dear red cross,
come on, now, we've been through this before so i really don't see why we have to go through this again. you're a worthy charity, your running costs don't outweigh your charitable expenditures, you are well respected in the world and your marketing must be doing something right because that logo recognition thing? damn good! so why do i have to be right back where i started, threatening to cut you off, huh? shall i tell you again what it is that bugs me? you really ought to know by now, seeing as i've cut you off before, but you seem to be suffering from some kind of selective memory loss. either that or you've been watching too many mad men episodes, slurping back old-fashioneds like they're going out of style, convincing yourself that it's the 1950's all over again. after all, how else can i explain your dogged insistence on addressing your mail to mr. and mrs. albert monkey, when you know damn well my name is not, and has never been, albert.
let's recap: yes, i am married to mr. albert monkey, but everyone knows my name is matilda monkey and, last i checked, the 50's were over, and i was allowed to get my own name on an envelope, especially in light of the fact that it is i, matilda monkey, who makes the charitable donation decisions in this household. yes, red cross, i know it's very very hard to wrap your whiskey-sodden little brain around that strange new-fangled concept, but it is fact. mr. monkey has relinquished his god given manly rights to that particular decision-making process and it is i who decide. and, like the time before, when you ignored my initially polite, and then increasingly irate letters asking you to remedy the situation, i think i shall have to cut you off again. that's right, mrs. monkey over here, has had enough of your misogyny and is saying: no more.
but don't worry, red cross, i won't spend the money i'd have given to you on hookers and blow, tempted though i may be. no, red cross, you can rest easy in the knowledge that your loss, is médecins sans frontières' gain. last i checked, they were totally cool with my existence as a human being in her own right. don't call me, please, and for god's sake, don't write: it's over.