Sincerely Yours

Instead of explaining away my absence and asking for forgiveness- making promises I intend to keep but just as likely intend to ignore at my convenience in the process- I will simply get on with getting on.

The DR is a living breathing animal, a fat furry creature with unspecified numbers of arms, legs, and tails. Sometimes we hibernate for months in a dark cave. Sometimes we graze the wide plains, with no particular focus, and lazily affirm our jungle cred with a subtle yet swift riposte. And every so often we go on creative outbursts akin to an Alpha male lion who beats down a young lion challenger, eats a lunch of fresh cheetah caught and prepared by four female lions, then naps in the sun after sexing the hell out of all four said females. The point is, you never know when we might get hungry, so stay tuned in to channel DR.

Now that I've confused myself and my metaphors, let's get on to some letters I've been meaning to send.


Dear Ryan Howard,

I am a big fan of yours, have been since you were a mysterious phenomenon at various levels of minor league ball. When you got to the Bigs, finally, in 2005, and won Rookie of The Year, I was smitten. The next year you turned in a season for the ages, won the NL MVP, and crushed dingers and the Phillies records book with equal panache. You were suddenly a household name, a one-man event at the plate, reason enough to buy a ticket and watch the Phils play. You even went to Japan in the winter of 2006 and left thousands of small Japanese men and women with no doubt as to who the true baseball Godzirra was.

Last year you got fatter and took a couple months to start hitting, but when you did the results were similar: lots of home runs, lots of RBI's, lots and lots of strikeouts. This was acceptable, if not admirable considering your slow start and early injuries. I figured this year you'd be healthy, slimmer, and determined to avoid the embarrassing specter of setting the league record for K's again. Well Ryan, I'm a little worried about you. Are you becoming a Black Adam Dunn? Should I, a fan, lower my expectations for you and only expect massive home runs spliced infrequently between copious amounts of whiffs? No more singles, doubles, hard-earned walks, or even sac flies? Will there ever be a day when you come to bat and I don't assume a quick yet painful punch-out?

Listen, I'm sticking with you as long as I can. If Pat Burrell has taught us anything, and, in all fairness, The Bat he has taught us way more than one thing, it's that in baseball it's possible to suddenly forget how to play the game well. And not remember for years. So I will remain hopeful for now. But I beg of you to stop striking out, for the fans of Philadelphia, the millions of dorks whose fantasy teams you are hurting, and most of all, for the loyal people of Japan, who await the glorious return of Godzirra.
Sincerely Yours,
Chief Naka

Dear Kobe Bryant,

Time and age have dimmed my white-hot dislike of you only slightly, and news of you winning this years NBA MVP churned the bile in my stomach. I wanted to let you know that I'm not now and never have been fooled by your faux persona, the disingenuous smile, the transparency that drips like melting wax off your every public action, the desperate neediness that accompanies your fist pumps and dunk celebrations. Hating on your skills would only damage my credibility, and I give credit where credit is due. You are a great basketball player. Maybe you deserve the MVP too, though I'd argue that your team has the most talent and depth in the league, and thus would still be very competitive without you. This isn't about that. This is about you. I know who you are. And I don't like you. And I hope you lose.

Good Day Sir!,
CN

Dear Friends,

I know this is a bit late. About twenty years late. And my timing will lead many to ask, "is Chief Naka a frontrunner?", which is laughable and altogether dismissible in my mind, so on to the point. I love the Flyers and thoroughly enjoy hockey, yet don't have any friends who share this interest. Can you all do me a favor and watch some playoff hockey, learn to appreciate how dope the sport is, how badass the players are, and come to a place of acceptance so that next year, when the Flyers are in the playoffs I don't have to scurry around the city, alone, looking for a place to watch? Plus, I know to a man you all can appreciate a good playoff beard.
Sincerely Yours,

CN

Dear Wawa,

First you close on 20th and Locust. Body blow, ouch. Then you close at 20th and Chesnut. Sucker punch to the testicles, searing pain. Then you raise your coffee prices. Personally I don't care about that but for most of the adult world that's the equivalent of a body blow, a sucker punch to the testicles, and a bird crapping in your eye. I don't get it, I have never been inside a Wawa that had less than fifteen people in it, and yet stores are closing? Is there somebody embezzling millions of dollars from the company? It doesn't make sense. Do me a favor Wawa and stop closing your stores, it makes it harder for me to find surcharge free ATM's, take out money, and waste it in bars and pizza joints.

Sincerely Yours,
CN