Wouldn’t life be wonderful if we could always announce what we were thinking when it is hilarious? Some people use their Facebook statuses to announce personal grievances, but I’m not referring to high-school drama-queen stunts. Those people need psychological help. I’m talking about truly comical observations for those random moments when etiquette dictates we keep our opinions to ourselves, and we have to bite our lips to avoid blurting out the obvious. Fortunately, there’s a place for us to express ourselves freely and anonymously: the Internet.
Like every good college student, my youngest brother commands an uncanny ability to properly waste time when he isn’t studying. His highly developed skill helps prevent mental breakdowns and other tragedies such as midnight viewings of the “Rocky Horror Picture Show.” My brother’s latest discovery is the web site Dear Blank Please Blank, which allows people to anonymously post letters for the world to read. Apparently, the site has existed for years, but its popularity has skyrocketed since it released an iPhone app.
Dear Blank Please Blank (commonly abbreviated DBPB) functions as a platform for people to boldly proclaim their thoughts while shrinking behind the anonymity of the Internet. Posts are set up as letters, hence the DBPB name. Anyone can write anything as long as they don’t slander someone. Readers rank each letter according to its level of outrageousness. Needless to say, the site attracts amateur comedians trying to top one another.
In fact, my first impression was that someone posting on DBPB must be either hopelessly cynical or unbelievably conceited. Most of the letters are written to people, but many are written to objects. Who constantly addresses inanimate objects, other than members of an ancient tribal cult? Then I pondered the web site’s therapeutic benefits: does DBPB help release tension as well as a massage, or is it the electronic equivalent to screaming into a pillow?
Yet once I read a few comments, I was hooked. The site is brilliant. People post outrageous, sometimes-hilarious comments that tend to be what everyone thinks but doesn’t say. “Dear mom,” reads one letter, “‘I’m bored’ does not mean ‘I want to do chores.’ Sincerely, still bored.” Another one says, “Dear America, You produced Miley Cyrus. Bieber is your punishment. Sincerely, Canada.” Finally, “Dear fat people on motorized carts, Please let actual handicapped people use them. Sincerely, walking’s a good start.” Wow.
My mind immediately filled in the blanks to write my own DBPB letters. The format is definitely a quick, painless way to blurt a few observations that don’t fit into any other column.
Dear Teenagers Who Quickly Let Go of Each Other When the Elevator Doors Opened,
I’m not an idiot, and you’re only fourteen.
Dear People Who Aimlessly Walk Side-by-Side Throughout the Mall,
A turtle could pass you. A crawling baby could pass you. My 98-year-old great aunt could toddle past you and simultaneously clean her dentures.
Dear Independence Day Fireworks Planners,
On July 4th, fireworks should be introduced with patriotic tunes, not your grandma’s favorite zydeco.
Dear City Planners,
Enough people really do make left turns from Savanne Road onto Highway 311 to necessitate a left-turn signal. Do you even drive in this city?
DBPB is entertaining, but its best quality is that it allows people to write comments without truly offending anyone. Although we like to believe we control our mouths, people unfortunately tend to speak quicker than they think—any spontaneous comment from Obama or Palin confirms this—and it’s generally a good idea for us to be silent until we have a chance to properly gather our thoughts. Solomon wrote that even a fool is considered wise if he remains quiet. I can confirm almost every outspoken person I know is a fool and should remain quiet. Until we can diplomatically express our thoughts to one another with logic and tact, we’ll have to rely on Dear Blank Please Blank.
©2011 Timothy Samaha. First published in PoV Magazine.
