I suppose you think you're so great just because you wrote A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. Well, I wrote an episode of Pound Puppies, but you don't see me bragging. Even though it was a pretty awesome show. You may have seen it. It was the one in which a stray hound dog gave everyone worms. Ironically, the title of the episode was "A Heartbreaking Case of Wiggling Stools."
I say you "may" have seen it, but unfortunately you didn't because the network refused to put it on the air. They said it wasn't "kid friendly" just because in one scene one of the pound puppies mauls a kid. Looking back on it, I don't think the producers made an honest portrayal of what it's like for dogs at the pound.
Anyway, I wanted to tell you I'm real sorry your parents died and you had to raise your little brother and you were forced to go to school with Vince Vaughn, but you know what? I've had my share of troubles too. Let's just say that episode of Pound Puppies was based on a true story and leave it at that . . . I had worms. So how come no-one has offered me the editorship of The Paris Review? What gives?
Still. I think it's great that you and your little brother have been traveling around giving away all your money to people in Sudan and New Orleans. People born in third world countries really have it bad. If I somehow managed to trick a bunch of people into reading my stupid book, I'd probably spend the money on a monster truck or something. I wouldn't give it away, and I certainly wouldn't launch a literary quarterly geared towards gay Irishmen like you did. But I guess it's good you found your niche.
Well, I that's about it for now. It's about time I hit the hay (Literally. I sleep in a barn.), and I know you probably need to go edit something. Speaking of which, feel free to use this letter in the Best American Non-Required Reading 2010. If you do, I promise to donate my share of the proceeds to my favorite charity. You may have heard of it. It's called The Truck-A-Saurus Fund. Won't you help?