I could no more sever ties with you than I could sever the neck of that turkey on Thursday, (BTW thanks for stepping in on that scene; your cutlass was impressive!) so I hope you don’t take this letter the wrong way. I drew the short-straw in the minion email-blast/lottery, so while I may use my clever-author voice I really speak for all those who post and comment on your blog and spent the recent Thanksgiving Feast Day of Turkey and Football with you: You Need Therapy! I know that sounds harsh, but your behavior post-slaughter was beyond outrageous! If any of us had thought you would start acting like a scurvy-ravaged pirate after just a few jello shots, we would never have asked for your help with the turkey. And you really should have mentioned that you’ve had previous bad reactions to peyote. Three out five of us are facing lawsuits and Robin, well she’s still in isolation, so I’m not really sure about her yet.
Look Evil, just because you can hack the head off a turkey on a short leash, that doesn’t mean you can wreck furniture, fornicate with the neighbors and local livestock, snort cocaine (or whatever that was) and recite poetry naked, astride the Civil War cannon in the town square. And I’m still not really clear on what was going on in the barn with you , Julie's mare and the MerryMaid who billed me for overtime. Were the minions any less offensive themselves, they would have been more deeply offended, but I think I should tell you that several suggested an intervention. I thought this letter would be a fair first step. Don’t make me initiate Plan B!
I will continue to read your blog and post (anonymously) but (once again I speak for all the minions) I don’t think I’d care to tango (although your gavotte was divine) or talk turkey with Evil Editor (especially in the flesh) ever again.