codyjohnston:

Dear J. May,

Are you fucking kidding me, John Mayer?

Sincerely,

Cody

P.S. - Señor Johnny Depp called and he wants you to die, just like everyone else wants that about you.

P.P.S. - Juan Depp’s filthy poncho called and was all like “As a poncho, how am I using a phone or even asking this?”

P.P.P.S. - Good Old American Grit called and it wants you to get off its dusty roads because it doesn’t buy this new version of yourself that you’re apparently trying to sell it. In fact, don’t try to sell anything to Good Old American Grit, or anybody.

P.P.P.P.S. - Your mom called and she’s worried about you.

P.P.P.P.P.S. - No she’s not, because she wants you to die, just like everyone else wants that about you.

P.P.P.P.P.P.S. - Your mom called again and thought that she was a bit harsh. She doesn’t want you to die, necessarily. She’s just not a fan and thinks you’re a pretentious dirt/douche bag and also that your music is seriously pretty terrible.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. - Your mom called back and wants to apologize for that, as well, because apparently she thought it was April 1st. Her exact words: “Sorry about the early April Fools, son. I actually DO want you to die, just like everyone else wants that about you. Nice try with the music stuff, I guess.”

Sincerely,

Postscripts

I’m dying Cody