In the previous post I called you a crass, self-serving octogenarian. I apologize for those remarks because I now understand those 'labels' have the potential to cause friction between you and your three wives who may not have been privy to the fact that you are close to 100 years old. (For what it's worth, when the light is just so, you don't look a day over 85.)
To make amends, I would be more than happy to talk to your lovely better halves (quarters?) at the next Playboy Mansion Party and clear up the matter. I would also be happy to 'beef' up your image with any of the other Playmates and celebrity leeches in attendance.
As you know, I am on the verge of becoming a world-famous author so having me at your party portrays you as someone who has his finger (however arthritic it may be) on the pulse of new and upcoming talent. Plus, I already have the pajamas so there would be no extra expense on your part.
Just so you'll know, I did not receive my invitation yet, but I suspect this is due to the incompetent, shoddy service of the U.S. Postal Service and not your fault. Just the same, if you could check into it on your end and get back to me, I'd be eternally grateful.
Sincerely,
Terrence Paquet
Author of My Penis and other short pieces
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