Bobby Answers The Mail

Time to answer my fan mail, people. I've been holding it all week because I wanted to wait until I had at least three interesting questions/ thoughts. I get so many letters that are just "Bobby, you're so hot ... Bobby, you're such a genius ... Bobby, how do you manage to be so cool all the time."
Trust me, people, flattery is okay but it wears thin after awhile. If you would like for me to answer your fan mail in this forum, you're going to have to be interesting. This site is generating more traffic than Foxx news; I can't afford to let the audience down with anything mundane. Now, onto the mail:

Dear B-dog:
I am Ms. Hoboken, New Jersey, 2003. I was wondering if you'd like to go out sometime.

XOXOXO,
Cindy Ramatuzzi

Dear Hoboken Ramatuzzi:
No.


Dear Bobby:
I'm a long-time fan. Love the show. I notice that you distrust Frenchies. Why is that? It makes me feel bad that you don't like Frenchies because I am one -- I majored in French studies, and I even lived in Paris for a year. It is a beautiful city. Perhaps you are being too hard on me and my kind? We really aren't that bad.

Truly,
Elmer Smith

Dear Frenchie:
Whoa. I never said I dislike you people. I just said I don't trust you.
If the French were so smart they'd speak English. You folks -- you Frenchies, as I've said before, were brought up to speak English. You're not even really French. You're Americans like me, yet you always like to run around with your strange foreign words. It's like you're secretly plotting with each other in a code that the rest of us don't understand. What are you plotting? Do you want to steal my gold? Do you? Is that what you're all about?
The French language sounds sneaky. Spanish doesn't. German doesn't (of course, German sounds incredibly aggressive, but not sneaky). Why don't you people speak Spanish? Or for those of you with a lot of pent-up aggression, German?
I've got my eye on all you Frenchies. All of you.


Dear Bobby:
Jive to the monkey has changed my life. No more do I live in a jumble of confusion and despair. How did you discover such a great philosophical system?

Keep Up The Good Work,
Monica Nesbitt

I'm so glad you've stepped into the light, Monica. I'll tell you, it took many years of fighting "the man" before I became jive. I wish I could get those years back, but that's another story. Just spilled milk, really.
I let the monkey weigh me down for a long time, Monica. He was really heavy. I was going to the chiropractor all the time for adjustments, which were almost impossible because the monkey wouldn't get off my back enough for the chiropractor to work his magic hands on my spine. The monkey actually ended up receiving most of the adjustments meant for me. My chiropractor didn't even realize he was adjusting the monkey on my back. He just thought I had a really hairy back.
One day I was watching "American Dreams" on NBC. The girls were dancing on American Bandstand. I started to dance along, there in my living room. I noticed that my monkey started getting sick. It was all he could do to hang on. He seemed much lighter while I was dancing.
It dawned on me, "Why not dance all the time? This monkey will be forever off-balance that way." So that's just what I started to do, and I've been doing it ever since.


That's enough mail for now folks. Have a great day, and keep the cards and letters coming. If I use your mail on this forum, you could win a can of beets. One letter-writer per week will win the beets. This week's winner was Cindy Ramatuzzi, because I feel bad for totally shutting her down.

Peace Out,
B-dog, the Sweet Daddy Howl.