Dear LMNO

[Doktor Howl]

We have decided to reject your offer.  While we DO have a surplus of stupid po'bucker retirees, we have no use for that many Boston baked beans, nor do we actually need any more trannies (we're wall to wall, here). 

Also, our legal department is curious as to WHY you want that many useless old farts.  Don't you have any of your own?  What are you people doing with your elderly?  EATING them?

Also, a tomato is a fucking FRUIT, not a vegetable, and even if it wasn't, that's still fucking illegal, and you know it.

[LMNO]

To my distinguished collegue, Doktor Howl:

I beg you to reconsider.  Please note my responses, in reverse linear order.  This is done to account for the nutrino shift.

- A "fruit", as we all know, does not fall into the guidelines heretofore stated.  Therefore, to comply with best practices, an exception must be made to allow for this.  Additionally, we have since removed the words "sextant" and "barrel of motor oil" from the document in question, which we feel puts it in compliance with state and federal law.

- As of late, Boston has become fascinated by the oeuver of Bo Diddly, and in particular, the song "Who Do You Love".  As such, major residential renovations have been taking place; this necessitates the procurement of rather specific building materials.  All else is simply the result of generational enforcement of vestigial Puritan attitudes to spendthrift.  To be fair, what were they supposed to do, leave all that fresh meat to rot?  But I should clarify, due to the sinuous nature of the material in question, we have decided to put it to a better use, and re-launch Boston's legendary manufacturing behemoth; namely, quality tennis rackets. 

To conclude, I implore you to reconsider.  If our humble offerings are not sufficent to your needs, we would be more than happy to make an even swap of retirees for binge-drinking freshmen.  Around here, you can't swing a codger-strung tennis racket without hitting a dozen or so.

Yours,

Doktor LMNO

[Doktor Howl]

To my distinguished collegue, Doktor Howl:

I beg you to reconsider.  Please note my responses, in reverse linear order.  This is done to account for the nutrino shift.

- A "fruit", as we all know, does not fall into the guidelines heretofore stated.  Therefore, to comply with best practices, an exception must be made to allow for this.  Additionally, we have since removed the words "sextant" and "barrel of motor oil" from the document in question, which we feel puts it in compliance with state and federal law.

This may be true, but it still falls under the DHS regulations covering weaponized foodstuffs.

- As of late, Boston has become fascinated by the oeuver of Bo Diddly, and in particular, the song "Who Do You Love".  As such, major residential renovations have been taking place; this necessitates the procurement of rather specific building materials.  All else is simply the result of generational enforcement of vestigial Puritan attitudes to spendthrift.  To be fair, what were they supposed to do, leave all that fresh meat to rot?  But I should clarify, due to the sinuous nature of the material in question, we have decided to put it to a better use, and re-launch Boston's legendary manufacturing behemoth; namely, quality tennis rackets. 

You should have shoved them onto icebergs, like you used to.  Now you want OUR old people for tennis rackets?  I have no objection in principle, but you're going to be stuck with about 60 pounds of blubber per tennis racket made.  I don't see how this can possibly be cost effective.

To conclude, I implore you to reconsider.  If our humble offerings are not sufficent to your needs, we would be more than happy to make an even swap of retirees for binge-drinking freshmen.  Around here, you can't swing a codger-strung tennis racket without hitting a dozen or so.

Yours,

Doktor LMNO

I'd love to LMNO, really I would, but we don't have that much PBR and Ramen, and the local economy cannot support any more useless drunks than we already have, NOT counting the fucking Canadians who come down here every winter and drink all our whiskey.