Hope this card finds you well (haha).
That was just a little goofy banter from the good folks down at Gargoyle, because obviously you’re not doing well, you’re in the hospital. A knish, I hear? Again? Now that’s just adding insult to injury. Which is nothing like what you’ll be seeing from the rest of this card. All smiles from here on out, we pinky swear.
The truth is, Marky, we admire you; however, be sure to keep in mind that our organization and what we stand for is the journalistic equivalent of fetid, radioactive pond scum, and that the foremost clause in this sentence is, indeed, a mistruth. You couldn’t have possibly forgotten our last note could you? We were sure that you would frame it and put it on your nightstand. You silly little goober, for someone who went to both Princeton and Johns Hopkins you sure aren’t very savvy with various forms of electronic or printed formal communication, or so it seems. I only wish you’d use a personal email so that we didn’t have to keep publishing these notes in a magazine, makes it somewhat awkward when it’s seen by the public eye, no?
Oh, by the way, unrelated, tough stuff about the whole getting fired thing. It’s like they say, better now than later! Or, better to have your role be preemptively terminated due to an illicit relationship with a subordinate than retire peacefully at the end of the year in (relative) grace! Maybe that was just wishful thinking anyways. Hehe, Schlistful thinking…
Like some of our mothers taught us, if we don’t have anything nice to say, we shouldn’t say anything at all. We didn’t have anything nice to say in the first place, but we are now going to conclude this lovely little soliloquy (it could have been plain old dialogue if you just shared your personal email with us) with the latter part.
Maybe try and stay out of the news for a while this time.
XOXOXO,
Garg
*Note from the Publisher: After reading this heartfelt and philanthropic gesture of sheer kindness and good will, Former University President Mark Schlissel experienced a blunt, unlubed object repeatedly shoved down his throat, unrelated to the gentle wave of caring and uplifting dialogue supplied as condolences from the good people at the Gargoyle Humor Magazine, and passed away shortly after, his last moments spent wishing there was more foreplay, or maybe at least a condom.
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