Letter from the Editor

I recently “tied the knot” with a real Ride or Die bitch. As a gift, our generous friend, Mr. Jordan, provided floral arrangements for the bridal party and even supplied the men with masculine boutonnieres; however, he was unable to attend the festivities and witness the happy couple defecate on tradition, exchange championship belts instead of rings and make the officiant declare us "Tag Team Champions for Life." The following is a letter— a thank you card of sorts— I wrote to him:

Greetings, Mr. Jordan.

The intention of this correspondence is to serve as an expression of gratitude - a billet-doux for my sweet petunia - an epistle of appreciation for your commitment to excellence, good sir. Thank you. You went above and beyond. Because of your generosity, our wedding was able to meet the lavish expectations of a classy, modern society with a 40-60 percent divorce rate.

We sincerely wish you could have been there to share our joy. Here’s a quick recap: We exchanged vows by sacrificing furry woodland creatures at a black altar, the dinner music consisted of power ballads such as Tesla’s “Love Song” and Slaughter’s “Fly to the Angels,” and, during the reception, we poked a naked Mexican woman with sticks while trying to summon the Beast with some Latin chanting in B-sharp. Good times. Good times.

You’re aces, kid. We look forward to seeing you soon. This message will self-destruct.