Dear Matthew DiBenedetti,
I walked past your book in the store the other day and I got all excited. It’s called “I Hate Everything” and when I saw it I let out a girlish squeal. It seemed perfect for me, I hate everything too! I was going to read it, and buy it, and we could be lifelong friends.
Then I opened the book and was instantly disappointed. It’s amazingly stupid. I know I write letters to people I hate, but I have reasons, and arguments, and humor. Your book just has one liners about things you hate. Like how there’s no good place to pick your nose. WTF? Pick your nose at home when no one else is around. Problem solved, jackass. Your book is a cheap knock-off of Shit My Dad Says. That book has a guy hating everything, and it’s fucking hilarious. It has a story and a place on the bestsellers list. Your book is made up of things an old man would mumble to his nurse as he fades away and dies.
At first your cover was funny - a rainbow, a cute penguin, a bright yellow smiley face - but it got old after two seconds. Ohhh, irony, how fucking original. I hope your book gets lost in the humor section and then sent back to the publisher when no one buys it.
I may have equal hatred for the idiot who wrote a review for your book on Amazon. It was “funny and an easy read”, really? What humor book isn’t an easy read? Are Dave Barry’s sentences so long you forget how they started by the time you hit the period? He said he couldn’t stop turning the pages, it’s not a difficult task to fly through a book when there are an average of 9 words on a page.
You’re ruining the art of proper hate. It requires technique and finesse. You aren’t providing a funny “slant on those everyday events we often overlook but are just plain Funny!” (sic), you’re a crotchety old bald guy one step away from talking about how airplane food sucks. Maybe you do “write” about that in the book, I didn’t have the same page turning compulsion as your rave reviewer.
I hope next time you’re driving and picking your nose you do get rear-ended and your finger lodges somewhere in your brain rendering you unable to type. That way I won’t have to see “Everything Else I Hate” six months from now.
Sincerely,
Kelly
