Hey commune:

Grady Volsang here again, for the first time. Pissed off? Yeah, that’s right. You must’ve got a warning call from my wife. Seems like you can’t piss out a window in this town without cheesing off some bleeding-heart liberal, that’s what I’ve noticed. But I’ll be a pitbull’s bitch if I give a greased Jesus what those weasels think. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again this afternoon, after my hydrotherapy: I’m done with Donettes. You know, those little donuts that come in a package? Yep, through with them. Finished, kaput. Don’t even try to sell me any, because you’ll be sorely disappointed. I’ve eaten those things every day for forty years and I still haven’t had a good one. So you know what? Nuts to you, Mr. Donette. You had your chance. From now on I’m taking my business to the Sno-Balls camp. I hear they know how to treat a fella.

Grady Volsang
Verno Beach, FL

Dear Grady:

We here at the commune couldn’t agree with you more, Grady, even if we knew what you were talking about. What is clear, however, is that you are some kind of missing link that science has spent eons in search of. Your unfortunate body could speak volumes to the right researchers, about the effects that ingesting several tons of stale donut meal over the decades could have on blood pressure, IQ, running speed, cancer of the ass, and one’s resistance to being gutshot. You owe it to America, Grady, to be autopsied immediately.

the commune

Editor’s Note: the commune is not responsible for anything we may have done while under the influence of pure cane sugar.

Volume 34
As fun as it was to receive your letter and the accompanying diagrams, we’re sorry to say it was merely the product of an honest misunderstanding. When we said that the commune supports “Bush’s War,” we meant Bush’s war on the English language.

Volume 33
That’s not the in-flight video, Delta shows programming from E! on their flights now, which is more entertaining but less helpful when the fuselage rips open at 20,000 feet and everyone thinks the oxygen masks are treehouse telephones.