Whenever I clean my office I find these little letters that I’ve written. I usually just giggle to myself and toss em in the garbage but this time I decided to post some before I toss them. I might continue these as a series lord knows I have a billion of em.

- dear John Legend, I would like to bring to your attention that the word “love” doesn’t have a “W” after  the “O” I ask that next album you correct this error in your annunciation. Remember its LOVE not LOW-VE   thank you
- dear seagulls in the parking lot of the supermarket, I think that it’s gross that you eat chicken and I some how think that makes you sell outs.  know thy self.
- Note to self: invent an exercise or an exercise device for men that gets rid of the folds in the back of the head. Sell for 19.99, It needs nifty commercial like…do you have a pack of franks on the back of your head? Does your barber have to hold up flaps to cut your dome? When you stand sideways do you have two profiles? Well no longer with   “folds be gone”
- dear guy in Lexus car trying to cut me off, The knowledge that you don’t posses about me is that I really don’t care if your car scratches my car. But I think if your car gets scratched your little feelings will be hurt. Trust me i’ll brag about it, i’ll show my friends like “wow, look guys, see that scratch, a Lexus did that” In some circles that actually makes me more cool. Now, I’m not going to make assumptions that just cause you have that big expensive car that you’re a jerk or that you are compensating for a lack of lap time as a child, I will NOT do that! That is beneath me and neither will I belittle the size of your genitalia, your sexual prowess or lack thereof, or your inability to communicate or attract members of the opposite sex due to your ghoulish appearance though those poorly tinted windows. I won’t, that’s just immature so in conclusion I will not be letting you over into this lane, please wait your turn like everyone else and let’s all drive safely on the streets have a good day sir
- dear de la soul,  your 1st album (and some of your subsequent career)  saved my life & every time I get an opportunity to tell you the weird story of why you laugh it off. But it’s really true.
- Note to self: The brown pants are high waters, I repeat the brown pants are high waters
- dear horrible rapper with nerd gear on, I cant help it but some part of me is upset that you’re emulating an esthetic of a group of people that you helped denigrate and belittle. Let’s be clear for history sake. You never had a kind word or a smile for us nerds. Even the brilliant and smart ones amongst you buried your realness and masked it with a veil of practiced cool and willful ignorance. I always felt the real gangsta were those of us nerds who had to walk past you day after day with a heavy bag full of books to get into their building and do their homework. Knowing that they would not get any special treatment or recognition and were in fact social outcasts. (the rest of this rant was illegible)
- Note to self: there is no masculine way to use a straw, or eat a banana. Just let go
- Dear artists, there is no spare time. There is no such thing as a part time revolutionary.
- Note to self: no one has to get it but you.
- Dear non-knower of music, You don’t have to lie. If you don’t know about an artist that is brought up in a conversation just say you don’t know and lets move forward. But when you say stuff like “oh HE IS COOL” when the GROUP “Pink Floyd” is mentioned you make yourself look bad.
- Dear apparently homeless dude, why are you huffing and puffing about me going into the store with you to buy you some food. I assume if you’re standing out here that this would be a great place to purchase the food you said you wanted to buy with the $ you’re asking for. Also if I buy a sandwich for you and then you open the package look at it and say “you don’t eat turkey” and then don’t eat the sandwich I should by law be allowed to rob you for my lost sandwich $
- Note to self: I think the movie  “Coming to America” was the only point of pop culture reference for contemporary black royalty until the Obamas