Adam J. Whitlatch

I turned on my computer this evening to find a VERY angry email waiting for me. This particular letter comes from the Internet’s favorite whackadoo: Nickolaus Pacione!

First, some context for the letter from my friend and editor Jerrod Balzer’s blog: http://jerrodbalzer.com/love-nickolaus-pacione/

As most of you know, I’m studying to become an English teacher. This presents the perfect opportunity to practice my skills. And now, without further ado, the letter (my notes in red):

Next time you talk shit about me around (On, not around. I was clearly ON the site.) Jerrod Balzer’s site, know a little bit about the back history why I did (The correct verb here would be “wrote.”) that kind of e-mail to him (I do. You have a limited knowledge of copyright law). The slanderous drunken (Jerrod never drinks… wine.) fat fuck is promoting a (Unnecessary determiner) goddamned (two words, Nicky) plagiarism of my science ffiction (one “f”) series that I call Lake Fossil. Do you really want to really (Redundant use of “really.”) associate Lake Fossil with Brian Keene or do you want it to be asscoiated (it’s spelled “associated”) with the person who truly created the science fiction series (To be honest, I don’t give a shit either way. This is YOUR problem, Baby Bear, not mine.).

If you say the other — you deserved (Verb tense confusion) to be punched in the throat (Ow.) because you’re pretty much locked (I’m not locked in. I can leave whenever I want to, but the gas station makes awesome pizza. So who’d want to?) into one of those backward hick towns like some faggot (I prefer the term “snappy dresser.”). That domain the fat fuck linkeed (one “e,” Nicky) up is a mockery of my publishing comapny (It’s spelled “company.” And you don’t need any help from Jerrod to make a mockery of it. That’s pretty much what the Internet is for these days.). I’ve put years into this company and I will not let Jerrod take a shit all over it (I don’t blame you… he drops some nasty bombs. I think it’s the chili. Mmmmm… chili.) — he actually fucks with people with a mental illness on a regular basis so what I done (Wrong form of the verb “DO,” Nicky.) is made it blow up back in his face.

So next time you slander (slander is SPOKEN, Nicky. And calling you a whackadoo is not slander. It’s merely an insult. You’re a big boy; you can take it.) the FUCK out of me (missing comma) backward (I have no problem walking forward, thank you.) hick (I prefer the term Appalachian American.), do your fucking reasearch (The correct spelling is “research.”) and have an informed opinion (I did. I was informed by numerous sources that you are a complete whackadoo. That’s an “informed opinion.”) on me instead of looking at me in the light that fat fuck sees me as (In, not as.).

Well! That was fun, wasn’t it, boys and girls? But I’m afraid this missive is going to have to get a big, fat F. Try again, Nicky. I look forward to hearing from you. Sleep well, Baby Bear.

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