"Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure."

I've been seeing a quote for some time: "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure..." After great reflection, I've decided there are a few things I'm more afraid of than being powerful beyond measure. One of them is being eaten. By bears, rabbits, other human beings... anything really. In fact, the less intimidating the creature, the more horrific the death would certainly end up being. Being eaten by sharks would last minutes. Being eaten by ants? It would take weeks before they finished off just my calves. Terrifying. I am more afraid of being eaten by ants than being all powerful. Another fear is forgetting things, big things. What if one day I lost my cell phone, forgot all the passwords to my accounts, and forgot where I lived? Horrific. I'm so embarrassed to ask strangers for help I'd probably end up driving around aimlessly, wishing I'd bought a GPS and hoping to stumble into the right neighborhood, until I after a couple hundred of miles on surface streets I eventually ran out of gas, where I would then be forced to park and sleep in the back of my car until the proper authorities found me. It could take months. Yeah, maybe it is unlikely I forgot all that stuff on the same day, but it can't be any less likely than becoming powerful beyond measure. There are probably other things that I fear more too -- never being able to fall asleep again, getting hit by an airplane, becoming lactose intolerant, etc... I could go on, but I guess my point is when I really think about it, I'm not all that afraid of being powerful beyond measure. I guess I'm just weird.

Ancient Ruins

Dear Ruins,

Keep your head up. Yeah, you've seen better days, but people like how ruined you are. That's a big part of the appeal, apparently. Nice ruins? Stupid. Nobody wants those. I like my ruins looking so bad they barely resemble anything at all, just strewn about chunks of former building and stone. If the Sphinx had a nose right now, I take a chisel to its face and then say "You're Welcome."

That's just how I roll.

Sincerely,

A Ruiner

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the Unemployed

Dear Unemployed,

You may not be unemployed. You may be something else. Figure out which you are:

- Disemployed: You were employed but a distant relative of somebody at the company you were working at needed a job and your boss felt pressured to replace you with an act of nepotism.

- Underemployed: You were previously employed under morons and quit. Or you were employed under an automobile and the jack broke and you got crushed and have been in a hospital bed ever since.

- Inunemployed: You are a type of unemployment that's very difficult to pronounce, mostly because you were fired because you mumbled at work and nobody could understand you.

- Preemployed or Unpayployed: You are unemployed at an a place that's hired you as an unpaid intern. Technically, you have a job, except the difference is you can't afford to buy food.

- Betweemployed: You are very optimistic and like to frame your unemployment as being "between jobs" even though you don't know when that other job is coming. Good for you.

- Subemployed: You were laid off as a submarine worker. That's been a tough industry ever since the end of WWII. Of course, when business is exploding, that can be literal too, so it's not all bad that business is slow.

- Contraemployed: You are unemployed but not looking. For whatever reason, you are against working at all, which is increasingly unfortunate the more capitalistic the country you reside in.

Sincerely,

The Economy

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Spoilers

Dear Spoiler on the Back of that Honda,

Thank you for keeping that car safe.

Without you, when that Honda starts pushing 250 MPH on the freeway, that car would be in tremendous peril, capable of spinning out, flipping over or getting airborne any second.

Thank you, spoilers, for giving everyday drivers that sense of security they need by providing downward thrust.

Some contend that you are simply for stylizing. While it is true you can make cars look super cool, we all know your real purpose. Science. And safety.

Sincerely,

Another Appreciative Driver

Science. And safety.

George Foreman

Dear George Foreman,

This letter isn't about your grill. It's about your 10 children. Five of them are boys. All five are named George. They all have the same middle name too.

Thank you for doing something I would never think would be done.

I sure hope nobody at your house has a lazy eye though, as that would cause serious mayhem. You would never know who was talking to who.

Either way, I bet everyone in your family is crazy. And that you would make great reality TV.

Sincerely,

Somebody who will give their kids different names

Over Highlighting

Dear Over Highlighter,

We all know that to accent, point out, or call attention to a certain part of any type of written document, highlighting has become the favorite choice of many. Although other methods are available, that simple bright yellow background stands out amongst competitors, literally.

But what you, Over Highlighter, are doing, qualifies as abuse. You rush through papers, casually highlighting everything as if everything were important. By the time you reach the end of the page only a sparse few words are left untouched.

You are not a highlighter, you are a lighter.

By the time you have finished you will not be able to really tell anything. Just like when you started, nothing stands out.

The only thing you have managed to accent was your own foolishness.

Idiot.

Sincerely,

Don't Highlight Everything Please

Powder Puff Football

Dear Powder Puff Football,

I like you. Every year the junior and senior girls at my high school faced off in the Powder Puff Championship. It was a nice competitive event that required practice, physical toughness, and males willing to put on skirts to become the cheerleaders.

I enjoyed the way you gave that one girl who had always been a little short for her weight, yet 6’ 5”, a chance to shine in front of the whole school. She was that really nice girl who seemed to have gotten more genes from her dad's side. It was as if she'd been bred her entire life for that game. For many years she probably felt uncomfortable with her size, at times a little out of place, and then comes along a game seemingly created for her to dominate. And dominate she did, hammering petite valley girls filling in at running-back and tight end. Then on offense, she'd create holes offensive coordinators dream of. Maybe she'd never score or throw a touchdown, but she'd leave the field in a wake of bruises and broken nails. It was the classic underdog story, played out every year by an atypically large underdog.

Not all the spectators pay attention to your subtle footnotes such as these, but some do. I remember one particular year, when the game ended and our hero walked off the field with her head held high, I noticed a cheerleader who was also overcome by emotion as mascara ran down his face.

It was a powerful image, one that has been seared into my memory ever since.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

A Fan

Protesters in Trees

Dear Protesters in Trees,

We all know that in today’s world, forests are being cut down at incredible rates to meet consumer demands for paper plates, cardboard boxes, and baseball bats.

Thank you for fighting the fight to save the trees not from the halls of congress or through well-organized boycotts, but by simply choosing to live in them. It's true: the best way to stop a tree from being cut down is to be in one.

You have plenty of faith and plenty of conviction and plenty of patience (there's only so much you can do in a tree). You have much to admire. In fact, I ask if we have more to learn from you.

What would happen if your sit-down intrusion style of protesting carried on to other controversial issues? Let's say... air pollution.

Maybe your same tree sitting idea would work on the freeway. All the people who hate pollution and want cars to stop using roads could go and sit on the freeway and 4 in the morning when there is hardly any traffic and then as the cars come they would have to stop and then think about the consequences of their dirty commute. I bet lots of people would ditch their cars right there, guilt overcoming their conscience. And if the cars don’t see the people in time and run over them, it would definitely be the driver’s fault -- for recklessly killing an innocent protester exercising their first amendment rights.

It might work just as well to promote Gun Control. It sure would be hard to go and shoot at the local range if you see a smiling, tie-dye shirt wearing, bearded 35-year-old man jump in between you and the target.

You tree sitters might be on to something, the power of the space that a human body occupies is great. And let that be a lesson to us all.

Sincerely,

A Man Not as Valiant as You

"That's The Best Part!"

Dear Person Who Says "But That's The Best Part!",

No, the cartilage joints of this chicken bone are not the best part. That would be the meat, the part I ate.

"But That's The Best Part"-Person, I know you get off being a culinary rebel, one characterized by extreme hate of wastefulness and being unusually proud, but you don't have to force it on the rest of us. You go ahead and eat the orange peels, shrimp tails, steak grizzle, and chicken leg cartilage we leave behind.

We know you get joy out of digesting things no one else does. It's nice that your humility makes you feel so proud. Congratulations.

We know you just want to make a point -- which is that you will eat pretty much anything you can and pretend to like it. Well, point made.

Sincerely,

Non-Chicken-Cartilage Consumer

Fake Plants

Dear Fake Plants,

Thank you for providing the beauty of nature without any of the environmental benefits. I'm getting tired of all that fresh air regular plants have been spewing. It's so nice to look at a tree with the comfort of knowing it doesn't need dirt or water.

You know what I'd like? Fake animals, that's what. A nice, fake plastic dog. It would look nice, same as a regular dog, but I wouldn't have to feed it or pick up its feces. That's what I need. That's man's real best friend: plastic dogs.

And then I could get a fake cat and a fake turtle and a fake bird. Fake plants, you are onto something. Maybe someday our civilization will be so advanced, we'll even be able to have fake children and stuff. All the beauty - none of the work. That's what we need.

Sincerely,

Somebody Stuck Inside