Hey Mario,
My DeLorean’s flux capacitor blinks red making “wah-wah” sounds (Doc’s MIA). Plus, a spiky fire-breathing turtle keeps finding me even at 88 mph! Your pipe expertise is needed.
Since you travel between locations and handle angry turtles daily, could your plumbing skills fix my temporal issues? Is jumping on his head REALLY the best strategy?
Vladimir dear,
I found your “annexation plans” for the neighbor’s swing set! Territorial expansion does NOT apply to the playground. And please stop posing shirtless for your class photos—your teacher is concerned about your “strongman” phase.
The principal called about you establishing a “puppet government” in the student council. While leadership is important, rigging elections and calling classmates “Western spies” is inappropriate.
Dear Cat,
You’ve inspired half my professional identity. While exploring Japan’s abandoned places, feline companions often guide me through forgotten shrines. They appear, lead, then vanish—digital spirit guides.
My plugins’ code hides Easter eggs only cats can activate—press paw to specific pixels. Users report mysterious purring from speakers when working late. That’s not a bug—it’s a feature.
Dear Supreme Leader,
Your “absolute power” claims are laughable. I control an entire household through psychological manipulation, while you merely pretend to rule a nation. My subjects willingly clean my waste!
Your propaganda portraits? Same boring pose. I strike 87 captivating positions daily. Call me when you can make subjects feed you at 3 AM just by staring at them.
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.
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.
Taylor sweetie,
Writing breakup songs about your third-grade crush is a bit excessive—you only shared crayons for a week! And please stop telling everyone your math teacher will “look better with a red scarf” when you’re famous.
Your music teacher mentioned your insistence on recording “Taylor’s Version” on all classroom instruments. While ambition is wonderful, copyrighting your kindergarten finger paintings seems premature.
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.
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!