National Nitwit

An Open Letter from Billy Pilgrim, National Nitwit Rogue Editor

As a leading contributor to the National Nitwit and several other internationally recognized publications, I often suppress my personal sentiments for the sake of journalistic integrity, and am rarely compelled to voice my judicious insights on current events.

In fact, my last editorial from August on the fascist whimsy of Wikipedians was met with profound indifference even from my most committed readers.

You filthy bastards.

But I am obliged to finally make my deepest personal desire public, no matter what repercussions may come: I am in love with actress Scarlett Johansson, and formally invite her to take a ride on this Pilgrim’s wagon.

But lest you think me crass, let me elaborate: we live in a dangerous world. A world where terrorists dynamite children to undecipherable bits, democracies falter like blind stallions, and faith is, in the words of Paul Simon, “an island in the setting sun.”

Amid the vast sea of uncertainty, there is only one truth: Scarlett Johansson is smoking hot. And I’m not talking local-high-school-cheerleader hot. Johansson is so hot I’d stab my own mother in the uterus while pissing on my collection of Jethro Tull records. And I don’t even play those fuckers. Each one is bound in three dust-repellant slip covers and sits in a milk crate in my bomb shelter. Yes, I have a bomb shelter. Jigga what.

But I digress. Johansson’s beauty echoes the cosmos’ beauty. Her breasts are like two stars beaming through the galaxy, their effervescent halos blazing through my bedroom window, bounding around my unmade bed and a mound of Spree wrappers, their blessed light glistening on my typewriter keys where I write this poetic missive now.

So Scarlett, my Scarlett, let us be true to one another: please bang me. In this land of broken dreams, where we toil without joy, nor love, nor light, it will be the best 9 seconds of your life.