Dear Dumbass

This was written by Paul's friend Sarah four years ago.  She just reprinted it on Facebook.  I think it still works today, the 14th anniversary of Paul's death:

dear dumbass,

so i have a big piece of pooh in my butt and i need to get it out.

i am a little late with this letter, i guess. i guess i should have written it on monday, tuesday or wednesday or whatever. i didn't. i was busy wiping tears, being mad, making sandos, and smelling the air.

the air.
it has smelled the same for the past ten years.
before, it smelled like baseball, spring,the pence, sex,sneezes and jasmine.
after, it smells like
shock
anger
wind
loss
confusion
denial
whiskey
and dead you.

i don't know why. 

i don't want to know. if you meant it, it makes you sad. if you didn't, it makes you pathetic. 

how many times did i have to count you down from ten when some one (dmtc) dumb did something stupid? i still can't believe that you did something SO FUCKING STUPID.

i told you; if you want to, i'll do it. that way you get it done and i get to do it.
is that what you meant when you left the shortest message on record(from you) on my machine?

"i have a piece of pooh in my butt".

a week prior.

the message struck me as strange. usually you would have gone into LENGTHY(hehe) detail about the pooh. you would have told me of its girth. you would have laughed. you would have told me EXACTLY what i needed to do to help you get it out. you would have laughed. that laugh. you would have, perhaps, told me if any of it had gotten out of your butt yet, and how much. how it smelled. how it was going to taste in the poohburger that you were going to make for me. you would have asked me if i wanted cheese. . . sauce. you would have laughed.

i didn't call you back. the message struck me as strange but not strange enough to CALL YOU BACK. the truth is, i was screening you in the first fucking place. the next thing i knew, the air smelled different and the sparkles in the sidewalk cement no longer delighted my eyes.

there is a lot to tell you. the world isn't even funny anymore, i mean it is funny but it is also crazy. remember watching movies about the future like, mad max or escape from new york? remember the mutants and sociopaths and gas wars and random shootings? welcome to 2009. not quite, but we are on our merry way to a very dangerous future. i mean,fuck, i am writing you this "note" on facebook.com. a social network that feeds and feeds and feeds and feeds. it doesn't feed us, it feeds on us.

you missed idiocracy. it is a movie by mike judge. it is truth. and to tell you the truth, it is funny. it is fucking hilarious.

the time that would have been your future has been pretty goddamn fucking funny. i have to say the talks would have been EPIC. i would need a 4,000 foot deep sink overflowing with dishes to completely catch up with you. plus we would have to have SEVERAL meetings about the thing and the other thing up on the roof(after we broke in).

you didn't know it, but you were a knight to me. you rescued my mind. when my mind swam with thoughts and i was drowning in a world that looked at me like a confused puppy (head all cocked to the side), you got me. you rescued me. you told me, "you get me, sarah. you GET me", and i pulled a han solo:"i know", trying my hardest to be cool. i tried my hardest to keep it from you. to keep my admiration for you, from you. to play it cool. to play it FUCKING cool. shit, you got me. you GOT me. i found in you a friend that will never be equaled. we were rare. our talks. our trips to the hardware store, for nothing. our trips to the speedboat dealership, to pretend. i will always be grateful that you spent that time with me. ALWAYS. and when i moved away, 3 hour phone conversations twice a week and sometimes more. you were family. i can only hope that you knew it. since the time we danced in the booth to the age of aquarius- to that last message; i can say that i had a fast friend, a bosom buddy in you. no matter the matter ,you were just a phone call away. i fell in love with you as a brother as a person as a friend. i fell hard. then you pushed me and a lot of others into the abyss. it took me 5 years to even believe you were really gone and 5 years to accept it. i believe it now.

so, fuck you paul.

love,
skc