Dear Rusty,

[OilemFirchen]

Long time listener, first time writer.

At the end of today's show you encouraged everyone to enjoy their weekend, suggesting that the best way to do so would be to "pretend you're me".

So I took your advice, as I always do, and got an early start. After downing a fistful of oxycontin, I cruised Miami Beach looking for an evening's twink. Less than an hour after we hit the sack, my third wife stormed in, demanding a divorce. I'm just now swallowing the last bit of a Partagas Salomon that a friend of a friend of Jeb's smuggled in.

I'm sick to my stomach, the room is spinning, I'm out about $500 (plus 50% of my estate) and my anal cyst is throbbing.

Frankly, I was gonna do some hunting and try to pick up chicks at the Ayn Rand Days Festival, but I know you're never wrong. It's now 7:14 P.M. and I'm not sure I can take two more days of this.

Just curious... when does the fun start?

- Your biggest fan