Get a life.

Dear Jim Strickland,

My freshman year of high school came, and I was super pumped for band. I loved it! I didn’t mind getting up and enduring and the cold, dewey grass first period. Yeah, it would have been nicer to have dry grass and warm(er) temperatures fifth period. It might also have been nice to have played/marched with people who knew what they were doing. Even without the embellishments, marching band was fun.

Then, I came back for my sophomore year and had a blast at band camp. I knew who you were, and thought you might be a cool kid to get to know. And then school started… The absolute FIRST day of school, you started harassing me on the field, making me feel as though I was inferior. For a while, I got really down on myself; I couldn’t figure out what the hell I had done to deserve the negative attention you were throwing at me. Almost every comment was a harsh one, and bit by bit, I became pretty depressed. I’m not an emo person; I rarely ever get depressed. After going on band tour, I kind of decided that I didn’t have to deal with you talking smack (hells yes, that’s right, talking smack). Eventually, I just kind of decided things might get better over the summer after my sophomore year…

Summer after my sophomore year passed, and I was kind of hesitant about band camp. I didn’t want to have to deal with your shit anymore. I had finally realized that I didn’t give a shit about what you said. Telling myself to be the better person, I just ignored most of the comments you made. I figured “What the hell?” It was my junior year, and I wasn’t going to let you get to me my junior year. I was an upperclassmen, and I didn’t want that to start off badly because of you. There were some times when you actually acted civil, and I’m not going to lie, I was rather surprised. However, the negative side of you definitely outweighed the good side. By the end of my junior year, I was glad you were leaving. I had put up with the rest of your shit, and was very pleased that I was never going to have to put up with it again.

Hahahahaha… never having to put up with it again. Ha, that was a good one. Anyways, I took a few ISU classes this last semester (first semester of my senior year), and I’m walking into the building one day, and I see you. I was definitely confused to why you were there; I had never seen you there before, and wasn’t exactly sure why you were showing up then. I said “Hi” to be polite, and got a super rude comment in response. Later, I find out you’re dating the girl I sat next to in my biology 211 lecture. Talking to her, she says that you’re probably one of the nicest people she’s met. I had to stifle a laugh… Nice... WHAT?!?!?!?

And then, one of your classmates comes back to pep band tonight to play with the band. I didn’t care; he’s a pretty cool guy. I can’t tell whether he likes me or not—doesn’t matter to me, though… he treats me with respect. Upon hearing of your plans to come back to pep band tonight, I figured that maybe after your first semester of college, you might have matured at least a little bit. The first thing I get out of your mouth is an insult, and there wasn’t anything nice to be said tonight. Everybody else got hellos or a hi complemented with a hug or handshake or something along those lines. I got some sort of handshake for saying that I was going to Iowa next year, but I’m pretty sure that handshake wasn’t meant to say something along the lines of “Yeah! Not Iowa State!” All night, I put up with your insults. Yeah, you might have helped out on the high notes, but it’s not like you were doing that for me… I couldn’t have cared less if you had showed up tonight.

After we were done playing for the night, I walk downstairs to the band room to put my trumpet away. You’re there, talking to a couple of your friends. Good for you. You just look at me, and thrust a hand in my general direction, expecting something. After a second or so, I realized what you were doing; I knew almost right away that you wanted your band bar back. I definitely lied to you, saying that it was at home… I also lied saying that I’d give it back to your sister. There was no way in hell I was going to take that band bar off of my jacket. I didn’t want to have to deal with your shit in the past, and there’s no way that I was going to start dealing with it tonight.

You’ve graduated. If you truly cared about the band bar, you would have contacted our band director about it, and you could have gotten a different one. You might have gotten a band letter and a crap ton of band bars. I couldn’t care less. I never saw you wearing a letter jacket, and now that you’ve graduated, it’s not like you’re going to go out and buy one. You’ve had any and all high school graduation parties you’re ever going to have for yourself, so if you had them on display, then great! You didn’t care about them then, and you don’t care about them now.

Jim, there’s a little something I like to call KARMA. It doesn’t matter if you believe in it or not. Karma might exist naturally, it might not. Either way, though, Karma’s coming back to you, and it’s given ME the opportunity to return the favor. I’m just glad that I get to be the one that gets to deliver the news. Jim, you were a dick in high school, and you’re still a dick now. I have your band bar on my letter jacket, and you’re not getting it back. I’d say “Hope you have a nice life.” but it’s not the truth. So instead, I hope you die a super slow and painful death. Go get cancer or something. Fuck you.

Shave those fucking pubes off your face,
Kauf

P.S. You might want to shave them off of your arms, too.