
Philip Weiss and Zo‰ Heller
Dear Mr Weiss,
You don't know me, but I feel pretty confident I have the measure of you. I am Zoë's partner, the father of her forthcoming child. I came across your sorry little billet-doux this afternoon while Z was out at the general store.
I am an easygoing sort of guy, Philip. (May I call you Philip?) My initial response to your fevered essay at electronic lovemaking (your tawdry, priapic promises, your schoolboy speculations on the relative rigidity of my erection, etc.) was to laugh. Poor little fellow, I thought--what bug bit him to make him act so foolish?
Upon a second reading, however, I detected something rather sinister and filthy lurking beneath your magenta prose. I thought to myself, This fellow is pathetic and all, but he's also ... kind of scary. I have since spoken to Z about this and while she is unwilling to complain to the editorial body of Slate, or to the police, at this juncture, she does agree that any further communication with you is undesirable at this time. Please appreciate her generosity in this matter and respect our joint request that you send no further e-mail of a personal nature.
Yours sincerely,
Harry Krakower
P.S.: Should you be so unwise as to ignore this request, I will have no hesitation in coming to whatever stinky Manhattan hovel you lurk in and beating your emaciated, novelist's body to a bloody pulp. Got that?
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