An Open Letter to Whomever Gives A Shit…

Author’s Note: Within this letter, I switch between the first and third person almost interchangeably. At some point it stopped being a letter and just ended up being a narrative. I’m not writing this for grades or for fame, I’m writing it for conscience and clarity. Hopefully, if someone complains about the form of the letter, they eat a bullet. In my opinion, those who would criticize this letter’s form and grammatical inconsistencies are the same kinds of assholes that would belligerently proofread a suicide note. Fuck em.

Well, since I have always been the pariah of the family, I suppose that it will be no surprise when this letter garners a significant amount of negative attention from those who have yet another reason to bitch about me. Some of you will also feel you are unfairly represented. Whatever. I really couldn’t give any less of a shit. All I can say is that everything in this letter, is the truth as I see it. I have no need to embellish or lie, as the truth is simply fucked up enough without my having to make it more than it is.

In reality, I couldn’t really give two tugs of a dead dog’s cock about what any of you think of me. I’m only writing this to set the record straight. So, if it seems at any point that I’m trying to convince someone of something, disregard the notion. I am simply bereft of the feelings that would compel me to convince, so instead I’ll simply state the truth and it’s up to you to accept it or not. I have no illusions that this will be accepted. Quite simply, you can’t reason someone out of a belief to which reason didn’t bring them in the first place. So, I won’t endeavor to do so.

 Also, wherever the facts are non-existent, I resort to opinion, and will label my opinions, as such. In the event that things aren’t quite clear regarding chronology and speculation, then the fault is mine. However, I will tell you that if you have any trouble regarding understanding my opinions, then the fault is yours. What I have to say is plainly stated (if a bit long-winded), but at the end of the day again, you can either accept it or not.

First of all, I’d like to say that the following things in no way diminish the love I have for some of you. I simply realize that just because you love someone, doesn’t mean that they’re right for your life. I’m not going to be the smug motherfucker and say “I hope you get your shit straight”, but I am in no way in a position to suggest that someone is living their life in a shitty way. I don’t care how you live your lives. I wish I could insist on being left alone to live my own life, but this is apparently too much to ask for you guys. Fine. Given my checkered reputation, most of you will think I’m lying. I’m letting you know right off the bat that I don’t give a fuck. So, again. Think I’m lying, think I’m telling the truth. I don’t care either way. If you read this and realize that what I’m saying is the truth, good for you. If not, good for you. I’m unaffected either way. Fact is, after this letter, I won’t be speaking to most of you again. This is for the best.

I have been inundated by people telling me the things that have been said by my brother, my sister and various other people who view me as a completely dishonest and thieving asshole, something this side of crazy. Well, good for them. I can form nonsensical opinions based on bullshit too. The only difference is that if I did this, I wouldn’t be able to lie to myself that I can look in the mirror and be satisfied with what I see.

So, that being said, here we go.

I got a message from Mom something to the effect of, “I don’t know what we did to make you disappear from our lives. Your brother and your sister love you. [sic]” Fine. Well, the last time I came there, my brother acted like a condescending asshole, my sister wouldn’t condescend to see me, and my mother spent 90% of her time in front of me and my wife on her cell phone with her boyfriend. Forgive me if I am of the opinion that I am not enough of a priority to them. So, I don’t feel like I should raise them up in my priority scale. I could talk about how when I tried to kill myself in 2007, that my mother wrote me an email saying that there was a “special place in hell for the things I’ve done.” But, I think just hinting at this event is enough. Besides, I really don’t feel like I have it in me to attack my mother too much. The fact of the matter is, I have never really felt like I had a family who accepted me, and I really don’t need it. I have always been a pretty solitary person. When my family shifted their interest and focus to my brother and his athletic endeavors, I never begrudged him this, I simply adapted to become more truly myself. I could talk about the threat to sue me for the Nana Lumpkin video, which she was a part of, knowing full well what I planned on doing with it. But, the fact that the video is very hard to find on the internet anymore, I’ll let that go.

Regardless of your thoughts about that video, it was still funny.

The simple fact of the matter is, my mother and I, once I approached the age of reason, were never again very close. While she is my mother, and I love her dearly, I realize that she views me through a prism that is very different from the prism that she views the rest of the family with. There’s them and me. That’s it. I’m not denying her love for me, but I am questioning the double standards that exist which make me this black sheep of the family, and my brother and sister are the model children. Again, I don’t really care too much. If anything it’s more amusing than hurtful.

I also have the sneaking suspicion that when the “Let’s Bitch About Johnny” round tables happen, my mother doesn’t correct whatever misconceptions about me are thrown around. To be fair, we don’t know each other well enough for her to defend me. Oh well.

Again, I love my mother. She’s just not terribly important to me anymore.

Regarding my sister, Barb, I wish I had anything to say that was in the vicinity of relevant. The fact is, I don’t know that chick. She’s someone that I shared space and a distant past with. That’s pretty much it. Why she continues to harbor this animosity towards me is a source of amusement to me. For example, according to sources, I was responsible for taking shit from her house when I visited New Jersey in 2011. Flat screens, electronics, money, yeah it was all open season to me in the mere 30 minutes I spent there. Which, by the way she left the house mere minutes before I arrived, despite knowing that morning that I would be there. Maybe this is coincidental and she had plans prior to my arrival (and to be fair, I sprung my visit on everyone) but I don’t really believe in coincidence. Given that my car was as packed as a mid sized sedan could possibly get, the allegations (that came from 4 separate people) that I stole from her are false. I literally couldn’t fit anything else in that car, let alone all the things that I am accused of stealing. Not to mention that when my wife left my mother and I alone to use the bathroom, that it was said that she stole the rest of the shit that I couldn’t. You know, just to make a clean sweep of whatever I couldn’t fit in my arms.


Whatever. She can no more stand my company than I can stand hers. From her perspective I’m some kind of asshole trying to pull one over on everyone, and from my perspective she’s a jaded little moron with delusions of standing in a shit-town with an inflated sense of ego.

The fact that she can’t stop complaining about me is proof of what a small minded little ferret she has become. I remember when I used to respect her. These days it’s more of a fond memory, like the faint remembrances of the almost forgotten glory of a better generation. It’s what I imagine seniors over 60 remember of their childhood.

The majority of my ire is reserved for my brother, Jason. The imagined victim of a “sex scandal” my brother hides behind a mask of a religion which boasts, “judge not lest ye judge yourself”, yet can’t stop judging everyone with every single breath that leaves his lungs. I wrote him an email which I will recount here in its entirety just for the sake of not having to retype everything.


This letter will reach you after I have visited our father for what I probably would guess would be the last time. [Edit: I never got a chance to visit my Dad. Apparently, there was a massive outbreak of (insert bullshit virus here). So I’ll catch him the next time I roll through New Jersey.]Hopefully, I will have another chance to see him before he passes, although if the surgery he had is any indication, it’s part of the downhill slope. C’est la vive. It was not given to you prior to that visit, on the off chance that I ran into you while I was visiting. I wanted to have an enjoyable time in my home state, and not be bogged down with family nonsense and blame shifting. Besides, I have enough of a police record as it is.

I originally wrote part of a letter to you that was essentially an entire diatribe unloading all the bullshit about our family into your face, seeing as you so “hesitantly” did the same thing to Chastity. It was not a pleasant letter because I was overcome with anger and rage. This letter will be softer, though I don’t feel I owe you softer words. You certainly didn’t spare the cruelty when you wrote to Chastity detailing me “abandoning” you, nor did you spare the barbed comments when talking to friends and the family about me. I don’t need to be brutal in how I word things, because the reality is, the truth contained in this letter is horrid enough without my constant cursing, anger and vituperation. On a side note, I’m a little sick of various friends of yours coming to me about the shit you’ve been talking about me and Chastity. Talking about me, I can deal with. But, when you literally start fucking with someone who has only really tried to be a sister to you, that’s fuckin’ low dude.

Feel free to delete this email if you like. After I’m finished writing this, I plan on having a drink, knowing I’ve exorcized my demons concerning you. I’m writing this for me, not you. Given the fact that you cannot reason someone out of a belief to which reason didn’t bring them in the first place, I’m not going to try. Read it, or don’t read it. I don’t really give too much of a shit which you do.

And here’s the thing. I doubt you’ll believe this, because this letter is evidence of the contrary, but I really don’t care about your constant shit talking about me. I really don’t. What bothers me is that in this latest thing you wrote to Chastity, it brought up a question that is constant with me whenever I hear about things you say.

I am always plagued with the question of “why?”

Why do you constantly shift the blame to everyone else when you contemplate how your life has unfolded? Why do you say the things you say? On one hand, maybe you truly believe the mindless tripe you’re spewing. On the other hand, maybe you just say these things in an effort to try and make yourself feel better about half a life wasted, only just recently grasped. I’d like to think that one of these are better than the other. But, the reality is the first is delusional, and the other is just self-serving and pathetic.

Regardless of which is true, this question is actually a useless question. Knowing the mechanics of a bomb does not justify the damage it did when it exploded.

I want you to understand something right now.

I have no sympathy about the way your life has unfolded. None whatsoever. You are where you are due to the path you’ve walked. The path you walked is the REACTION to the things you’ve experienced, not a result of the things themselves. You’re not the victim. You’re not a victim in any sense whatsoever. Before you met Caren, you’ve lived the life of a fool, and eventually you came to a fool’s end. When you met her, it was YOU (and her) not your imaginary god friend who pulled you out of your bullshit. It’s only when you decided to take accountability for your bullshit decisions that you became stronger and got your shit together.

Everyone goes through it. I went through it, you went through it, and Dad went through it. The difference is that you’re still blaming everyone else but the man staring back at you in the mirror. You use your Christianity as a catalyst to condescend to everyone who lives their life in a different fashion than you do, and to escape that sneaking suspicion that I know you have that maybe, just maybe, YOU are the architect of your misfortune.

Go ahead and blame me for “abandoning” you. If you knew what actually happened, you wouldn’t change your opinion anyway because to do so would deprive you of the attention of being the victim. On one hand, I don’t blame you. You’ve worked VERY hard to cultivate the image of life beating you down. “The consummate underdog”. Life sucks. Making your own sense of the chaos is all that matters. What you may NOT do, “brother”, is blame your bullshit decisions on the fact that I left home ultimately to live my fucking life. You don’t have permission to use my decisions as the basis for excusing your failures, just as I can’t use my childhood to excuse mine. You may have the rest of the family snowed with that line of bullshit, but given the fact that I used to be a pretty good liar, there’s no way you can fool me. My bullshit detector is so much better than the capacity that you possess to try and deceive it.

See how I just casually admitted to a specific fault, and not repeating “nobody’s perfect”? It’s called self-reflection and self-honesty. This is something that must scare you. I could explain WHY I became that way, and the reason that I stopped, but you would neither believe nor care because it doesn’t cater to the masochistic and self-indulgent world-view that you can’t look beyond. I now have a woman who knows EVERYTHING about me.

EVERYTHING. The horrible, the mediocre and the sublime. She knows it all. I have no need to lie to someone who accepts my worst traits in line with my best. The rest of the world can either accept me or not, I really couldn’t give two tugs of a dead dog’s cock.

This includes you.

This includes you because rather than say this shit to ME, you went and wrote a page and a half diatribe of which 30% of it was about me, while at the same time kissing my wife’s ass. Again, this is not something that bothers me, so much as it saddens me to have it proven again what a duplicitous weasel you are. It is exactly what I expect from you.

Everyone has their own way of dealing with me. Barbie is apathetic regarding my existence, which suits me just fine. She can’t stand my company any more than I can stand hers, so our current situation is ideal for both of us. You deal with me, and life in general by playing the victim. You cut off the only real formal line of communication between us and then have the fucking balls to say that you “respect [my] position with not wanting [you] in [my] life” (pronouns changed for clarity) when NONE of you have ever even so much as hinted that you wanted to KNOW my position. As I’m sure you took much relish in saying to Chastity, “you deleted me.”

You. Deleted. Me.

You have absolutely NO cause for complaint. You are lamenting a series of events that YOU set into motion.

Barbie and I never spoke when we did have that line of communication, and seeing as I was hearing a bunch of shit that she was saying, I didn’t feel I needed to carry on the charade of “family unity” by giving her access to my published thoughts on Facebook.

(On a sidenote, isn’t it funny how Facebook has become somewhat of a cultural litmus test for some people? Don’t call me for 6 months and well, whatever. But delete me off of Facebook and oh motherfuck no… Not you specifically, it’s just a sad thing when an impersonal media like Facebook replaces face to face and phone communication. Just musing…)

I realize that sometimes I post some risqué and tawdry shit, but the reason that you gave Chastity seemed like a shitty reason to remove your brother from a formal line of communication. Nothing of what I wrote was aimed at you. NOTHING. If you felt that I was pointing at you, maybe because it was that some of what I said hit a kernel of truth within you. Given the fact that you elected not to know what was happening in my life because you were unable to control your emotional response to shit I published on Facebook doesn’t make me angry, in fact it amuses me. Funny thing is, just around the time you deleted me off of Facebook, my website’s New Jersey traffic tripled. Could be a coincidence, but experience has deprived me of the fantasy of coincidence.

To be fair, had you said that some of what I wrote offended you, I would have responded with a variation of “I’m waiting to hear what your point is.” Had you pressed it further I would have absolutely told you to “go take a running fuck and delete me if you feel that bad about it.” You deleting me only bothered me in the peripheral sense of being a nail in the coffin of an already tenuous and ephemeral relationship. In the simplest terms, you reacted in the most predictable way, in the way that was most natural to you, and blamed your reaction on me. What is really funny is that if you were seriously offended by what was posted, you could have EASILY hid me from your news feed. It literally takes two clicks.

Luckily, I have broad shoulders. I can shoulder this burden. I have heard that it sometimes takes hours, sometimes even minutes, to get over it.

The biggest thing that bothered me, was the overall smug and self-righteous tone of your communication with Chastity and my wife. If truly being a Christian should have taught you anything, it really should have taught you some fucking humility. Where in the hell do you get off telling someone that when they get older they’ll understand things? That’s some fucked up, repugnant bullshit, dude. “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone,” remember. It was the same as I learned in Sunday School, for all the good it did. Personally, I think that precept is complete and utter bullshit, but then again as a Christian, these are YOUR rules, not mine. Please have the courtesy to follow them.

You did the same thing when I visited Aunt Lori. You started talking about how you’re doing the right things now as a Christian, along with some backhanded comments about my lack of belief. And what did you do after saying that you were on the straight and narrow? You smoked a joint when if you had been piss-tested by your work, you would have lost your job. You proclaimed to my wife and Aunt Lori that you were doing the right things then put your family’s livelihood at risk. Don’t get me wrong, drugs are awesome and the fact that you dig weed just says that we have shit in common. Congratulations, your shameless hypocrisy is at least consistent. I suppose doing the right thing is a precept that applies to everyone else but you, huh?

I have made some fucked up decisions in my life. I might even go so far as to say that I’ve made more than you. Who can tell? I’m sure you guys are keeping score because any time my faults are discussed, you fuckers have a laundry list of shit to pull from. Good. I’m proud of my bad decisions. They paved the way for my great ones. The difference between the two of us is I own my failures. I realize that my failures in life are MY fault. My hardships in life are MY fault. I created the path of my own misery by the day to day decisions that I make. How about you? Can you look in the mirror and admit your failings, knowing that they spawned from the array of your own choices? You have a great job, with a wonderful woman (I would imagine, she seems nice) and with children. God did not give you these things. They came to you partially by chance, and partially by your effort to bring about change in your life. Your tendency to misplace the credit to all your successes and failings, and give both the credit and blame to someone else is the thing I find most maddening about you.

Michelle leaving me? Mostly my fault. The fact that I never got to say good bye to Feather? Completely my fault. The myriad problems were of my own design, because of the things I have done and the things I have failed to do. The blame is on ME. Getting married to Donna? My success. I found her, I claimed her. It’s actually more accurate to say that she claimed me. My daughter? My success. My miracle child that shouldn’t have been. The blame and credit is where it always should have been.

You say that I was never there for you. Fine. I didn’t realize my brother needed his hand held throughout his life. You never asked for my help and you never gave an inkling that this was the case until I moved in with Michelle at the house when it belonged to Mom. And even then, what did you expect me to do? Put my life on hold because my brother felt he got the shitty end of the stick during his childhood? Fuck that noise. Given the fact that when you started playing football, every single ounce of attention and adoration was focused on YOU, I don’t think you have too many causes for complaints, though I’m sure you’ll find a few. Still, I never begrudged you this. I went through my period of adjustment and in the end, simply accepted it.

The family was broken FAR before I left. It wasn’t your responsibility to “pick up the pieces”, nor was it mine. When the going got tough, I left you? Funny how I wasn’t given a choice. And I like how you think you have some kind of authority to judge ANYONE. I worked at Patriot, felt like It was a shit job and could have gotten something else better (which I did the same day I left) and when Mom found out she kicked me out. She actually told me to get my shit and get out when I was at band practice. So spare me your fucking histrionics about how I left you. I was dropped like a fucking rock and moved on. Still, I don’t begrudge her this either. She reacted in the only way acceptable to her. In her perspective I was behaving in a reckless and irresponsible way and she wanted me out, no big deal. I moved on.

I could go through a bunch of shit you said and offer my rebuttals, but you’re not even giving them the chance to be rationally heard, are you? I can see you, in front of whatever device you’re reading this with, face red with emotion and possibly crying. I can see you blinded with emotion, unable to accept the clear, brutal fact that when all is said and done, you have no more claim to the right path than anyone else in this world. You are not the beginning, nor are you the end. There is no Heaven, nor Hell and even if there were, something tells me that for your “sins”, you’d be stuck next to me in Hell. We’re all stumbling through this nonsense, blind and unable to see past the choices we don’t understand.

I’m a bastard and an asshole. I do what I want, because I don’t want to die knowing that I passed up on any valuable experiences. I don’t hide behind a mask of goodness, because I’m not a good person. I’m selfish and arrogant, slightly narcissistic and egotistical. What’s your excuse?

The email you wrote Chasity is the latest in a long series of things I have been made aware of that you have said about me. It was the trigger, if you will, that made me realize how far out of reach you’ve fallen from whatever integrity you may have had.

Remember when I visited to get away from Hurricane Ivan? I went to your football game, had a great time and on the way back you started talking about the Traci Tapp thing. You said to me, “Who gives a fuck dude? I got my pumps in.” Do you remember that? When I think of you, THIS is the thought that enters my mind. From this I’m sure you can gather what I think about that particular issue in its entirety. At that precise second, I knew that everything you had told me about the issue was a smoke screen for the fact that it was all over being butthurt because someone dumped you. Again, this is my opinion. Every piece of information I have gathered about this issue does nothing to sway that opinion.

No one is innocent. No one is blameless. No one can escape the undeniable fact that they alone determine the course of their lives. Either realize it or keep living in this bullshit echo chamber you’ve constructed for yourself which tells you that you’re right, and everyone else is wrong. Do you honestly think that you’re the only person in this family that had a shitty childhood? I could tell you tales that would “freeze thy young blood, harrow up thy soul and make thy civil hairs stand on end, like quills upon the fretful porpentine” but, I did something different. I owned it. I let it make me stronger. I didn’t blame some scapegoat for my failings and the shitty hand I was dealt. And not once, not fucking ONCE, have I ever uttered a spiteful word or a disparaging remark blaming you for anything that happened in my life, though if I used your logic, I could just as much blame you for my failings as you can blame me for yours. Of all those points, I wish the same could be said for you.

You didn’t want me to help you fight the good fight, you wanted someone to tell you that you weren’t alone. Guess what? You are. We all are. In the end, you die in your own arms. And even if I wasn’t kicked out, I probably wouldn’t have stuck around anyway, because I’m not going to let my life be determined by someone else, nor am I going to allow circumstance to dictate my life. I’m not sorry that I didn’t put my life on hold. I made my choices and I made my life what I wanted it to be and I will NOT fucking apologize to you or anyone else for the decisions I’ve made. The only reason I pointed out faults in YOUR decisions is because you felt the need to poke your nose into my business with a fucking arrogant and cavalier attitude and aplomb.

How very Christian. How very thoughtful.

So here’s the deal. You are *NOT* my brother. I don’t know you. Nor do I have any intention of knowing you. I’ve never known you anyway. I wish I could chalk this entire thing, and all the events that preceded it, up to good old fashioned family tension, normal to a bunch of strong-willed people. It’s not. It’s opportunistic escapism at it’s worst. It’s you thinking of anything possible to shift the blame for shit onto someone else. I take my blame alone. I’ve told my share of lies, I’ve done my share of stupid shit and things that I’m not proud of. That’s called life. 99% of the shit that’s happened in my life? All me.

I don’t want to know you, or anything about you. I don’t want to know about your kids, your family or your personal life. Nothing personal, but the fact remains that I don’t have room in my life for someone who falsely insists that I’m the cause of a goodly portion of their woes.

Since I know that the family can’t keep out of affairs that are none of their business, I want you to know that if anyone contacts me about this letter, they can consider themselves gone from my life as well. I don’t have time for anything but my pursuits, my obsessions, my family and friends. You don’t fit any of these categories any longer. Just because you’re blood doesn’t mean you’re family. Family is a title you earn, and you don’t earn it by talking shit. We’re not family. We share common parents. That’s about it.

This is not something that will change in the next 5, 10 or 20 years. This is a permanent thing. I will not contact you for any reason, nor will I say anything about you to anyone, as I have always done. Be sure you extend me the same courtesy. Don’t worry about keeping me up to date on Dad’s condition, I’m capable of keeping tabs on him myself.

When I was in Jersey visiting with my wife, you said that I should write my story. I suppose this is part of the chapter that pertains to you. I want you to consider that this version of the letter, is the soft, and tame version.

I wish you a long, happy life. I really, really do, in spite of everything said and every animosity between us. Just because this is the case doesn’t mean you are good for my life, or that I am suitable for yours. Maybe some day way in the future, I’ll look back on this and wish that this part of my story ended differently. Should that be the case, I’ll read it, remember why the story ended this way and carry on with my life. I encourage you to do the same.

There it is. My brother’s issue is now done. I don’t really think anything else needs to be said about them. So I won’t. It should also surprise no one that my deletion from Facebook coincided with my desperate attempt to ask my brother for money to help fix my car. Instead of an answer, I got deleted. Perhaps one has nothing to do with the other, but again, I don’t have the luxury of coincidence.

My father and I have a sordid history, but rather than bringing up old shit that has nothing to do with anything, I’m just going to say that I miss him and look forward to seeing him the next time I come to New Jersey.

Families have bad shit, some more than others. It seems like my family has more skeletons than one could possibly expose in one lifetime. One thing left to say regarding the unsung member of this family, Chastity. Chastity and I have a lot in common. Interestingly enough, the majority of the things you assert about her, I know for a fact to be false. Do you honestly think that just because I’m a distance away that I don’t hear the shit you guys say, not only about me but her as well? Also, let’s clear the air about how Chastity was conceived. She was the product of 2 people getting together while Mom and Dad were separated. So stop pretending like it was Chastity’s fault that life got so screwed up for you fuckers. It’s not Dad’s fault, it’s not Mom’s fault, it’s not Celeste’s fault, and it’s sure as fuck not Chastity’s fault. Grow the fuck up. The affair was not illicit, nor was it in violation of ANYTHING. Mom and Dad weren’t together, Celeste and Dad, for a time, were. Being butt-hurt about something that has NOTHING to do with you is retarded.

Here’s the thing. You guys can accept her, or you cannot accept her. I do. I absolutely accept her. In the short time we’ve interacted, I consider her more of a sibling than either of you. In short, Chastity is my family. You are not.

Oh, and for those who send me letters telling me that my father has died, then assert that it’s Chastity that was responsible, please at least blame someone other than the only person who DOESN’T gain anything from doing so. The fact that you think that your efforts to fuck with people are actually effective, is hilarious. I don’t know who did it (though I have my suspicions) and I don’t give too much of a shit to know who did. What I do know is that from this point on, you need to just find something else to do to amuse yourself.

So here’s the deal, I don’t ever want to hear from any of you anymore. I’m absolutely done with all of you. If you’ve talked shit about me, you’re gone. Period. I have no more to say about any of you, and I expect to be left alone. I have the family that I want in my life, I have no room for those who insist on keeping the “family” title but talk shit about me behind my back. It’s fucking pathetic and I’m absolutely finished. I find that the less I have you in my life, the more streamlined and stess-free my life becomes. Just because you’re blood, doesn’t make you family. You earn that, and truth be told, I’ve found more family among friends than I ever did with the one I was born into. There are certain members of this family to which this doesn’t apply, so I’ll just leave it at that.

You guys have no interest in me aside from whatever thrill you get from talking shit about someone.

You guys have no interest in my daughter, and the only person who commented to me at all about her was Jay… 2 years after she was born, to congratulate me on my “new bundle of joy”. When she was born, NO ONE from this family called, wrote, emailed, smoke-signaled or anything to congratulate me or Donna. When grandchildren and nieces are discussed publicly, my daughter is excluded. On one hand it’s something that I’m sure bothers people, on the other I’m grateful that my daughter is as excluded from the family as I am. You know, “sins of the father” and all…

You guys have no interest in my wife, which suits me just fine, because she is better than every single last one of you. Which is why I married her.

You have no interest in Chastity unless you have need of a punching bag, when again she is better than every single last one of you, which sometimes includes me. Which is why she’s my sister.

Thusly, don’t contact me.

Don’t talk about me, because I’ll hear about it.

If any of you decide to attack Chastity because of this letter, you may think you’re getting even. All you’re really getting is my attention. Keep in mind that I have held back a considerable amount of information from seeing the light of day in this letter. I’m sure there are things that could be said about me, but truth be told, I already have the reputation of being a complete asshole, all you’d be doing by “exposing my misdeeds” is helping me.

If any of you reading this have an issue with the things presented in this letter, than you can feel free to delete me off of Facebook, Twitter, phone and wherever we have an avenue of communication.

Oh, and stop asserting that I want a threeway with my wife and Chastity, that’s just fuckin’ sick. Stay with your apathetic little lives, and I’ll be here enjoying mine.I know that the majority of this letter has been nothing but verbose yelling and posturing, but the fact is that just because none of you are right for my life, doesn’t mean I don’t love you guys. I absolutely do. It’s just time for us to go our separate ways and to stop talking shit. I’ve already tried to do this, but some of you insist on running your mouths despite the fact that outside the little “family shit talking circle jerk” no one gives a fuck. .

I’m made my share of mistakes. I used to lie. I used to make up stories so that my family and friends would pay attention to me. I learned this behavior from you guys. I’ve also made mistakes regarding who I allowed into my life. With this letter, I’m correcting a fucking BIG portion of mine.



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