|Dear Shelly Hwang and Young Lee,|
I would like to begin this correspondence by congratulating you on securing a new line of credit from American Express Open. I have been told that the American Express Plum Card you received, number 1170 of the initial 10,000, could really help with cash flow when you build new stores.
What an exciting time for you as entrepreneurs! Expanding a business can be an endeavor fraught with uncertainty, but I have no doubt that American Express will help facilitate this period of growth for Pinkberry.
My reason for writing this letter is that I feel I have been afforded an undesirable surplus of information regarding the credit status of your enterprise. I am perplexed by your need to inform me on a more-than-hourly basis about your American Express Plum Card and I fear that I may not be alone as a target of your, dare I say, unseemly braggadocio.
At a time when many average "Hop Along" Joes are struggling just to put bread in their baby's face, I feel that your blitzkrieg campaign to lord your flexible lines of business credit over our heads is not reflecting positively on your business. Believe me when I say that it is not jealousy that motivates this letter, but rather concern for your brand.
That said, I must admit a certain degree of personal involvement in your saga to secure credit from American Express Open. You see, I am also an entrepreneur and I also applied for an American Express Plum Card. Unfortunately for me, American Express Open did not deign to respond to my request for credit for Your Own Dick, Unlimited.
Shelly, Young, I hope you don't mind if I refer to you by your first names, but I am deeply disturbed by your superiority complex. You guys sell gourmet yogurt or something and I operate dollar booths throughout the Chicagoland area that will allow a man to create a wax reproduction of his own penis.That's my plan, anyway. Right now I just have one Your Own Dick booth, delighting friends and tourists. Delighting whole families. I can't grow my business because American Express Open turns out to be more like American Express Closed to Me and My Business.
Are we really so different? Do you really think you're better than me? At the end of the day it's the consumer, not you and not American Express Open, who dictate whether or not there is a demand for gourmet yogurt and whether or not there is a demand for a wax copy of your own dick.
I don't have access to your sales figures, but the consumer has spoken by demanding over 65 wax dicks in the last month alone. That is 23 dicks more than preceding month and 9 more than the month before that, although that was only a half month because I just set up the first booth at a train station.
Again, I am very happy that you have received a line of credit, I don't even mind being reminded now and then about this, but it seems like you are expecting me to do something. I get it. I know American Express Open judged your business so much better than mine. Even though my business has gone 22 days without a single report of a scalded urethra. Even though everyone at the Washington Heights Metra station is positively buzzing about the new orange wax I just bought.
Go ahead. Go ahead, Shelly and Young! You take your snooty yogurt bowls and your stupid little fruits. Take your flexible payment schedule on your credit card. I don't need them. I am an honest business person devoted to my craft.
While you are jet-setting around with big yogurt I am down in the trenches improving the quality and quantity of wax dicks I can offer Americans. Hardworking Craig Craftsmen Americans without some fancy-pantsed liberal elitist purple credit card.
Keep on bragging. Keep on telling me I can't compete. Keep it up, but one of these days you are going to want to put your yogurt in a hollow wax copy of your own dick and maybe I won't offer my help.
Who are you going to ask? Dick Copiers? A bum died in his booth last week. Der Wax Phallactory? Sure, if you want to be seen as helping the Hun.
I'm the only wax dicks game in town, so think about that the next time you want to act like you're so much better than me. You're not. You're just like me. We're no different. You and your celestial tricks aren't fooling anybody.
Hows about you, me, and five uncomfortable minutes in my basement apartment next to the dusty Christmas tree that's still up from my last visit with my estranged children.
The Upper Kitchen Cabinet Where Your Roommate Keeps His Food: You’ll 'need the footstool' to reach your roommate’s 'fine selection' of 'stale cereal,' but he'll never notice if 'only a little is missing from each box.' Feel less guilty by reminding yourself that Jeff 'acts weird around your girlfriend,' and always 'asks about her.' What a 'creep.'
This ain't your daddy's globe...! .... or is it?!
The Something Awful front page news tackles anything both off and on the Internet. Mostly "on" though, as we're all incredible nerds.