Dear Murry Forktongue,
I am writing to you to pay homage to your work with "Cranionoodle." In my opinion, your drumming is the best there is, especially after your accident with CrackCo's sugar plant. I hope your day job there has been a breeze, but I know that your real enjoyment comes from the band.
Since emerging from the ground, the world has been a very confusing place. Chocolate boats, comedian newscasters and oil spills continue to perplex me. Listening to your music gives me a way to navigate this crazy place. You guys really have a way of knowing how to read the times, it continues to blow me away (even more so than the first time I was blown away, way back when by the meteor).
In the midst of my commendments, I should get to one of the main reasons that I am writing to you today. About a month and a half ago, I was strumming my belly plates, just kind of whistling to myself, and this big, bearded man came up to me and frightened me real bad. Luckily, I had your CD. I went right away to "Blood Guns and Kool Aide," where your drumming is way intense. You scared him away in nothing flat. In other words, you saved my life. Thank you.
Much love to you and your magic band,
Kosmoceratops
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