A Quick Letter To Asian American Authors

Dear Asian American Authors,

I would kindly ask you that you please no longer write books even though I understand that it might be your passion (your calling some might say). The reason I say this is purely selfish however, so you are, of course, free to just tell me to fuck off.

Here's the deal. Last night I came in about 5:00 in the morning from a pretty long stint of gambling, got a quick nap, and was off to work doing my thing (which consists of as little as possible) and my plan - which sounded really good - was to basically fall asleep in my clothes once I got home. No e-mail. No blog. Nada.

Good plan right?

I thought so.

Apparently though someone else had other ideas, because the book I picked up last month "I Love Yous Are For White People" which I stored in my stack for next year - somehow landed in my hands as I was having an after work rendezvous with my special place (and by special place I mean my white porcelain kingdom).

And guess what - and this is where I have my issues with you authors - I couldn't put that fucker down. I'm already half way through this MF and I may have to finish it up tonight, and the way I read, lips wide open pronouncing every word - fuck people - I'm not going to sleep tonight.

Help an Asian brother out. Write some shit that sucks. Thanks to you because I'll be so sleep deprived every answer to every question in every meeting is going to have something to do with government cheese coming out the wrong hole and instead of looking like a semi-professional drone who's only there to pick up a paycheck like everybody else, I'll probably be ending meetings with my pants down and my hands out asking for quarters, and as security is dragging me out the door I'll just be screaming like an idiot "I'll beat you Trucker! I'm going to beat your ass down!"

Then I'll be homeless.

And it'll be all your fault.