Mr. Rollins Thanks You By John Sleestaxx

Mr. Rollins thanks you

Dear Mr. Sleestaxx,

Henry is very busy and he can not visit your myspace page.
Mr. Rollins appreciates that you have been impacted by his work and although he likes fan fiction.
He would like to remind you that his name and likeness is his brand and he would like to remind you that any negative fiction should not be published.

Hymen, Heflin, or some other girly German Nazi name

Oh now let me tell you something about this whole Henry Rollins neighbor fiction thingy.
I see him online "Oh fuck bush this" and "fuck bush that" and "blah blah blah."
"Oh the end is near."
"Commercialism is eating our souls alive."
"Buy my album"
"Oh love me define me."
"Where's my dog? I want water. Bring me water! Oh I look fat don't I? Oh please somebody bring me some damn water. Do I still have it?"
"Oh I want you to like me."
"Oh I want to like you too but you are not in my zip code."
HENRY! I bought your goddamn albums 12+ dollars apiece.
Back then I had to work at a vet cleaning dog shit at min wage of 3.35 hour so your album was 4 hours of cleaning dog shit from sick dogs!
And then I would risk getting killed by rockers going downtown to see you live at the profilatica 2000. And then I risked getting killed by skinheads that followed you around.
The whole time being told corporate America is bad.
Corporate America is a war machine and has to be stopped.
Corporate America is killing our free speech.
We hear Henry does not do drugs or drinks and I say well if that is good for Henry then that has to be the way to go, he is so versed on the world and everything.
Then you exercise your free speech and you do a commercial for a clothing store.
A store that sells the clothes for the enemy, cookie cutter, kill individuality, same as the guy next to me clothes.
You do a commercial for the enemy.
You sold out to the other side.
Oh the despair I was flung into.
The depression that my mind sunk into
The maddening fever of betrayal that burned in my mind and caused so much self loathing that I wanted to die.
I had wasted so many years of my life.
I began to drink and do coke. I had to make up for lost time. 5 years I spent on my coke fueled binge.
The places I would wake up.
The depraved memories that would haunt me all day, until I could get fucked up again, would be oh animals and fruit of the loom underwear, things that Robert Downey Jr. could never ever have portrayed.
Oh man (LOL) the women I would find on my flop house mattress.
The sick and depraved things I did to get the money to get high. I no longer cleaned dog shit I ate dog shit!
I ATE SHIT IN A FUCKING SIDESHOW!
I ate shit in a freak sideshow held in the basement of a night club on Castro Street.
I was known as "Bubo The Dog Shit Eating Monkey Boy" three demeaning shows a night 7 nights a week.
Hook worms, round worms, whip worms. Dysentery, depression, dystopia, and distemper.
I had it all man yeah I was a fucking nut case then.
But I got better.
I found the way out of the depths of hell that was cocaine and drinking.
I learned about hate and rage and I learned that I was responsible for my self.
Then I get this E-mail today.

Mr. Sleestaxx,

Although the gap is always looking for fresh topical celebrities to promote our brand we have to admit that the demographic that would identify with "Bubo The Dog Shit Eating Monkey Boy" is too small to be of interest to us.

Thank you
Some buttmuncher whose has no clue of what is cool and what is not.

Man I hope one legged Pete is still in the same projects he was 10 years ago.