An Open Letter from Lee Patterson, World’s Ugliest Man

Dear Everyone,

I have finally cleared of enough Cheetos wrappers and empty Cherry Coke kegs off my desk to sit down and address some of my growing concerns via open letter to everyone more attractive than me. I realize it’s strange to address a letter to all of earth’s 6,372,797,742 billion inhabitants, but I think it’s time you heard the voice behind the man you thought was the star of the movie “Hey Look at that Ugly Fat Ass”, which was actually never filmed.

So ok, I get it, I’m ugly. I know my left leg is 217-pounds over-weight. I know my tongue isn’t supposed to produce obscene amounts of dandruff. I know having three extra fingers on each ear lobe doesn’t meet society’s standards of attraction. I know I’m about as attractive as a portfolio of Enron stock, but do have to remind me every half second of every half second? Was that negative 2,867 rating on hotornot.com really necessary? Do you actually need to hide your children’s eyes and voraciously explain to them that I’m just practicing for next Halloween by dressing as retarded Shrek? People, I am not your all-encompassing target for ridicule. I have feelings too and those feeling aren’t as deformed as coved with pockmarks as my body, so stop it.

Hey Hollywood directors, please stop asking me to star in the remake of David Lynch’s “Elephant Man”. I know casting me would save over two million dollars in costume and make-up expenses, but a successful remake is unrealistic, especially since I look more like a rhino/giraffe/gazelle-she-thing than an elephant man.

Hey plastic surgeons please stop casually slipping me your business card. Having fingernails on your face honestly isn’t that bad and I actually like the Rosie O-Donnell-shaped skin-tag on my neck. And for God sakes, stop sneaking into my room with your team of all-star surgeons in an attempt to perform gastro-bypass and breast reduction surgery as I sleep. I can hear you coming and you’re only making me uglier.

Hey animal control, stop launching tranquillizers at me every time I step out of my house. Hey Sasquatch, quit sending me love letters. Hey Jurassic Park enthusiasts, do you want to watch a screening of Jurassic Park III at my place on Friday. I fucking love that movie.

The rest of you continue to criticize the fact that I’ve “never” “had” “sex” “with” “a” “woman”, but you don’t realize how hard it is to find a condom shaped like Lombard Street for my curvy penis, especially when that same penis has a restraining order on me. Most of you assume that I’ve never been with a lady. Not true. I actually dated a pretty female woman girl in high school named Bethany Bulmer. We were a cute couple in a sort of ugly way. We had matching lisps and were bonded through our mutual battle with level four gingivitis and gum disease. Our high school hailed us as a celebrity couple. For example, the Fighting Barnacles Yearbook voted us “Most Likely to be too Obese to Ever Engage in Sexual Intercourse” our freshmen, sophomore, junior and senior years, and twice after we graduated. Boy were they right. I wonder what Bethany’s doing these days. Last I heard she had made herself quite popular on the Internet under the alias “Tub Girl”. Look her up some time.

But not all of you are so bad. Whoever leaves me baskets of donuts on my front porch each morning, thank you, and could you please stop filling those donuts with poisonous bear traps. I just ask you all start treating me like I’m more that just the ugliest man in the world and stop planning family vacations around my back acne problem. Grow up people, but in the mean time go have sex with sharp objects.

Sincerely,
Lee Patterson