Dear Mizz Dowt...

Sorry if I got yer name wrong. I wuznt sure if it was Morein Dowt, Maureen Dowd, Mizz Dowt, Mizzd Owt or Misses Dowt.

Anyway, ah ain't much fur books, so I ain't red yore book, "Are Men Necessary: When Sexes Collide." But I dun read yer exerpt, "What's A Modern Girl To Do?", in the New York Times.

And, well...ah luv you gurl. And now ah know you luv me, two.

We are sole mates.

Just lack ah bin wronged by wymen, you bin wronged by men. Men should fuckus on whut madders, knot on superfishal stuff.

Lack you say: Men want purty young things. Men want womyn de-voted to them, who don't intidimate them or be smarter than them.

It ain't raht and it ain't fare. Ah understaind eggsacly what you mean. Because whimin have discrinimated aginst me, too.

But ah no you won't due that, Mo.

Ah no yewll luv me fur who ah aim. You won't care ah ain't got no edgeoccasion. You won't care ah ain't good-lookin'. You won't care that ah cant reapreduce. You won't care ah ain't got know money. You won't care ah ain't got no kreer. Cuz you no bedder. You ain't a slave to eveillusion.

After all, ah ain't never even herd of the felllows you dated: Aaron Sorkin, John Tierney and Howwell Rains.

Sew pleas call me soon, Mo. Ah ain't got much time, cuz ahm 86 and dine of AIDS. (Of coarse, yuh dont have to, but ahd be honerred if you'd take my name).

Luv,
Adolf Dahmer