To My Face,

Face, you are 26 years old, don’t you think it’s about time you quit acting so juvenile and finally stop with the acne already? It’s time to grow up and act your age. Despite what you may believe, acne doesn’t make you look younger. Moreover, you’re only 26; you don’t need to look younger. At this point you should look smooth and adult. Your insistence on continuingly developing new zits only serves to annoy the rest of the body. Consequently, I am formally asking you to immediately cease and desist the following three activities.

1. Overproduction of oil, especially in the areas around the nose, temples and hair line.
2. Formation of new zits on a semi-daily basis.
3. Growing facial hair so fast (just a favor to me as I detest shaving).

If you refuse to discontinue these activities, I will be forced to action buy purchasing expensive exfoliating face washes then proceeding to scrub the living hell out of you causing you much agitation. After which I will apply aftershave, rubbing alcohol or any other disinfectant that will dry you out completely. This is your final warning.

That will be all,
Johnny Rockstar

Posted by Johnny Rockstar at 11:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Kroger Grocery Store in Batesville:

I am writing to inform you that I don’t like you. I don’t like the way you are laid out, I don’t like your poor selection, I don’t like your funky smell and most of all, I can’t stand the way nobody who works at your store can grasp the concept that I neither have nor want a Kroger card. I only stop at Kroger when I’m on my way home and realize I need milk or mustard. Otherwise, I stay as far away from your stinky store as possible, so it just isn’t worth my time or the valuable space on my keychain for the little plastic card. However, it seems to dumbfound your employees when they ask for my Kroger card and I say I don’t have one. They then ask for my phone number so they can use that instead of swiping my card so I must repeat myself that I do not have a Kroger card and no, I don’t have a phone number of a friend who does and no, I do not want to sign up for one. After the cashier is done looking down on me for my obvious inferiority, he or she usually punches in their own phone number. I’m sure this action is against the rules, but I don’t really care since I get a little discount and the cashier gets points toward a free set of dinnerware or whatever it is they’re trying to win, everybody is a winner. Except me, because I see every trip to your stench-ridden store as a small defeat in my quest to not go into places that make me want to vomit.

Posted by Johnny Rockstar at 08:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

To The Bassist In The Crappy Warm Up Band:

Let me be blunt; your band sucks harder than an atomic powered super-sized vacuum cleaner. Ignoring the fact your performance resembled a bunch of epileptic monkeys, not to mention the fact that real epileptic monkeys probably hold more entertainment value than your dismal performance did, please allow me to offer this one piece of constructive criticism. I don’t think I’m alone in my belief that it is not cool to spit a massive loogie into the air and catch it in your mouth. It’s actually quite disgusting and the fact that you, the bassist, the guy who’s rightful place is near the back, move to the front of the stage to do it, makes the act all the more revolting. You are obviously under the mistaken impression that catching loogies is the in thing to do. Maybe you think all the cool kids are doing it. You are wrong. Maybe if your act didn’t gross people out, you would have more fans. Think about it.

Good luck,
Johnny

Posted by Johnny Rockstar at 08:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Dear Hollywood,

On behalf of moviegoers everywhere, please stop letting Uwe Boll make shitty movies. Every movie Uwe Boll is involved in turns to shit and he shouldn’t be allowed to enter a theater, much less a production set. His penchant for taking mediocre video games and turning them into awful movies makes me want to gouge out my eyes with a spoon, then disinfect the empty sockets with gasoline. The only thing more revolting than his terrible movies is his earnest belief that they are actually good. Come on, who really believes it’s a good idea to splice actual video game footage into a movie? I mean, what the hell is that about? I know the game-to-movie genre will never contain “great” movies, but does it have to contain Boll’s craptacular monstrosities? (Hint: The answer is no) I noticed that he has several game-to-movie adaptations scheduled for the near future; if you could perhaps make him “disappear” before they start filming, that would be great. Also, if it’s not too much trouble, maybe you could destroy every copy of every film he’s ever been involved with. I would be more than happy to help with that. I’ve heard lab rats forced to watch his movies actually developed eye cancer.

Thank you,
Movie Goers Everywhere
AKA Johnny Rockstar

Posted by Johnny Rockstar at 08:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (19)

Dear Khaki Pants,

Hello Khaki Pants, how are you? Good I hope. I’m writing to ask, are you happy? I treat you well don’t I? I wash you often, I use fabric softener to keep you static free and fold you neatly so you don’t wrinkle. So why then, Khaki Pants, do you constantly pitch a huge tent every time I sit down? Are you trying to embarrass me? What did I do to deserve this insubordination? I treat my Jean Pants with reckless abandon, leaving them in crumpled piles next to my dresser and they don’t pitch massive tents. So why do you? What gives? I feel it necessary to inform you that if this doesn’t stop, I will burn you with an iron and buy a pair of nice black slacks.

Regards,
Johnny

P.S.
I hate you.

Posted by Johnny Rockstar at 01:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)