The Cow And I

There is so much fodder for comment here, I'm almost at a total loss as to how to begin.

Let's set the very disturbing issue of your animal-testicle-torture aside for a moment. I want to savor it.

As for my health, what you mistake for sallow and puffy is in fact something so alien to you I cannot blame you for failing to recognize it. You see, while you toil away in Chicago, slogging your way from indoor space to indoor space through the blistering cold, it may be easy for you to forget that I am literally sitting here on an Australian beach sending you mail. I am tan. I am healthy. And I am very steadily and seriously destroying you. Make no mistake.

However, if your compunction gets the better of you, as it failed to do when you applied that electrical implement worthy of uday to the scrotum of your beloved family animal, I encourage you to do the noble thing, withdraw from competition, and give your conscience a rest. You wouldn't want me to get kidney failure, would you? That would be too much for you to bear.

Hey, if you say it's a tan, I'll take your word for it. Your decline won't be on my conscience. If, indeed, I have one.