Dear Mr. Colbert:
For years, I've been a loyal viewer. It's you that taught me the meaning of true conservatism, fiscal responsibility, die-hard interviewing and awesome jam-tunes. When you put Michael Stipe on your shelf, I wept a little -- then denied it, knowing that's exactly what you'd do, too. I'm not ashamed to say: you, sir, are a hero and inspiration to me. You are the man I aspire to be -- only shorter.
Well, you were.
At some point, you went soft. You started taking the easy way out. After years of quick wit and brilliant word play, you turned to the oldest trick in the book. You started shitting on Detroit.
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