Letters to the editor: Eviction notice for stuff growing between reader’s toes

Dear whitish semi-translucent somewhat curdish looking substance, freeloading between my left and right baby toes and their respective next-door neighbours:

Now look—I consider myself a patient man. Not Ghandi patient, or even Mandela patient, but certainly more than Kanye patient or Alec Baldwin patient. But your persistent and unwarranted existence is really becoming a source of irritation, both in a physically literal and a more abstract psychological sense. In no uncertain terms, I am demanding that you shove off immediately.

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Letters to the editor: I’m not really here

Recently, I came to the realization that I don’t exist; I haven’t for years. And when I say years, I do in fact mean infinity, it’s just that I’m lazy, and it’s simpler to write “years” than to be bothered with typing out all those zeros.

Now let’s just dismiss your first point of contention right away by saying that the fact that you are reading these non-words in a non-existent letter does not in any way, shape or form constitute some kind of proof that they were written by me, and therefore I must exist.

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Moustache misread maddens Medicine Hat man

An Alberta man is suing his former East Vancouver neighbourhood for refusing to acknowledge the ironic ethos behind his 1970s moustache.

DJ McSweeney – now known as Bradley Brummond of Medicine Hat – launched a Defamation of Character lawsuit Wednesday, alleging that the defendants, a group of political progressives known as “The Hipsters” – engaged in “willful and repeated efforts to make him feel sad, old and uncool.”

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Always a favourite, never a retweet

Gill Renner of Fort McMurray, AB is an avid Twitter user with a problem.

“People seem to like my content, so I can’t complain too much, but they just don’t share it with anyone,” he says. “They give it a star, so I know they liked it, and they know they liked it, but no-one else gets a chance to like it because they never retweet me. It’s so frustrating.”

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Woman lists cat as emergency contact

ALBERTA—Canmore resident Shirley Best is marching to the beat of her own drum.  After years of struggling with who to name as an emergency contact, she finally settled on her cat.

“It got to the point where every time an emergency contact request came up, I was either changing the information or wondering whether I could ask the guy at the corner store to call my parents if I died tragically.” Best paused to stroke her orange tabby, Oscar.  “Seemed easier to give the name of my cat.  Plus, he’s way more reliable than my last boyfriend.”

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