Dear Lazy Writers,

I was going to address this letter to "Lazy People Who Can't Be Arsed To Use Proper Grammar And Spelling Because They Want Us To Believe That They Are Too Busy To Do So Or Because They Think it Makes Them Look Cooler Than They Really Are," but that's ridiculously long and probably won't even fit in the title field.

I see you Lazy Writers a lot in forums. Somebody will post a relatively well-written question, such as "How can I change the hardware address of my PC?" You will then reply to this with something almost lolcattish:

u cant do that bc its burnt into ur rom u get new card n use that one

Maybe your answer was technically correct, but I'm certain that almost 99% of people reading that thread are going to ignore whatever it was you were trying to say. Why? Because you look like a moron. Not cool, but a moron.

Are you really so pressed for time that you can't afford the few extra seconds that it would take to not sound like a moron? You obviously must have some very important things that you ought to be doing, but then why are you spending time answering questions on a forum? I guess those things can't be all that important after all.

In conclusion, dear Lazy Writers, stop being so lazy if you want people to take you seriously.

Sincerely,

The Electronic Replicant

Dear Tequila,

Do you recall why I told you, all those years ago, that I never wanted to see you again? Well, I do.

The only reason I spent any time at all with you last night was because you were with some good friends of mine. It had been so long since we'd seen one another that I forgot the terrible things you are capable of. Why, I recently even began to wonder if I hadn't been misjudging you all this time. I had thought that maybe things had changed, that perhaps you had changed.

I was wrong.

You haven't changed a bit.

So, dear Tequila, if you come near me again, I'll have you arrested.

Sincerely,

The Electronic Replicant

Dear Readers,

Do you ever get the feeling that you're being watched?

Me too!

Sincerely,

The Electronic Replicant

Dear People Parking Across The Street,

If I had the power to paint that curb red, I'd have done it already. If I could put up "No Parking" signs, I'd be out there with a jackhammer right now. If I had a fake fire hydrant, or even a ready supply of traffic cones, I'd set them out.

Why? The sun, dear People Parking Across The Street, the sun. The shiny bits of your car catch the cheerful sunlight just so, focusing it into laser-like beams of natural daylight, which are then reflected directly into my eyeballs. Try as I might to avoid these blinding beams of pure sunshine, the only escape seems to be to drape my arm melodramatically across my face...

If you could simply never park under my window during daylight hours ever again, I would greatly appreciate it.

Sincerely,

The Electronic Replicant

Dear Vertical Blinds,

As a window covering, you leave much to be desired. No matter how I twist them or turn them, your slats always seem to leave gaps through which sunlight can enter and through which people can peer. You jam up at the slightest provocation. Let's not even mention how fragile the fingers holding up your gap-toothed slats are.

In my opinion, dear Vertical Blinds, you are useless! How I hate you!

Sincerely,

The Electronic Replicant

Dear Person Chatting Up The Barista,

Congratulations, you've earned yourself an Electronic Replicant Cease and Desist Notice. Perhaps you haven't noticed, but the barista isn't standing behind the counter to make conversation. She is back there to sell coffee, which she can't do with you sitting in front of the counter like a giant toadstool with a blabbering mouth.

Don't tell me that you're only trying to brighten her day. As someone who once spent a lot of time on the far side of the counter, let me tell you that everyone on that side dreads the person who obliviously holds up the line. Why? For some reason, it irritates those waiting behind, and as a result, they become ever so slightly more rude as the seconds tick by. Thus your idle conversation will probably result in a net darkening of this poor barista's day.

In conclusion, dear Person Chatting Up The Barista, please execute your transaction with efficiency and courtesy, and then step out of the way. If we all did that, we'd make her job that much easier, and her day would be that much nicer.

Sincerely,

The Electronic Replicant

Dear Person With An Excessively Busy Page,

Although I might have liked your content and might have considered looking at more of it, the design of your site makes me doubt this. I'm not talking about the layout and the colors, which are most likely fine.

No, I'm talking about the five or six visible Flash ads scattered around your page. I'm also talking about that ridiculous fluttering page curl thingy at the upper right of your page. I'm talking about all the JavaScript that pulls in all the ads from your affiliates, the JavaScript in the forms in the iframes generated by all your affiliates, not to mention the excessive JavaScript used in your own forms and menus.

When I try to scroll down your page and find the information I came to find, the page lurches along as though it's in rush-hour traffic. I can only assume that the page is still loading, because even if I leave the browser alone, the elements on your page are still shuffling around and trying to figure out where they belong.

Let me tell you, the only way I'm going to click on one of your sponsors now is by accident. Especially if you've got a SitePal that won't shut up.

Sure, you could employ the flutter-down dialog box, and put a bunch of Greeked text up and tell me that I have to register to see the real info, but that's not going to help your case. In fact, I'll probably make a note to never visit your site again.

Then again, Person With An Excessively Busy Page, you may not have any ads. You might instead have an animated page header and a motion-sickness inducing animated background. You probably also have a pile of (auto playing?) YouTube clips, an animated 3-d avatar doing the Robot, a shoutbox, a poll, a recent visitors log, a playlist widget, a library widget, a favorite movies widget, a slide show, a virtual pet, and a hit counter, each a service provided by a different Internet entity.

You do realize that these things don't just pop fully-formed out of a few characters of HTML on their own, don't you? Each extra goodie you amuse yourself with means that your reader's browser has to make a jump across the Internet to get that goodie, and then think about what to do with it, and then do it. While a couple of goodies might not be a big deal, when you pile them om, it starts to add up.

Sincerely,

The Electronic Replicant

Dear Person Talking To Me,

Although I normally avoid sports analogies, I feel that a good conversation is like a game of table tennis or perhaps volleyball. I send a few thoughts to you, ping, then, pong, you send a few thoughts back, then, ping, I send a few different thoughts to you. The players want to keep the volley going for as long as possible, for once the ball hits the ground, the round is over.

You seem to think that a conversation is like a game of football. I throw a few thoughts your way, but then you grab hold of them and run as far as you can, shouldering aside anybody who dares step into your path. You might eventually reach the goal at the end of your wild tangent, if nobody chases you down, shoves you over, and pries the ball from your vise-like grip. When you get to your goal, you'll probably even do a little victory dance, but will wonder why nobody seems to share your jubilation.

It's because you monopolized the conversation and turned it into a lecture.

Now, I suspect you are probably unaware that you are doing this, so here are a couple of signs to watch out for:

• People begin to reply with short answers like: yes, no, I don't know, I don't remember, hmm, or huh.
• People begin to say things like okay or uh-huh whenever you end a sentence.
• People begin to say okay or uh-huh while you are in the middle of a sentence.
• People take on a blank, emotionless, fixed, glassy or vacant stare.

If you notice any of the above symptoms, dear Person Talking To Me, it's probably time to surrender that ball. Please finish your thought in ten words or less, as I really don't want to have to tackle you. That would be rude.

Sincerely,

The Electronic Replicant

From The Desk of Victor Frankenstein, M.D.

Igor—

You can cross the heart off your "shopping list."