Michael Venske

An open letter.

To the teenager driving around Lake Calhoun on Tuesday:

When I saw you stick your head out the window as we passed, in the back of my mind I thought you were going to offer me a kind, cheerful word. Perhaps you had once experienced the joy of two wheels and known the pain of winter, thus understanding the importance behind the first ride of the season.

Nope. You shouted, “Fucko!”

Having a hard time remembering me? Let me help you: I was the only guy driving a Robin’s-egg-blue Stella named Shirley around Lake Calhoun that you shouted “Fucko!” at on Tuesday.

As much as I should be angered by your name calling, I was simply amused that of all the derogatory names I’ve been called, you chose “Fucko.” That’s fun with a capital “F!”

So thank you for amusing me. I hope I amused you just as much. If not, here’s a list of items confirming the fact that yes, I am a “Fucko:”

aka

“Fucko.”