It takes a big person to apologize when they know they're wrong, but it takes an even bigger one to listen to it.

Dear Uncle Rocco,

I hope this letter finds you well. I also hope you're actually opening and reading it instead of burning it the moment you saw my name on the envelope. I know it was incredibly thoughtless to send you those headphones for your birthday, and I hope you will accept this apology.

I swear, I only had the best of intentions when I bought you the Motorola Bluetooth Headphones as a gift. I thought they might be the perfect way for you to enjoy the music you love as you put your life back together after the "incident" or "abduction" or whatever you want to call it. Had I known even a fraction of what you say the aliens put you through, things would've been much different. I only wish I had asked questions when you were released from the psych ward.

Please know that I had no idea whatsoever that the hydrophobic mesh, silicone seals and encased speakers would remind you of the probes those grey, black-eyed monsters mercilessly shoved into your brain in an attempt to steal your memories. And that feeling that something was following you, waiting for just the right moment to take you on board their terrible ship once again, that you got from the behind-the-head design was not what I had intended. I only wanted you to enjoy the light, comfortable fit of the headphones as you answered calls, adjusted volume, or controlled the playback of your favorite tunes from the easy-to-operate buttons! And as I watched you set the headphones on fire in your latest "GreyWatch" YouTube post as you explained that the wireless Bluetooth technology was created from prototypes the aliens had installed in your own teeth, well, I felt awful, Uncle Rocco, just awful.

So, I apologize for the bottom of my heart, Uncle Rocco. I hope that, deep down, you know I would never ever have an extraterrestrial mind control device to your home. Please, let's try to put this ugliness past us and get back to ending the threat of the impending invasion together. I miss Tin Foil Hat Time, and I think somewhere under all that psychological damage, you do, too.

Back to top