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Dear Joshuah, with a superfluous "h" (how embarrassing for you):

Can you clarify something for me? When you were giving a diary room speech, you held out your two fingers about half an inch apart and said something like "I felt this big." You WERE discussing the sensation of your itty-bitty penis as you diddled it (like the clit it is) between your thumb and forefinger during your last masturbation session, right?

Every time I think of that adorable little wee-wee tube of yours, I can't help but be reminded of some of my most cherished childhood memories.



I had a lot of fun growing Sea Monkeys when I was a kid, and I never forgot that iconic cartoon of the happy Sea Monkey family. Which one of them do YOU think your penis most resembles? I think the little baby Sea Monkey, except that the baby Sea Monkey looks happy and your penis looks kind of sad and neglected. I remember that the Sea Monkey came with a plastic magnifying glass that I would use to observe them. Do you provide one of these for each of your tricks? I think you should -- it's the polite thing to do.

Though, now that I think about it, I can't imagine another human being touching your cock. It's obvious that you are a SUBMISSIVE SERVICER, that kind of guy who drops to his knees and furiously jacks off his own dick while chowing down on whoever may have paid you the slightest bit of attention that night in the bar. Still, I'd think that at least a FEW guys might want to look at your silly-willy through a magnifying glass if only for the entertainment value, and so that they could have a story to tell in later years about the time they met a guy who REALLY and TRULY had a micro-penis. Most of these stories will end like this: "I actually kind of felt sorry for him, but it was more funny than anything else."

It's probably hard for you to notice on a daily basis, but we viewers at home are enjoying watching you grow fatter and fatter each week. You are right to be so concerned about your weight. It's a very serious thing, being so close to morbid obesity. If you get any fatter, society will SHUN YOU, so you'd better be careful and keep worrying about your bloated waistline with every waking moment.

In your letter from home, your family mentioned that they have noticed that you are getting thinner and have lost weight. They are lying to you, of course. You're fucking HUGE. It's nice to know that you whine about your bloated gut to your family, too. I'm sure everyone around you constantly enjoys the daily conversations about how you're "so fat," and "on a diet." Personally, there is no single topic of conversation I enjoy more than another person complaining about being overweight, especially when that person is a nelly, self-absorbed, superficial little queen.

But really, dude: you are GIGANTIC. No wonder your shriveled phallus can't even hang down, having all that support of that massive pad of pubic fat to keep it poking out like a turtle head.

Do consider some post-show liposuction, or maybe even gastric bypass. If you get any fatter, your knees are going to lose elasticity and it will become harder and harder for you to kneel down in front of the gloryholes. Just... just keep that in mind.

It was nice of you to point out how ugly Sheila is looking just lately. After all, why should YOU be the only hideous monster in the house, right? If only you had been the one to get the red unitard -- I'd have enjoyed seeing you try to pull THAT off. Considering there isn't much to do in the house, perhaps you could have let the others hide some common objects inside your rolls of belly fat and see who could dig through the waves of adipose and locate them first.

Where'd you learn to cry on cue like that? The family letter you got... it was so fucking GENERIC, don't you think? I know they aren't allowed to say much, but it sure seemed like whoever wrote it was really struggling to come up with SOMETHING. Probably you learned the art of instant *%!#! over the course of several years, waking up in the morning ALONE AGAIN after each trick has left you, some of whom most surely stole your wallet and a few of your CDs on their way out the door as you slept in a deeply drunken stupor, semen drying on your face and in your hair, just another washed-up, used and abused tramp, a vapid HOLE for some guy to plug at the end of the night when very few men were left on the table for the picking.

Considering that you've admitted to having had just about every sexually transmitted disease available, it is clear that your not a very discerning guy when it comes to choice of sexual partner: you'll go home with ANYONE, won't you?

May I offer a suggestion for the future? Some, but not all lesions, become more visible when viewed under black light. You may want to strip a guy down and do a quick check before lifting your legs up in the air, OK?

But, of course... as you become fatter and fatter, you won't be able to lift your legs in the air anymore, so you'll have to resort to doggy style. But that's nice for the guy who's screwing you: he won't have to look at your ridiculous clown face nor will he have to see how your eyebrows move independently of each other (it's very disconcerting).

And, hey... what kind of homo actually thinks a feather duster is an effective cleaning tool? I don't care if Big Brother didn't give you a microfiber duster -- stop being a lazy bitch and use a DAMP CLOTH.

Ugh. I detest you more and more with every passing day, you noxious, cretinous WORM.

Eat some more, little piggy. You'll be battling your MASSIVE WEIGHT for your entire life. It's a losing battle. Just give up now and let the FAT overtake you, just like you've let the EVIL do the very same thing.