My dearest Fats,

I miss you terribly! Life rushes by like hurricane force winds and before I know it, it's been 14 months, 22 days, 15 hours and 37.3 minutes since last we saw each other, Fatsy=watsy!  How I pine for your deep, grating voice. How my fingers long to be coated in your hair grease once more!
I know I messed up last time but how was I to know wearing a shirt with your face painted on it would upset you?  How could I have known how much you truly hated Meatloaf when I picked "I would do anything for love" to serenade you on the Statin Ferry?? (I still suspect it was the sacrificial chicken. I swear I won't do it in public again, Fatsy!)

Please, please, forgive me. Come away with me. I'll even let you do the planning!
Your truest love,

Ah, it's good to be back.  Fatsylvania has really seen better days.  In fact, I was just noosin' up my braided tie when I realized something.  I hadn't gotten
a question from you, my adoring public, since switched formats over six months.  Here I was, thinking that my help was useless when I realized that it was just the website was useless!  You all have the Fats Guarantee that all forms are now in working order, thanks to Webmaster Genius Jason, and you can once again submit your questions for advice!  It is indeed good news.

And with all good news comes bad news.  I got this stain of an email in my box the other day, and when I was done, boy did it bring back some pretty horrible memories.  Most notably where she said 'Statin Ferry,' which is an egregious error to say the least, and when she called me 'Fatsy'.  I do not go by my full name, Fatsy Von Shinsplints, anymore.  I have shortened it to just Fats, which is what I prefer to be called, for all future references.

This letter is indeed sad, as it completely ignores all the rules for asking for advice in my column. Here are those rules, in their entirety.
   1) Actually ask for advice.
I can't really make it much easier. 

But that doesn't mean that Tutsi can't use some helpful advice anyway.  One might imagine I would handle the topic of how prevent/report/defend against/maim a stalker, but no.  That isn't very important - I mean how many of us have stalkers, anyway?  And that's really the problem, there aren't enough stalkers anymore, and those that are out there are doing it ALL WRONG, like the abovementioned Tutsi.  So sit back and learn how to properly stalk somebody.  I will use this email as a guide as to what's wrong, and how to fix it.  These hints, and plenty more, can all be found in my informational pamphlet: Fats' Guide to Stalking, Ransom Notes, and Diamond Appraisal.

A) First off, she signed the letter 'Tutsi'.  Clearly, that is a pseudonym.  Unless I'm being stalked by famed pianola instructor Tutsi Shamrock (highly unlikely) or by the entire Tutsi tribe of Rwanda (slightly more likely, especially after my ill-timed African Good Feelings Tour), we can assume that Tutsi is not her real name.  That is a no-no in stalking.  If your stalkee has no idea who is doing the stalking, it's scarcely stalking, is it?  At that point, it's just a secret admirer, or a Secret Santa, or, hell, more like a wrong number.  No, in order to make your point, you need to give your full name.  To ensure that your stalking is genuine (stalker impostors are a huge problems nowadays), you may want to include a home address, as well as your Social Security Number.  The reason here is two-fold.  First, as I mentioned, credibility cannot be understated.  Second, this increases the chances of someone stalking you in return, thus returning the stalking numbers to their proper prominence. 

B) Don't ever, ever, ever, ever, EVER assume anyone will like Meatloaf.

C) In her email, Tutsi (home phone number 208-3819) referred to the last time had an unfortunate encounter.  It was over 14 months ago.  If that is how frequent you plan on stalking, I got a few words for you - give up now.  Stalking requires dedication.  You can't just throw an email out every once in a while and expect your recipient to get all up in arms.  You need to be writing emails frequently - I would suggest hourly.  While Tutsi did one good thing -- noting EXACTLY how long it was -- she still didn't take it far enough.  Use seconds and, where possible, the amount of
picoseconds that have elapsed.  While this might make typing your emails a greater challenge (you may spend as much as 100% of your time just notating picoseconds), it will drive home the point more effectively.  As far as personal appearances, you also need to up the ante there.  Don't wait over a year to see your stalkee.  I would advise moving in to their building complex, if they are in one.  Preferably move in to their unit.  If the housing office gives you any guff, stalk them too.

D) Content - apologies make terrible stalking correspondence.  No stalkee wants to read about how they are amazing, especially if you won't even sign it properly (see Step A).  Use a sterner tone, including inexplicable nicknames and, where appropriate, outright threats.  Your stalkee letter should read something like this:
Hey [famous person, such as US Senator Orrin Hatch (R, Utah)]
Your last name's a verb, Twinkles.  Last night while I was in your begonias, not stopping your dog from humping my leg, I saw you making love to your wife, affectionately named Hugbert.  I'm twice the man she is.  You're blind if you don't see that, H.K. 
Vote for a tax reduction or your kids will be shoving daisies around.  Not dead, per se, but definitely moving daisies. 
Clement R. Whoop
p.s.  By the by, H.K. stands for Helen Keller.  She was blind.  I will punch you in your sleep.
Now THAT'S how to do a stalker letter.

E) Lastly, always make copies of your correspondence and save them in several places.  The reasons for this are two-fold.  One, some day you will want to compile this in a book, and if they're all saved, then your grateful editor will have an easier time.  Two, you'll need to send out other copies.  ALWAYS CC your emails and letters.  I would suggest sending one to the police (if you're not wanted, you're not a stalker), one to the CIA (in extreme situations), and one to me, C/O Stoutman's Fishery, PO Box 442029, Sexi, Peru.  No postal code necessary.

Wow, that was a biggie.  Stalking is no laughing matter, unless you do it like Tutsi.  And, by the way, I've been told by several women-types that my voice is 'dulcet and chunky'.  So take that.

Our glitches are fixed.  You have problems? 
ASK FATS NOW!  Until next time, this is Fats reminding you that, not only do voodoo dolls work, they make great anniversary gifts!

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