About Me~

To WHOM it MAY CONCERN~ in the style of TWAIN

Okay , those of you know I posted several months ago I posted the Mark Twain letter where he writes to the snake oil salesman who claimed to be able to “CURE” diptheria which tragically took the life of Twain’s son. He is such a great satirist, and today I found out that my sister suffered a completely unwarranted attack on some personal things that she can’t change, and therefore thought, I SHALL write a satirical letter to said unknown person. IT FOLLOWS.
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MarkTwain

Dear Person it may concern,
It has come to my attention that while conversing with my sister you felt compelled to make certain remarks about her appearance. This brings me to write this letter. Now I assume you ARE a real person, as my sister WAS speaking to you. You go about in broad daylight and are not therefore some type of vampire or other unworldly creature. And I MUST assume you have a brain , you spoke and didn’t shuffle haphazardly zombie like to bring out Daryl Dixon with his cross bow. And yet I am confused? You said my sister looked old! She’s a certain age , I won’t say what , as it’s no one’s business, but old compared to what? You said she looked tired! She has two sons, keeps an immaculate home, I daresay I could eat off of her bathroom floor, and not have the slightest fear! She has diabetes, 2 sisters with diseases killing them off slowly to whom she shows great compassion. So should she be jolly and gay? You even , I shudder to even mention this last one, for if you know , truly KNOW my sister, you would NEVER had said such a thing, said “She put on WEIGHT.” I perish, I faint, I revolt at the idea that you should be so cold. So you must surely be as Dorothy’s Scarecrow. Full of straw. Are you the ideal ? Are you young , vibrant , in your prime and perfect? Perhaps we should look deeper , for I am beginning to think there is nothing there in the middle at all, and you are more as the TIN MAN. “Oh, if I only had a HEART!” But let me reassure you ! There is hope! I shall pray for you. I shall pray you never feel the sting of a horrible comment such as those, and pray that people have compassion on your mean little soul. And I shall pray that you NEVER say such things to my sister again. As Twain would say Adieu! Adieu ! Adieu!

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About Me~

Bosom Friends~

You were the Diana to my Anne. Even though the hair colors were the other way around. You with the red, and I the raven . I was the one with the great ideas, leaky rowboat, anyone ? I was the one who could never turn down a dare. Walk a ridgepole on a roof? Ride standing up bareback while galloping? No problem. I was the tomboy with the frogs in coffee cans. You were always the voice of reason. As in , ” I don’t know about this!” “Are you sure this is a good idea?!?” But you never squealed on me, even though maybe sometimes you should have. You were the one who always knew the right and proper things to say. I was the one who blurted out a totally inappropriate (albeit truthful!) comment. I would definitely have been the one to talk you into jumping into Great-Aunt Jo’s bed in the middle of the night. We’ve had some of those not-so-bosom friend times, though. My fault, your fault, didn’t really matter. I always looked dreamily across the pond , writing melancholy poetry wishing I had taken a lock of your hair to weep over. But for all that, we are and always will be sisters. The Red and the Raven, with all the inside jokes that only we will ever know. And I can’t say that I can imagine anything better.