A Kind Word To Your Editor

To properly celebrate our hard earned 72 hour anniversary, Objective Phillies Blog of Objective decided to turn the pens over to you, our loyal readership. While all the letters we received were more than magnificent, and leave me without a doubt in my mind that I'm in the right business, we just don't have the time or space to get them all up here. So all this small town, real America, Christian values, guns ahoy, tax cuts for the rich! blog is left to do is publish our absolute, desert island favorite ones. And here they are. Apologies to those who didn't make it; we promise reach-arounds galore at the next signing.

We sincerely thank you all for your continued support of OPBO, the end-result of a tumultous 4 hour marijuana and ether binge.

My Dearest Phanatics,

I write to you with a heavy heart and a limp dick. In recent times, I've fallen deep into the depression of knowing that not only is my wife's Louis Vitton bag a counterfeit, but the new Kings of Leon album I thought I'd bought turned out to be a tribute album by Kings of The Bucket, a shitty kazoo & oboe cover band of McFearless (a less shitty KoL cover band). Not only has this brought distress to my inner soul and led me into relapsing on my Tylenol addiction, but my wife has since fallen for our gardener, Oaxacal, a 12 year old immigrant protected by city statute from me reporting his ass. With nothing left to turn to, I've been praying relentlessly for some salvation for days on end now. I've even taken to wearing a rosary, a pope hat I got at Burger King, and some old bed sheets to work, but all that's gotten me is extreme ridicule and a demotion to Erroneous Errors Payable, where I have to work with Donna (whom I can't quite tell what sex she/he really is) and Wilbur Thompkins, a clinical retard hired on the Good Faith Policy. To add insult to injury, fucking God doesn't even answer my prayers for a goddamn cheeseburger! A fucking 99 cent burger from McDonalds, and his almighty, omnipotent ass can't leave it on my doorstep. It could even be subtle, like "woops, Oaxacal had a heart attack while cutting the grass due to the blowjob he was simultaneously receiving from Janet- that slut- and, hey, is that a cheeseburger he left?"

How many wins do you see the Phillies ending next season with? They're all I've got left.

Thanks,
Sleepless In Seattle

Wow. Thank fuck I'm not you. 85 wins.

Hey Assholes,

I've been readin ur blog since it first came up, and while I used to be a big fan of your insight, ur recent posts hav pisst me off. U guys hav sunk to tabloyd material, u know that?? I bet if i told u guys that Arod was on roids or there was a brotha in the White Hoyse, u'd run with it...without checkin anything. How dare u guys publish privat material of Dug Glavill, Desi Realford, and Larry Bowa like that??? THATS SICK!!! I hope u rasit asshole r happy with ruining a marrige and mayb a family too, since Realford had to split with his wife of 2 years thanks to U!!!! If u guys got sumthin agenst him, say it to him...OR ME AND ILL TELL HIM!! This shit isnt funny...that was a private interview with that Loggins faggot- fuck that pussycake- but now its out in the open! Hav sum fuckin risponsibilty, u kno?!?!

Fuck U,
Now-Single Mother

Um...it's Relaford.

Keepers of the Gate,

For the past few months, since a buddy of mine mentioned this name at a Phils game, it's been nagging at me like mental porn in my 8th grade english class. I figured if anyone would know, it'd be you guys. Who the hell is "Keyser Söze?"

Thanks again,
D. Keaton

Pedro Feliz. As soon as you look away, that OBP skyrockets.

Dear Rusty,

You still aint called or wrote, I hope you have a chance. I aint mad - I just think it' s fucked up you dont answer fans. If you didnt wanna talk to me outside your Q&A session, uou didnt have to, but you coulda signed an autograph for Matthew. That's my little brother man, he's convinced he has a degenerative condition which leads him to believe he's an octopus. We waited in the blistering Philly riots for you; four hours and you just said no. That's pretty shitty man - you're like his fuckin idol (actually, you're just the only human being besides himself he's aware of). He wants to be just like you man, he likes you more than I do (and I write fanfics about you and Stephen Drew). I ain't that mad, though, I just dont like bein lied to. Remember when we met in Denver - you said if Cory Sullivan got a hit off Ryan Madson you'd suck me dry. See I'm just like you in a way, I never "knew" father neither; he used to always cheat on my mom but simultaneously beat it to her- confused guy. I can relate to what you're saying in your blogs, so when I have a shitty day, I drift away and boo household appliances. 'Cause I don't really got shit else- no, really, this economy blows- so that shit helps when baseball season starts. I even got a tattoo of this blog's name across the chest. Sometimes I even cut myself when Tom Gordon comes in to pitch, it's like adrenaline, the distraction from a blown lead is such a sudden rush for me. See everything you say is real, and I respect you 'cause you tell it objectively. My girlfriend's jealous cause I talk about you 24/7, but she dont know you like I know you Rusty, no one does. She's a fuckin' Mets fan. You gotta call me man, I'll be the biggest fan you'll ever lose.

Sincerely yours,
Stan

P.S: We should be together too

Remember how that song ends? Try that.

Thanks again, everyone. We'll see you in 3 days for our next anniversary. Something special's already being planned for then, too. Stick around.