O hai New Jersey! You are officially my least favorite state, even worse than Alabama. In your honor I have created some new slogans for your state because your current slogan, “New Jersey, come see for yourself”, has simply convinced me that by coming to New Jersey to see for myself, I have witnessed how hard it both blows and sucks simultaneously.

-New Jersey, you have to drive through us

-New Jersey, way crappier than old Jersey

-Come to New Jersey if you don’t want to turn left ever again

-New Jersey, we don’t care for road signs, except ones that say you can’t turn left

-I’m in New Jersey, and I can taste the air

-Hell is New Jersey

-New Jersey, come for the outlet malls, stay because you get lost because like I said before we don’t care about road signs

-In New Jersey, the smells can smell you back

Love,

MastaG

O hai people who say “insure” instead of “ensure”! What exactly do you mean when you say “this new automated robotic packaging system will insure the delivery of our product on time for our vendors”? Are you proposing an insurance arrangement for the robotic packaging system? If so, you haven’t specified a deductible or percentage of the insured’s payment responsibility. You have overlooked many aspects of the insurance contract you have proposed.

It appears you failed 7th grade English. The bowels of our school systems have given fecal birth to your heinous literacy. Perhaps I’m being too harsh… maybe you’re still in 6th grade.

Also, for every time you say “for all intensive purposes” instead of the correct phrase “for all intents and purposes”, I’m going to defecate in the upper deck of your toilet.

Love,
MastaG

Open Letters are posted every Thursday morning. For more, click Open Letters under Categories on the right.

Open Letters are posted every Thursday morning. For more, click Open Letters under Categories on the right.

O hai 3% of Nature’s Graffiti Readers! You are using Safari to look at our website. Whoa, whoa, whoa…. you should lean back a little, you don’t want to get emo tears on your new Apple Macbook Pro you got for Christmas (or “X-mas” as you call it when you’re around your parents). Wipe those tears off with your $50 black hoodie from Hot Topic and have another sip of emo juice (Starbucks Soy Peppermint Mocha, with a half squirt of white chocolate syrup). What the hell happened to your second mouse button anyway? Is that why you’re crying? Because you can’t right click?

32.9 % of our readers are at least 87 years old because they’re still using Internet Explorer. Hasn’t IE crashed enough already?

60.3% of our readers are turbo charged ultra mega super bona fide millionaire pimps because they use Firefox. Nice!

Love,
MastaG

PS: Your pants are too tight

The above image is GPL licensed, and was originally created by Steevven1 of Wikipedia.

O hai Hevy Devy! I love you. Not in a homosexual way, or some creepy stalker way. Nay, I would defend thee against a thousand creepy stalkers, and if homosexuals weren’t so merry and non-threatening I would surely ward off the short shorts, glitter, dance music, and sexual acts that are technically illegal in my home state of Virginia (yeah, I’m serious, it’s illegal here, even for the opposite sex to enjoy).

I can’t stop listening to your music. It’s a problem. Seriously. My wife constantly protests “MastaG, pleeeeeeeeease, I can’t listen to another over-the-top operatic metal album about a 4th dimensional alien who wishes to consume the entirety of the Earth’s coffee supply.” I return with “WHAT?! We’ve only listened to Ziltoid the Omniscient five times on this car trip, and I need at least twelve repeats of this CD before I can even consider listening to the next Devin Townsend album,” and then she usually counterblasts something like “Ok, MastaG, I’m going to make this perfectly clear; I will suffocate you in your sleep if I have to listen to one more double kick drum.” Then I usually switch to Terria or Ocean Machine-Biomech because she can actually endure those albums without contemplating murdering me in some horrible fashion.

In fall of 2006, you and your wife were blessed with a son! Allow me to offer my congratulations on your first born! You will surely be awesome parents. Understandably, you quit touring to spend time with your family. It was the noblest course of action any new father could have made.

Despite quitting live shows, you released a solo album entitled Ziltoid The Omniscient, which was recorded and produced in your basement, and you used software called The Drum Kit From Hell for percussion (the “drums” sounded awesome, by the way). This hilarious yet heavy and harmonic metal album merely acted further as causation for the adoration I feel towards your music, and has thus enraged my wife by rehearing the same album over, and over, and over, and over again. If this trend continues, I guarantee that within the first year of my marriage to the lovely Intergalactic Hustler, I will be maimed, tortured, and possibly “suicided”, or worse! I like being alive, it’s pretty cool. So PLEASE continue to make music. A variety of new basement-produced Devin Townsend albums could help dull the pain that my wife currently feels, and thus save my life.

If you ever play another show again, with any band, I will travel across the omniverse to witness the act. My wife has an interdimensional space craft that I can hitch a ride on. In fact, she’s currently on a space mission to save cuddly space creatures… no doubt NOT listening to any Devin Townsend records on her voyage.

Love (again, not in a gay way),
MastaG

Open Letters are posted every Thursday morning. For more, click Open Letters under Categories on the right.

O Hai People Who Still Write Checks At The Checkout Line! Get out of the way, can’t you see I’m busy and important? It’s not 1987 anymore, get a diddly-dang-dong debit card and save yourself the 48 seconds it takes to write and sign a check.

Love,
MastaG

Open Letters are posted every Thursday morning. For more, click Open Letters under Categories on the right.

The spare tire from my Volkswagen has been located!!!!

O hai our kitteh catz! I awoke this morning to find a box of pasta ripped open and scattered everywhere. Was the full bowl of gourmet dried food I gave you before I went to bed last night unsatisfactory? You also stole my tube of Vaseline lip therapy from my night stand. What the hell…. at least pasta is edible (when added to boiling water), but the Vaseline doesn’t even resemble something you can consume. I expect that I’ll find the Vaseline the next time I look under wherever you dragged it to, most likely it will have some bite marks in it from where your stupid little brains thought “Hey, maybe if we bite this plastic thing, it will become food!!!!” That’s insane. You’re catarded.

Also, why and how did you move my miniature metal Volkswagen Beetle replica across the apartment, and remove the spare tire from its trunk? If you wanna chase the laser pointer when I get home, then you little bitch nuggets better give me back my spare tire.

Love,
MastaG

Notice the missing spare tire from the front-trunk of the Beetle:

Open Letters are posted every Thursday morning. For more, click Open Letters under Categories on the right.

O hai NoVA SUV drivers! Last we met, the front bumper of your absurdly gargantuan vehicle was so close to the rear bumper of my little car that you could probably smell my farts… could the fluid-phase chemicals of the olfactory system in your nose detect the sundried tomato hummus and veggie burger I gorged on last night? You thought that 9mph over the speed limit was an unacceptable speed, so you tailed me until you could cut off a dump truck in the left lane and gun it to 103mph before slamming on your brakes at the next stoplight. You won! You won! You won! You got to the stoplight before everyone else did! But when I pulled up next to you at the stoplight, did it make you think that maybe the way you drive doesn’t get you to your destination any faster? Oh wait, that’s right, you forgot to read the statistic that says driving fast through the city only gets you to your destination faster about 3% of the time due to stoplights and traffic.

Did you know that it takes 3 times the distance to stop your 8,000lb vehicle as it does to stop mine? No, no, no, of course you didn’t know. You bought that beast only two weeks ago when you got a promotion at the law firm, because you successfully defended a rich and powerful baby rapist due to technicalities in the police arrest, and you’re too dense to understand that you’re putting everyone in danger. Dude… you’re driving a top heavy death machine… and driving it too fast.

It’s been snowing recently. Most people just slow down so they don’t end up swerving out of control and ending up in a ditch. Surely your 4WD vehicle can climb its way out of said ditch, but what about the school bus that you forced off the road and flipped over? Nah those kids are fine, they can take a beating, you should know because you can’t wait to get home and beat your kids every night. Maybe that’s why you’re in such a rush? Gotta get home to lay down a few smacks on the helpless to mask the pain of your own self-loathing?

Why do you need that giant vehicle anyway? Are you hauling a trailer any time soon? Do you have 8 children? Or do you just want people to envy you because you can afford $100 in gas every week? I don’t envy you. Nobody does. You are a self-centered buffoon with ego issues and a lead foot that will get you, and anyone else involved in the horrific crash that you will eventually cause, a one way trip to the morgue. I hate you. I hate your vehicle. I hate your insanely cute labradoodle designer dog barking at me from your backseat.

Die.

Love,
MastaG

Open Letters are posted every Thursday morning. For more, click Open Letters under Categories on the right.

O hai dust mites! I’m allergic to your poop (which is my digested dead skin). At the advice of my allergist, I clean my sheets and pillow cases every week in +120 degree water in hopes that I might murder you and your children, but you keep coming back and eating my dead skin and pooping and making me sneeze! Well I have a solution that will work out for both of us. Can you just start using the toilet? Or how about I install a microscopic toilet? It’ll be one of those awesome Japanese toilets that lights up and tells you how much fiber you need in your next meal. This will work out great… you can continue to eat my dead skin, but I won’t sneeze from inhaling your poop, and I won’t have to keep murdering you and your children every week! Deal?

Love,
MastaG

Open Letters are posted every Thursday morning (this is the first of many to come). For more, click Open Letters under Categories on the right.