I know the woman who wrote the letter in the Post-Dispatch that I commented on last Thursday. Her letter was published on Wednesday, so she was not surprised when she received a letter in the mail on Thursday from an anonymous writer who has commented on every letter she’s published over the last ten or fifteen years. Her husband gets similar letters.
She figures it’s the same guy anyway. It’s the same puerile sentiments and handwriting, though his spelling has greatly improved over the years. (He still hasn’t acquainted himself with the use of periods, though.)
She gives the writer credit for being literally as dependable as the U.S. Postal Service. She’s spoken to other people who receive the same dubious attention whenever they publish a letter, so who knows how much moola this character has dropped on the Postal Service over the last few decades.
If she ever gets a letter published and doesn’t get a response from him, she’ll figure he either died or suffered a massive stroke. At first, his mean spirited letters made her nervous, but by now she almost feels a perverse affection for the dipshit. So go ahead and sign your letters, mister. She won’t sic the cops on you.