Letter from Benson Mooney

Dear Robert Robus,

How dare you, you insolent cybercomedian, you! I must say that it was a distinct displeasure to have you on my show last week; but I felt certain that, rather than putz around in a shameful manner (as you have done in your latest two blog posts), you were going to make good on your promise to discuss the all-important subject of lemons. But no! Instead, you go around discussing oranges, limes: in sum, any citrus fruit that is not a lemon!

Yet, come to think of it, how could one expect such honourable conduct as I have specified, from such a lowly cybercomedian as yourself? Pfff--impossible! I have been an idiot, Robert--a stupid idiot!

And yet, somehow, my folly continues: Robert L. Robus, I adore you. While I admit that your penchant to tread near the edges of decorum and to pontificate endlessly in a quasi-British manner gave me slight pause at first, I've always really dug your column. You are one of the greatest cybercomedians ever to set a finger to keyboard; you are a tremendous scribe; and I adore your flamboyant style. My wife and I read your column every night before bed, and we find it just so charming and funny! (In fact, last week I had to be treated for a dislocated stomach due to having found one of your posts exceptionally risible.) And, Robert, when I finally decided to bite the bullet and invite you to my nationally-syndicated, critically acclaimed, internationally buzzworthy radio show, I literally tingled with anticipation to meet you, Robert Robus.

The fact that you seem to possess no opinion on lemons, while certainly a big deal, ultimately does not matter. In fact, you (Robert Robus) are sufficiently charming that you may commit any breach of conventionality and/or politeness, and be automatically forgiven. This is somewhat like my wife, in that she, although possessing an obnoxious personality, has such a nice physical form that she could burn my toast, and singe my eggs, and shave my sideburns off, and I would still kiss her with great relish.--Hmm, come to think of it, she appears to have the razor now! Are you miffed, my love, that I have aired my proclivities for your corporeal self in an epistle which is sure to be posted for an international audience by the world's greatest cybercomedian, Robert Robus? Well, I married you! Would that lead you to believe that I was in any way disinclined to smooch your corpus? Now come here and french me, you capricious hussy!

Best wishes,
Benson Mooney