| Reba, I hate you with a
passion I can't rightly express in words. You have been depressing me for years
with your redneck yodelling to the point where I've almost committed suicide
like eight times. Your music is some of the most horrible I've ever heard of any
genre... ever. Your very birth is proof there is no god because even the most
spiteful, vengeful asshole of a deity wouldn't have the evil it takes to spawn a
person as craptastically terrible at living than you. I hate you, and I can't
stop writing it down because it's the only three words that run through my head
whenever I think of you or see your face or even associate anything with
anything that might have something to do with you. For the sake of all that's
good and holy, please give up your career and go contract something terminal. At
the very least you could give a definite answer on how to spell your last name,
I Googled it and found three or four 'confirmed' spellings. In the end I just
went with the never-fail eenie-meenie-meinee-moe theory in choosing one for the
heading of this letter. I hate you. In order to write anything in this letter
besides that phrase I had to meditate for an hour between each sentence, and
even then I had to think of something less evil than you while typing, stuff
like flowers and Hitler and Satan and junk. It's tough stuff, but I need to get
this off my chest if I'm going to get any sleep tonight. You pronounce the word
'around' in a disgusting manner, a sort of, 'UH-Rowwwwwwwwnnn' that I would
really just prefer not to hear. It's like the death cry of a retarded llama.
For years I thought it was limited to music, that I would never have to actually see your hideous face, to be subjected to you in any other form of media. Well, some cock-vomit bitchface came up with the idea to give you a TV show, bless their Neanderthal-level intelligence. When I heard about the season premiere, I cried myself to sleep for a solid week, and the only reason I didn't cry for a solid second week is that I managed to eventually console myself with the knowledge that there was no way in hell viewers could be so downright stupid enough to let your show make it past the first episode. Surely I could count on the wisdom of television viewers to give you the collective thumbs-down and send you back to whatever cesspit you crawled out of and screeched out your albums from. You've done six seasons now, six awful, hellish seasons, and the cretins eat it up like the tools they are. I never expected anyone to fall for a show with a main character so incredibly bloated with success from her own shittiness that she actually has the gall to sing the opening title for her own show. It's a horrible tune too, by the way. There is no religion for me, no one can convince me that there is a higher power now that you've shown me the truth. No god of decency or otherwise would allow you to be. Just for shits and giggles Reba (can I call you Reba? Thanks Reba), let's take a look at the first four DVD box set covers for your first four dick-smearingly downright shitty seasons. Season One:
A shit-eating grin that could easily swallow all of Texas. How lovely.
Season Two:
Hmm. An extremely similar facial expression. And by expression, I mean ugly face.
Season Three:
The jacket doesn't hide that fact that your face is sporting the exact same expression as the pictures on the first two.
Season Four:
Holy shit, is your face stuck like that or something? In closing, Reba, I would just like to say one final thing. Aside from 'I hate you,' anyway. I just want to make things clear as I can between us. You may never read my letter to you, and if you don't, well that's a crying shame. If you do however read this letter, and you make it all the way down to this end paragraph without having accidentally forked yourself in the face or remembered that you are illiterate, I want you to understand one thing: You can fool all those single-braincelled assholes and inbred fuckfaces into believing you have anything of quality to offer, but I won't have it. Take your shitty music and even shittier acting and go hang yourself. The world could do without you, or at the very least, I could. Thanks for taking time out of your personal schedule to read my letter! Yours truly, Ninja Viking
P.S. I hate you.
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