Situation Normal. Atmosphere Breathable. Brainstem Injected. Dialogue Engaged.
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Tuesday, July 12, 2005

Dead Letter Shrapnel - Tupac

This is the third letter. I was chatting with Michelle on Sunday night when I hatched this idea, so I promised her a letter from anybody she wanted. She chose Tupac. So this is the third personalized letter.

Return Address:
Tupac Shakur
Heaven Got A Ghetto

Michelle ********
***** ********** **
Arlington Heights, IL *****


Michelle,

Tupac here, straight up. I know you think it's whack gettin a letter from a dead thug, but it ain't, trust me. Everything in this life has a purpose. Even weird shit in the mail like this. I gotta holla at ya. I got a whole new perspective from chillin here beyond the grave for nine mothafuckin years. After those bustas shot me five times in 94, I told the whole world real niggaz don't die. Now I know that shit ain't true. Now I know that life is precious. That's why I gotta lay it out for ya.

Don't get me wrong. I'm proud of my life. I was a boss playa, fuckin bitches, blazin shit, livin life raw. Thug passion was my way. But that shit ain't for just anybody. And before I was up on that, I was learning ballet and performing in theatre. No bullshit, baby. I know both sides of the tracks. And if I had any little children, any little Tupacs, I woulda rasied em right.

We need more folks like you helpin sheperd those young ones on the right path to choose in life. I know you school little babies and shit at the daycare, and that's good, cause you gotta start em young. You gotta teach they ass to study hard and obey they parents. You gotta teach em love and compassion, not playa hatin, ballin, and gettin over. Nurture that shit. Steer them away from the life of an outlaw.

Now I know you're a skinny pale ass little white ho, but I gotta say DAMN! Bitch you fine as hell. If I was still rollin, I'd be all up in that ass all across ya crib. If not, I'd be writin you some dirty ass letters like this one from Clinton Correctional Facilites. If the police peeped me cappin Stretch Walker. They didn't though, cuz they can't see me.

Even if you decide to give up on those children, I want you know I ain't mad at ya. You already made a big difference out there. So keep ya head up. Go get yours, if that be the case.

Mad love to you baby.

Picture me rollin,
10:32 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm

8 Comments:

July 12, 2005 11:04 AM, Blogger Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm said...

Brad Wins! Awesome.

I won't promise all of these, but I will keep track and see what I can swing. Here's the list of requests:

Shakespeare to Alecia
Dangerfield or Rick James to my sister
Janis Joplin to Biased Opinion
Graham Chapmen to Karen
Jonathan Brandis to Blake
Reagan or Nixon to Ectoplasm

 
July 12, 2005 11:16 AM, Blogger Other Brother said...

...but Tupac's not really dead, right? He's just hiding out until the time is right. Isn't he?

If you ever get around to writing one for me, I'd like on of these:
John Wayne
Tom Landry
Vince Lombardi
Jesus Christ
or
Stevie Ray Vaughn

 
July 12, 2005 11:48 AM, Blogger Anonysis said...

Return Address: Charlie Chaplin
Heaven

Dear Steve:
---

Charlie.

 
July 12, 2005 12:48 PM, Blogger Lance Manion said...

Word!

You a gangsta 4 life, homes.

 
July 12, 2005 2:34 PM, Blogger OldHorsetailSnake said...

You good shizolater, Steve. Tupac is a riot. Funneeee!!

 
July 12, 2005 2:44 PM, Blogger alix said...

"You gotta teach they ass..."

ROFL!!!! that was the best line!
dang. can i think up a request?

 
July 12, 2005 2:46 PM, Blogger alix said...

btw, the signatures are a very nice touch.
i would SO buy a book like this... :)

 
July 13, 2005 1:29 PM, Blogger Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm said...

My sister wins a prize, too. Well done!

 

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