Dear Brain,
How’s it going, old friend? This is difficult for me to write, but it’s the right thing to do. First, I must tell you that I have, and always will, love you. However, I do believe it is time we parted ways.
I know it comes as a surprise, but recently I have done something to you that is beyond the realm of forgiveness. I have nothing left to do but hang my head in shame and leave you in peace.
We’ve known each other a long time. Just over 22 years, my how time flies. It seems like only yesterday you were teaching me motor functions. Then you introduced me to mental stimuli and erections, and things got awkward for awhile. Hoping someday that whole unwanted erections thing’ll go away, but hey, that’s not your fault, you were just doing your job.
So many things have happened to us over the years. Many nights spent thinking of hillarious penis jokes. What do you call a skyscraper when it falls over? Erectile Dysfunction. Genius. And it was all you, buddy.
Sure we’ve had our down times too. Sure you may have caused me to go into near-blinding death rages over things such as that cockweed at the bank calling it an ATM Machine when the M clearly means MACHINE, making his statement “Automatic Teller Machine Machine”. Oh sure, you pointed out that they told me to put my Pin NUMBER into said ATM Machine, making the statement “Put your Personal Identification Number Number into the Automatic Teller Machine Machine”. That will never leave me.
And of course there was all the self-doubt, inward hatred, and the many, many times you made me question my own sanity. Of course, there is no question about my sanity now. I am writing a letter to my brain, which clearly makes me fucking demented.
I suppose you’d like to know what is causing this departure to happen. It’s a matter of media genres. I know in the past we’ve battled with many questions regarding Genres and Sub-genres. Like when we spent an entire night together trying to figure out what the hell “House” music is, only to find out it totally blew ass. Or the time we had to make a venn-diagram to figure out how much humor before a “Dramedy” goes back to “Comedy”. Or remember when we almost killed a guy over the many different kinds of “Metal” music. So many battles fought, pal.
However, we can’t rebound from this one. When my eyes read this word, it almost killed the both of us. I was a deer in the headlights to it, and the prolonged exposure almost lead to permanant You-Damage. I am so sorry for that.
Of course, I’m speaking of the “Bromance” incident.
It makes me shudder to even think of it now. I was such a fool to read that word. When they said “This movie is a bro…” I should have stopped there. I knew as soon as the term “bro” came up that nothing good could come of it. I had no idea it would be this brutal. This savage. This flat-out fucking stupid.
Bromance. That one word is going to end our relationship. The downfall of American movies is going to end my connection with the greatest friend I’ve ever had.
Know that this is harder for me than it is for you, but we cannot be together anymore. When you made me start to twitch upon reading that word, I knew things were bad. When I went into a full-blown “WTF Seizure”, it was the first sign of the end. And when I attempted to bomb the magazine that printed the word’s head office, it was the last sign of the end.
I am completely heartbroken, but this is for the best.
If you could, please leave behind that mental image of Jessica Alba in “Dark Angel” that I’ve saved all these years. I still can’t thank you enough for that one.
Alright, I’m ready for you to take your leave. It is time for me to become seperated from you. Hopefully, being totally absent of a brain won’t be too damaging to my well being. It seems to have worked for Michael Moore.
Goodbye, and Always Love,
Bob
