NOT DR. PHIL SAYS:


DEAR SWEDISH MEATBALL,

When I first received this e-mail, I found it so incoherent and incomprehensible that I thought that Chad or Jesse had created a Letters Meant for Dr. Phil Random Letter Generator . . . Impressed, I called each of them to offer congratulations.  Neither of them knew what I was talking about.  I realized that either this was an actual letter, or Chad and Jesse were really fucking with me.  Man, I hate those guys.

Anyway, hey there, Ingrid, or whatever your name is!  I know a little Swedish from watching old episodes of the Muppets, so let me be the first to say, "Yorky yorky dorky yorky doo!"

This letter is exceedingly odd, or as you like to call it "a tiny strange".  Oddly, Tiny Strange is the name I gave my penis.  Ha, aren't I bawdy?

This e-mail almost seems as if you were replying to an e-mail that was sent to you.  I did not send such a letter, but I think I'll make one up now, in order to clarify the message you sent me.  Read this before the letter above, and I think some of the loose ends will be tied up:

Dear Helga, the Swedish Lady,
Hey, could you send me an email that makes absolutely no fucking sense? 

Kisses,
Not Dr. Phil

See, in this context, I can now accept the letter on its own terms.  I've given myself closure by living in a fantasy world.  Hm, maybe I COULD give advice like Dr. Phil!

Yurgen gergen flurgen,
Not Dr. Phil