Guest Post: Dear Son

You don’t call, you don’t write, this is how we communicate with each other? joem18b. We give you the name joem07b during the brit milah, but is that good enough for you? No, Mr. Big Shot has to move to Hollywood and become joem18b.

Your sister is dating a doctor. Well, she is his patient. Your sister is seeing a doctor. She says that she is good to him. No health insurance and still she hasn’t paid for a single visit.

You brother was fired from the police department. “Hate crimes in uniform,” they said. Mr. Fancy Pants couldn’t take it off first? Now he’s a security guard at the mall. Already he’s been warned and then admonished. He says they are “managing him out the door.” Your brother is filled with rage. It’s why he was such a good cop.

You are still dead to your dad.

I spoke to your uncle Saul, Mr. Hollywood Big Shot. He says he will “listen for one  f**king minute to the s**t you call writing.” Always Mr. Knows Everything.

Say hello to Ranana the cat for me.

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