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So this morning I’m waiting at the T station like normal, correction, I was waiting like normal until this guy comes around and loudly greets everybody with a cheery good morning. Now who the hell does that so early in the morning? But me, like a complete idiot with his unthinking reflexes, greets him back. Well, that was the path I chose, the one that leads to a ruined commute to work, which usually is uneventful and quite solemn. It is the effing morning after all, people should leave each other the hell alone, I wasn’t built for mornings.

So then this guy just starts chatting it up with me and at this point I’m cursing my mother for raising me so well since I’m responding all too politely. Turns out he’s a telemarketer that “sells” Republicans. Honestly… does it look like I know crap about politics? I’ll just vote for whoever cares about the environment, technology, and doesn’t want to kill and/or coerce people. Everything else I chalk up to my “ignorance is bliss” argument.

Eventually he asks if there is such a thing as a gay gene (I think I tossed out the fact that I work in genetic research earlier in the conversation). And mind you, this is inside the train as we’re traveling and he is a loud talker… in the morning! Who does that…? Well, I respond in my groggy fashion with something about there not being a straight gene (not one that we know about, or maybe we do, what the hell do I know, I just wanted to go back to sleep).

So then the conversation steers into how he thinks gays shouldn’t get married and should only have civil unions since the word “marriage” itself is only given by the church. Well he dropped that line of argument quickly when I mentioned my religious views, then he stuck out his hand, thanked me for speaking to him in a civil fashion, and we continued to wait for a couple minutes for my stop.

Also, did I mention that he said that people shouldn’t vote for Obama because he’ll be assassinated in two years? Yeah, I think I might have forgotten to mention that, his exact words by the way.

That’s correct, that’s a scan of a psychotic letter I received recently in the mail.

Sender unknown? Check
Addressed to TB? Check
Sent from the middle of nowhere? Check
All my friends are truly oblivious of this? Check

So if you or anybody you know hates me (likely) and lives in Pierre, South Dakota (unlikely), please contact me:
tb AT binarytuberculosis DOT com

I was a little freaked out when I got this letter, opening it up late at night didn’t help, but going to straight to bed and forgetting about it did help. And it really was sent from Pierre, South Dakota, the USPS date stamp confirms it. That’s a bit hard to forge.

So what did I end up doing about this? Call the police? Call my mother? Move? Get aroused? Go CSI on the letter’s arse? Nay! I lazied out, contacted one person to see if she was lame enough to send me this letter (yes, she was lame enough and no, she didn’t send it) and then forgot about it. Figured if I was going to die or if it is some really strange prank, nothing I can really do about it except wait it out.

As of today it has been 15 days since the letter was mailed and nobody has come forward and I’m still alive. If you don’t hear from me after this post, well, I’m probably dead. If you do hear from me after this post, then I wish you were dead.