Dear Aunt Doris,
I am proud of you. You have worked hard and you can now use the internet and also dance. I know that this is a strange time, but I love you. Aunt Doris, your husband is a farmer in Idaho and so are you. Thank goodness: you will not have to go outside too much. Everything you need is on your farm, where you plant plants and water and harvest them, and then you sing praises to Ol’ Donald and try not to think about death. When you butt-Skype me at odd hours of the night, which is to say before 1 PM, I can overhear from your TV the sounds of beautiful women insulting science.
I see that you have been on Facebook. In the past three weeks, I have received thirty-seven friend requests from you. I do not mean to offend, but I must point out that you can use your existing account instead of creating a new one every time you log in. I can teach you how, if you like, over Skype.
Thank you for sending me the videos of you dancing. You have decided to take on a new hobby. Good for you. It is never too late to be a star. You should thank Barb for bragging about her recent forays into salsa over email. Barb is an amateur, but you have real skill, even though you are not as experienced. Barb is also a city girl—I hope you never realize that she has only pursued the salsa because she is social distancing, which means she is a Leftist.
Keep dancing and don’t leave your property. You have everything you need. Also, if you leave, the feds will find you and only the Lord knows what the bastards are capable of.
Harvard 2004 | B.A. Philosophy Libra <3
Elitist <3 <3