PAGE ONE: OPEN LETTER TO GRAND RAPIDS MICHIGAN.

You can’t hurt me, although you’ve tried.

I am a nigger. I am a faggot. I am a greedy Jew, a lazy spick, a Muslim terrorist, a drunk Indian, a gook, a whore and a weakling. I am the anti Christ, the capitalist, and the anarchist. A preaching christian, a condescending atheist. I’m the police officer who pulled you over and the enemy you wish was dead. The Solider and the civilian. I’m the guy whose fucking your girlfriend and I am your ex-wife’s new husband. I am possessed, I’m a politician, and I’m the boss who said you weren’t good enough.

Now, this is what I am doing to you, what are you doing to hurt ME? Nothing. Just like we all expected. Punch me, kick me, break my nose then rub salt in my wounds, and still you are doing nothing but proving my point. Your not helping or hurting me or anyone else, you should waste your time elsewhere.

I would appreciate it if I did not have to see you anymore. I am a burden to you and you are an annoyance to me. I win every time, save yourself from embarrassment while you still can.

Please find a new hobby and leave me alone. Collect stamps, build model cars, or do crossword puzzles. Your plans are not working out the way you had hoped they would. Your not shocking, scary, cool, intimadating, or funny. Everything you do and everything you think could ever offended or impress someone has already been done, you are just an imitation of an imitation. Parading down the street in costume: punks, thugs, artists, skinheads, hippies and anything else you are calling yourself these days. Whatever category you happen to fall in, none of it is new, and none of it defines you no matter how much you wish it did. Also no matter how bad you want it to give you personality, it just doesn’t.

Your idea of offensive is based on what censorship trends are not allowing. You are offensive enough to make the Disney Channel’s audience uncomfortable, I will give you that much. Also edgy enough to be bleeped on day time talk shows. Good job, I’m proud of you and I’m sure your dad finally is too. Outside of television and in reality you are only offensive enough to be considered a fool. What is censored on TV is not offensive to me or anyone who isn’t a parent or child.

Censorship is a way to create an image for a company, by saying they don’t approve of certain things, they build an honorable reputation. The audience will choose what company they approve of based on their reputation. You use the same mindless technique to cry for help and as a way to get people to listen to your frustrations. The only difference is they are trying to be nice, you are trying to be mean. Both sides are equally transparent.

You can try to smash what you don’t understand, you can try to humiliate it, discourage it, fight it, make fun of it and even dedicate your life against it. You can do all these things and you will always end up looking desperate. Every weakness you have will start to shine. For most of you the weakness will be your insecurity and stupidity. When we are both dead the only thing you will have gotten from the world in return is pity, and no one will even remember why you existed. Just another grave in the yard.

Your probably wondering who this is aimed towards, who I am talking about? If you are wondering this, I am talking about you.

May God bless you in this life and in the next,
Michael Andrew Bussler”

PAGE TWO: OPEN THREAT

A letter from your annoyed neighbor:

“We have asked you kindly to stop that dog from howling all day long, yet he continues to do so. We pleaded with you. We told you how this is destroying our family. We have no peace, no rest. Now I know what kind of a person you are and what kind of a family you are. You are cruel and inconsiderate. You have no love for any other human beings. Your selfish, sir. Our life is destroyed now. We have nothing to lose anymore. I can see that there shall be no peace in my life, or my families life until I end yours.

When father Sam gets drunk he gets mean. He beats his family. Sometimes he ties me up to the back of the house. Other times he locks me in the garage. Papa Sam keeps me locked in the attic too. I can’t get out but I look out the attic window and watch the world go by.I feel like an outsider. I am on a different wavelength then everybody else — programmed too kill.

However, to stop me you must kill me. Attention all police: Shoot me first — shoot to kill or else keep out of my way or you will die! Papa Sam is old now. He needs some blood to preserve his youth. He has had too many heart attacks. ‘Ugh, me hoot, it hurts, sonny boy.’

I am the ‘Monster’ — ‘Beelzebub’ — the chubby behemoth, and I love to hunt. Prowling the streets looking for fair game and tasty meat. The wemon are prettyist of all. It must be the water they drink. I live for the hunt, it is my life. Blood for papa.

Im sorry sir, I don’t want to kill anymore. No sur, no more but I must, ‘honour thy father.’ I want to make love to the world. I love people. I don’t belong on earth, please return me to yahoos.To the people of the world, I love you, and I want to wish all of you a happy summer.”

May God bless you in this life and in the next,
Michael Andrew Bussler