Dear Person Whose Brain Would Fit Comfortably In a Leprechaun's Skull:

How a backward bog like Ireland ever produced sharp minds like Joyce, Wilde, Beckett and Yeats is surely a mystery, but horrid circumstance must provide the crucible for great thought. In which case, you are either living an extremely comfortable life or, most likely, are simply amusingly stupid.

I realize that you probably think that irony has something to do with metallurgy, but did it dawn on you that people might interpret your "golden rule" admonition coupled with an invitation to suicide as a cry for self-annihilation? While your justifications for such are patent and plenary, kindly do not burden me with your convolutionary desperation, dear.

Before I close, I wish to say that I admire you for being honest enough to admit that you have left neither Ireland nor the Catholic Church. To be born to either is an excusable circumstance; to remain shows an inexcusable lack of judgment. Most would not be so forthright with their egregious shortcomings and I applaud your candor in this regard, dear.

So close to Jesus that the other 2/3 of the trinity have been sneering and making bad Yoko Ono jokes.