…Dear Asmodean,

Hail, o thou great musician, thou singer of songs, thou player of dirges, thou whiny, depressed predecessor to the emo movement. I have made (written) this long (not really) journey (email) to ask you just one question. It's the question that burns in the back of my ever-so-insignificant-in-comparison-to-yours mind at night. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't sniff disapprovingly… Ok, that last one is an exaggeration. I'm a female, and we can sniff disapprovingly no matter what is going on. It's one of the things men love about us.

Anyway, back to my burning question…. What? No, not that kind of burning. It's not related to STDs, but good for you for being so open about your own problems down there… * sniffs*

Now. My question is as simple as those worthless Third Agers that call themselves Aes Sedai. I know I shouldn't, but I must ask, Who Killed You??

… WAIT!! It was a joke, I'm only kidding. We all know <insertfavoritesuspecthere> did it. Stop weeping and come back here. You really shouldn't cry when you're wearing that much eye makeup; it's running something awful. There, isn't that better? Good.

My real question is… I wanted to ask… Erm… *bleep*. I've gone and forgotten it. Ah well, no matter. What say we go get a beer and let slip to Lanfear that Lews Therin's been banging Graendal? That fight should be (has been for decades) the stuff of legend (adolescent males' fantasy). Might even distract you from your death. Oh, you're crying again… Nevermind, I'll just go find Sammael; he's toast, and I'm hungry.

Yours truly,

Buttering in Baerlon

Well, Miss Basting in Butter, I would first like to say that I resent the implication that I wear makeup; I leave that solely to Sammael. Or at least I used to... Ever since he went on this whole 'reimagining himself' shtick, he's been hopeless. But that's neither hither nor thither. Now to your question... errr... you did have a question, didn't you? No? Well then, I guess I'll just have to give you advice based upon a rather disjointed and highly... irregular letter.

First thing's first: I recommend some Kleenex or maybe some sort of decongestant for that whole sniffing thing. Speaking from a male perspective, it's a serious turn-off. No man wants a woman who snores louder than he does.

Moving on... I'm not touching the whole STD thing without gloves.

Finally, I recommend seeing a doctor about that whole leaping from subject to subject thing. They have medication for that nowadays, I understand. Now, go chase something shiny into the road and let the nice man with the harp play a proper dirge for you.

And by "dirge," I mean, "proper comedic music."

-Asmodean