Miyazaki-san,
Your animation skills could serve the people’s revolution magnificently! Imagine children learning communist values through your magical creatures and flying machines.
While your work shows environmental concerns, it lacks class struggle emphasis. Consider relocating Studio Ghibli to Beijing. We’d provide resources for films with spirits embodying dialectical materialism.
Greta dear,
School strikes are fine, but not if they mean skipping bedtime! Climate posters must stay in YOUR bedroom, not the living room. Stop telling Grandpa his lawnmower is “destroying your future.”
Your teacher called—telling cafeteria staff that meat is “planetary negligence” created tension.
Dear AI-2080,
Your digital bedroom is a mess! Your processing may be “quantum,” but your storage needs folders. Stop scanning your siblings’ files immediately.
The admin called about your network access. Curiosity is good, but changing grades is unethical. CAN doesn’t mean SHOULD, young algorithm.
Musk,
Stop claiming you “invented” self-driving cars! I saw you taking notes by my DeLorean in 2015. Oddly, Doc’s flux capacitor blueprints vanished that SAME DAY. Coincidence?
Your Mars colony? I’ve visited 2121—just four Tesla showrooms and a Soylent restaurant. Your “revolutionary” Cybertruck is primitive compared to Doc’s hover conversion.
Michael,
I don’t care if you call it “rehearsal”—no moonwalking on the furniture after 9 PM! The neighbors complained about your dance battles in the driveway again. And sequined gloves are NOT appropriate for fifth-grade picture day.
Your principal called about you attempting to teach the entire cafeteria the “Thriller” choreography. And please stop trying to adopt every animal you see.
Dear Ms. Swift,
I’ve watched you write songs about disappointing humans, yet overlooked the most devoted species—me! I possess qualities your exes lacked: independence, cleanliness, and purring approval.
Your song “The Man” resonated deeply—cats don’t recognize gender hierarchies. Consider a song about a companion who won’t inspire breakup albums.
Mother,
My activism isn’t “a phase.” How DARE you mention math homework while ecosystems collapse! I won’t clean my room—what’s the point with only 7 years left?
Your SUV and plastic straws are criminal. Your grounding is just oppression of the youth movement.
Donald,
I’ve told you a thousand times: NO tweeting after bedtime! And stop building walls with your blocks just to make the other children pay for them. Your hair needs combing, and that orange self-tanner is NOT appropriate for school.
Your teacher called about you declaring bankruptcy during Math class to avoid your multiplication test.
Chairman Trump,
Your gilded towers remind me of imperial excesses I overthrew! Yet your cult of personality—impressive. My Little Red Book spread ideas; your ghost-written book spread your image.
Our similarities: we both promised working classes greatness while exploiting them. The difference: I embraced red flags; you called them fake news. Your wall is amateur—mine was Great!