…I want to talk to you about your letter, and how you took on some of the things written in the article called “South Park Monster” by John Nova Lomax.
When I was going to court, there was always this fat dude sitting where the public sits to listen to trials. He was eight notches past ugly, hairy in the face with glasses that only added insult to injury. He was usually the first person to sit in the benches and I often nodded to him as a greeting. He always gave a friendly nod back.
Little did I know that this was the owner of the Houston Press, a wildly popular newspaper that was free to the public. I actually attended the Houston Press Music Awards at a restaurant in Houston two years before. I won six awards, which was more than any artist to date. Each time I won, I thanked different people and made a few wisecracks as I’ve been known to do.
But no one at Dope house had any sense to say, “Hey, Carlos, make sure to thank John Lomax since he owns this paper, and set this show up.” I didn’t even realize some fat, ugly dude was in the audience getting angrier and angrier at my failure to recognize him. By the time I won my fifth and sixth award, I was thanking the fucking waiters who were bringing me my ice cold Coronas. Sadly, and unknowingly, I walked out the door and into my limousine without even shaking the dude’s hand.
I continued to blow the fuck up in Houston and, at times, wondered why the Houston Press never gave me a front cover. They did for other bullshit bands, so why not me– the dude that swept their award show. By-the-way, I still have all these awards.
When I found out about the “South Park Monster” article, it all became clear. I finally got my front cover, but the fat bitch gave it to me as the foe he had become. I doubt he has written a more complex article to this day.
The cover was a huge, colorful image of my face, and inside the pupil’s of my eyes was the image of a little girl on a bike. I’m sure it was one of his proudest accomplishments.