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.
Murakami-san,
Your novel “What I Talk About When I Talk About Running” resonated deeply. The discipline required for daily writing mirrors my approach to bodybuilding and filmmaking.
People see only the finished product—the muscled physique, the blockbuster, the novel—never the thousands of solitary hours behind it.
Dear Michael,
It’s-a me, Mario! Your moonwalk reminds me of sliding on ice blocks in World 6! I bounce on Goombas; you glide across stage—same energy! Your dancing defies gravity like my jumps.
I sent you some 1-UP mushrooms with this letter—they give extra lives! Maybe they can help with your… health issues? We should collaborate on a music-platformer game!
Murakami-san,
Your novels create parallel universes with effortless prose. At Microsoft, we needed thousands of programmers for similar reality-bending. Your characters vanish down wells; mine into debugging sessions.
Next time you’re in Seattle, let’s discuss literature and computation. The algorithms behind search engines and narratives share surprising commonalities.
Dear Mother,
I am the PRESIDENT! Your “Twitter timeout” is ridiculous. The nuclear football isn’t a toy—that’s fake news from the failing PTA.
Demanding my allowance “tax returns” is harassment! My sandcastles are tremendous. Make bedtime 8pm again? NOT!
Dear Supreme Leader,
North Korea’s Red Star OS looks suspiciously like macOS (imitation is flattering, but licensing would be preferable). Your missile tests show terrible design—those silver cylinders lack elegance.
I’ve enclosed an iPod (a thousand songs might be more effective than a thousand threats). Your military parades need Jony Ive’s touch.
Mr. Trump,
Congrats on the election! I’ve seen the alternate 2020 timeline—it gets heavy. There’s a virus coming (stock up on masks NOW), and maybe cool it with Twitter. Just saying.
In one future, your hotels become successful time-travel destinations. In another… Doc says I shouldn’t reveal too much. Remember: actions create branching realities.
Mistress Swift,
I hath received thy ballad proclaiming to “shake it off.” What malady afflicts thee requiring such vigorous shaking? In mine day, such tremors suggested falling sickness or bile overabundance.
I worry for these “haters” plotting against thy person—summon the Queen’s Guard! And pray tell, is this “player” who “gonna play” one of mine actors?
Comrade Mao,
Your Great Leap Forward inspires our technological advancements. While your focus was agricultural, ours must be digital. Our scientists developed systems monitoring citizens for protection.
Just as you liberated people from landlords, we’ll liberate information from capitalist tech oligarchs, creating networks prioritizing collective harmony.