Tuesday, March 28, 2017


James B. Comey? This is Dear. I woke up several hours ago but I haven't eaten yet. I had this dream. I was looking good in a bikini, snorting cocaine. I love falling asleep because when I'm awake not much happens. I go to Planet Fitness sometimes but only for a few minutes. All those televisions intimidate me. I think they can see inside my soul. It's a trash heap. Burn baby burn. Burn calories. Burn basura. I'm not Ariel at all. I don't rise to any occasion but put a karaoke mic in one hand a frozen margarita in the other and damn, son. I've got bigger balls than Jose Alfredo Jimenez. James B. Comey, la vida no vale nada. Do you believe this or are you busy with a turkey sandwich and a Swedish massage? I know shit is more stressful than usual lately. Are you still in Africa? Which is worse, James B. Comey? Killing a lion then posting pictures of a big smile and a dead lion all over social media or letting a white trash talking Cheeto run One Of The Greatest Nations Ever Constructed into the fracking infused dirt? I was born a coal miner's daughter. I've got Cherokee on both sides. Amarillo by mornin' up from San Antone. Deep within my corazon lies a melody. West Virginia. Oklahoma. The Irish comes from my paternal grandmother. Cherokee and French come from my maternal grandmother. Scottish and Swiss come from my maternal grandfather. Cherokee and something else I've forgotten come from my paternal grandfather. I'm a rainbow, James B. Comey. No one believes me. I'd love to be able to say,"Bitch, I'm brown!" I'd love to be able to say,"Bitch, I'm red!" It isn't polite to say,"Bitch! I'm white!" I don't FEEL white, James B. Comey but that's a matter for my invisible analyst, Koko Loko. The truth is, Jimmy, I'm a self-loathing cracker from the North Texas sticks. No one gives a fuck about Bridgeport, Texas. Pero. But. Bullshit Rodeo continues. I'm still walking the earth. Is that rude of me? Should I stop? Should I go on, eating peaches, talking about Michelangelo, singing with the mermaids? I have really long hair. I am not about to cut it.

Love & Mrs. Baird's Fried Pies,

Misti Velvet Rainwater-Lites

(I only speak in monologues lately.)
(This is also a love letter.)


NW WASHINGTON, D.C. 20535-0001
E-Mail: f_bi_investigation@usa.com

Our Ref: FBI /0N8/CONTRACT NO.856.
Motto: Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity

Greetings My Dear

This is James B.Comey,the current Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation(FBI), We are here in Africa as an FBI/ United States delegate that have been delegated to investigate fraudsters who are in the business of swindling Foreigners that has transactions in Africa.

Please be informed that during our investigations we found out that there is a total amount of $12.5 Million that has been assigned in your name as the beneficiary but those fraudsters are busy swindling you without any hope of receiving your fund,these are the works of the people who needed to extort money from you in the name of this transfer,We have to inform you that we have arrested some men in respect of this delayed over due fund. I have a very limited time to stay in Africa here so I advise you urgently respond to this message .

These criminals will be caught unaware and we don't want them to know this new development to avoid jeopardizing our investigation,you need to conceal anything that has to do with this exercise to enable us get all the necessary information we required.

I shall be expecting your swift response as soon as you receive this email and notify us of any message or phone call you receive from those people for us to investigate on it before you make any contact with them.

In case if found this message in spam folder, it could be due to your Internet Service Provider, ISP. So kindly move to your inbox before replying.



Dear Misti Rainwater-Lites,

Thank you for using ExceptGC - 14 Day Trial. This email is to inform you that your subscription status has been recently updated and any ongoing or all future charges have been cancelled as per your request.

If you have any questions about the cancellation of this subscription, or if you would like to re-activate the same in the future, please feel free to contact our Customer Service team.
Keep fit & have fun!
Exceptional Garcinia Cambogia Support Team
Questions? Please contact us at (866) 313-8396


In Hollywood big heads and lollipop stick bodies
are all the rage.
Advocare, bitches.
Exceptional Garcinia.
Karen Carpenter.
Amy Winehouse.
Valley of the Fucking Dolls.
Black coffee.
The goal is to give your pallbearers
an easy fucking job.
This morning I dreamed I looked
really fucking amazing in a bikini.
The man I still love the man I never
should have loved
but I'm a delusional starry eyed bitch
was so thrilled to have me again
he crossed himself after fucking me again
for the first time in two years,
said,"Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, mi amor."
Two weeks later it was,"You need to lose that stomach."
It's a common dilemma.
The pussy is phenomenal.
Everything else has to go.
So this morning I nibbled the clickbait
because after waking up from the bikini dream
I thought,"Yeah. If I look like THAT
all my problems will magically disappear."
I looked damn good in the bikini
and the promoter gave me a rock of cocaine
and I said,"That's really big. This is my first time."
And I snorted and my brain was finally working!
Wow. Magic. Wow. Finally. Success at last
after four decades of fat ass failure.
The American Dream squared.
The American Dream cubed.
The American Dream orbed.
The American Dream. Googolplex Edition.
Order # 5057302.
I had to verbally abuse the CSR,
put on my best Talking Cheeto impersonation
to get my goddamn $4.99 back.
You can Google and find things.
You can drink apple cider vinegar.
You can drink green tea straight.
No goddamn stevia.
Live on kale.
Live on spinach.
No goddamn feta.
You already knew this.
We forget things.
We drive down 1604 sobbing off
our Maybelline because it's hard
being a mujer in San Antonio
on $800 a month and maxed out
credit cards and prayers to Selena.
No bonita salon hair.
Balayage MY ASS.
Get your nails done in San Francisco
once a year. BOOM.
You're a narcissist.
Everyone sees stuff.
Everyone judges.
Endless selfies.
"Bitch is doin' GOOD."
Is major depression a valid diagnosis?
Is any bitch NOT depressed?
Self-publish those secrets.
Color code that shit.
Eyes don't work as well
as they used to.
The idiot wind howls
and the ice melts
and the talking Cheetos
inherit the fucked up the ass
without so much as a dab of Vaseline
earth and all that matters
(forget Aleppo)
(forget drones)
(forget Russia)
(forget T.S. Eliot as prophet)
(what the fuck do poets know?)
is how good a bitch looks
in a goddamn bikini.
Burn baby burn.
It's free to run.
It's easy to shit.
It's Sesame Street for the conscience deprived.
Sociopaths unite!
Be ugly.
Be cuddly.
But be really fucking PBS about it.