Dear McDonalds,

I’m not sure if you realize how clutch it was when you brought back the 4-piece McNugget for $1.  It really cements your title of Best Dollar Menu!  I’m a student who can’t cook—you saved my life!!  Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know people have been on your shit about the healthiness of your food in recent years.  I appreciate you throwing apples and yogurt and shit on the menu…

But C’mon…

You think I’m rolling out of McDonalds with a box of motherfuckin apples???  When McNuggets are a DOLLAR!!!

Not likely…

Back in the day, the McNuggets were always that baller shit.  They weren’t on the dollar menu, so you had to get the value meal if you wanted them (McDonalds made sure it wasn’t economical to just buy the McNuggets alone—a clever move to be sure).  I can remember gettin hot at everybody who ordered that value meal while I stood there with $3 and a lent ball in my pocket!  But those days are over!!  I’m back in the game bitch!!

Yours in truth,

The Postman

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Dear Girl With The Nice Smile At The McDonalds Drive-Thru,

If you ever forget my sweet and sour sauce like that again…I’ll drop kick you right out that little window.

Yours in truth,

The Postman

A Dear You Classic

Dear DJ Flash,

Thank you! Thank you dearly!! Do you realize which level of the game you have just stepped it up to?!?! Not only are you feeding the people, you are giving them a two step at the fish fry as well!

Bra-fucking-vo!!!!

Too many times you hear about hip-hop artists “grinding” or “hustling.” How many of them are selling crab legs at their shows? Huh?? You have officially shut it down. You give a new meaning to cross-marketing. I can’t wait for your late night infomercials selling your seminars on scratching and de-veining. With all your certain future success you even find time to scratch that philanthropic itch by giving us a FREE mixtape with every order!! There are truly no more words to describe this.

Sarcastically yours,

Seymour Monet

Dear Six Foot Black Guy In The Mini-Cooper:

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Yours in truth,

The Postman

Note: This article was contributed by Preston Swagger , a fellow Truth Merchant who’s just written a very insightful article on why men fake orgasms .  You should check it out (if there are enough clicks maybe I’ll get a raise).

Dear Girl With The Shawl At Last Night’s Dark Knight Showing,

A shawl?  Really?  I know it gets cold in movie theaters, but you looked like you were only in your mid-twenties (and cute).  Which is why I was so confused when you pulled out…

The shawl.

And proceeded to pull your feet up onto the seat and drape it over your entire body like a tent.

Is that what’s hot in the streets right now?

I mean it was a 10pm showing on a Monday night.  So I’m wondering who separated you from your glass of warm milk to bring you out for that?

But like I said, you’re a very attractive girl…and guys will overlook a lot for very attractive women (even shawls).  So maybe we can get together sometime.  I’ll cut out a few “Hometown Buffet” coupons and we’ll tear it up til 9:30 or 10pm.

Your hip is still good to go right?

Yours in truth,

The Postman

Note: I.M. Haight is a staff writer at TruthMerchants.com .  A fantastic website run by some dudes who don’t pay me enough a great group of writers.

Dear Germaphobe At The Gym,

Are you serious?  Did I just see you flush the urinal with your knee?? I understand the importance of proper hygiene.  Really I do.  I use warm water and soap…cough and sneeze into the fold of my arm…all the good stuff.  However, using a different paper towel to dispense soap, cut the water on and off, and to open the door is TOO FUCKING MUCH!  Put on a whole body condom if it’s that serious!

Before you start to think that I’m overreacting and that you are just being cautious.  Think back to when you were a child.  Did that tasty booger kill you?  Do you have some incurable infectious disease contracted from touching the bars on the jungle gym?  No!  At most you got a cold.  Your nose ran, you whined and your mom just popped the mammary canteen back in your mouth.  So, stop it with the bio-hazard routine!!  That is all.  Thank you.

Disgustingly yours,
I.M. Haight

Dear Dance Team Tryout Kids,

This is a night club!  I came here to ingest several Vodka-based drinks and attempt to bring a young lady home with me.  I did NOT come to watch you and your friends do a choreographed dance routine.  There are no judges here—except for the people who’ve already “judged” you a loser in their minds (I happen to be standing next to one).

Save the poppin and lockin for Randy Jackson, dog. In the club you just look retarded (and that may be an insult to retarded people).

Yours in truth,

The Postman
P.S. - Randy thought it was a little pitchy…

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Dear DJ IMG,

Please burn in hell…  Look, I understand the need for people to remember your name.  For a DJ that is important.  But the way you scratched in a track with your own name it for 45 seconds before your set began was beyond stupid.

Congratulation…I remember your name.  And I fucking hate you.

Your in truth,

The Postman

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Dear White People At Mood On Saturday Night,

Kudos.  I didn’t expect so many of you to get so, “low, low, low, low, low, low, low, low” with the Flo Rida song.  Please be sure to thank your black friends/dick donators.  I’ve never seen that many white people move in unison outside of an Olympic swimming pool.

But I’m naive like that…

Yours in truth,

The Postman

Dear You is a member of the Merchant Media Network.  It’s a place where open letters are written to groups or individuals for something terrible, stupid, despicable, corny, witless and sometimes commendable that they’ve done.  Consider it a shrine…it’s where we come to point them out and pay them their due…