statistics researched at the Philadelphia Cream Cheese institute, which isn't even science. Not at all. All it is is a vain hope that if you eat more Cream Cheese, you will eventually DIE YOU FAT BASTARD.


(Terrorist Fist Jab - BHGP)