Forget the diploma, I'm framing this instead

This weekend I received a snail mail letter not from an actual person, but from State Sen. Scott Fitzgerald, my alleged "representative" at my hometown address.

I seriously thought for a moment the legal cease-and-desist order had finally arrived after some Googling staffer saw this post, but soon found something just as lame: a letter of congratulations for graduating college, which unfortunately did not contain any cash (that's going to far worthier sources, I'm sure).

It turns out good old Scott–for based on the seemingly authentic signature, we're apparently best buds on a first name basis–graduated from the prestigious UW-Oshkosh, also with a degree in journalism. Oh, the places you can go.

Scott also wishes me "the best in all [my] future endeavors," which in delightful irony basically entails making a career out of criticizing the likes of him. He also included a quote from every good Republican's guiding muse:

I am proud of your achievement. As President Reagan said, "there are no limits to human intelligence, imagination, and wonder". [sic]

Now, Scott, I realize you've probably got some unpaid, political science major intern typing out your form letters, but when you brag about your journalism degree and wax philosophical on the importance of education in the preceding paragraph, would it kill you to capitalize and punctuate your quote correctly? Even third-graders know the punctuation belongs inside the quotation marks. And if you omit the Oxford comma in an earlier clause, don't include it here. It's all about consistency, man, that's what you Republicans DO.

But still, Scotty boy, stylistic nitpicking aside, it warms me somewhere deep within my soul to know that I do, in fact, have one friend in this town who at least pretends to care about me.

Actually, that's likely just the Excedrin PM kicking in. You suck, Fitzgerald. And I'm moving soon, so your days of unjustly counting my awesomeness among your constituency and futilely courting my vote with your fancy-pants stationary are numbered.

But, tee hee, I'd really love to keep in touch–let's be pen pals! That way we can dot our I's with little hearts.