Open Letter to Wile E. Coyote
(Note: This is a repost of the original).
Dear Mr. Coyote,
It’s not really about the food anymore, is it?
Was it ever?
If you have the time and money to invest in an engineering degree, which judging from your methods you obviously have, then clearly you have time to dial up your local fast food joint and order up a big old bucket of extra crispy road runner with a side of cole slaw. But that’s not it, is it?
He tasks you. He tasks you, and you shall have him.
I get it, he’s an irritating little snot with a dumb smile and a superior attitude. But your Ahab like obsession with your quarry is likely to be your undoing. Not in the “floating off the end of a cliff, plummeting down, hitting the ground in a cloud of dust and then being crushed by the rest of the cliff kind of way”, you have proven yourself surprisingly resilient in that regard. I’m talking about real, lasting, deep psychological damage that you are doing to yourself. Ask yourself this question, is he worth it? Running down the road is literally this thing’s idea of having fun. Why are you ruining your life over this clown?
If I may be so bold, I’d like to suggest a few more constructive ways to use your time and considerable talents. Go ahead and empty your pockets of all those “Help” and “Mother” signs. You won’t be needing them anymore.
1) Move out of Arizona. Move to the prairies. It’s colder, but there are considerably fewer cliffs there.
2) Apply for a job at Acme. Turn those years of field work into something that will benefit you. Hell chances are you’ll invent something in your time there. Retire rich, and put a big fat bounty of that smug little pricks head. Hire Ninjas. If you throw enough money at the problem, he’ll end up dead, no question.
3) Take up a hobby. Maybe art. You could do hyper realistic paintings of tunnels on the walls of galleries, and amaze the crowds when actual trucks come through them. Or construct life size sculptures of the Road Runner out of dynamite. It will turn your pain into art. Plus critics will praise your idea that art is transitory and you can only actually SEE the piece for about a minute and a half before you have to evacuate the gallery. Then they really WILL be calling you a super genius.
4) Avoid anvils. Seriously, what the hell is the deal with you and anvils? What is this the 1800’s? I’m guessing the only reason you stick with Acme even after they keep screwing you over is because they are the only company that still makes and sells anvils.
5) Sue Marvel comics. You had a healing factor, claws and an attitude long before Wolverine did. Take em for millions. Hit the beach and stay there. Order Road Runner from Room Service.
6) Go on Oprah, get your side of the story out there. If the Road Runner is the victim, why is it your are the one that ends up getting crushed into an accordion shape? Once Oprah is on your side, the public is sure to follow. Hit him where it hurts…public opinion…destroy his career, then he has nothing.
and last of all, but certainly not the least important 7) GET THERAPY. What if you did get him, what then? I’ll tell you what then, depression, emptiness, anxiety, an overwhelming feeling that your life has no purpose. You have to deal with this sooner rather than later, because for you, suicide would be a long drawn out process of trial and error.
I hope I haven’t stepped over any boundaries, it’s just that you are a genius with remarkable gifts, and I hate to see that going to waste. If you need someone to talk to about this, I’m always here for you.
Sincerely
Tony Binns
P.S. Okay, I have to ask, how come you can talk when you are chasing Bugs Bunny, but you can’t when you are chasing the Road Runner?
