I’ve been harassed intermittently since 1990 or so by a wacko in Salt Lake City. For why, I haven’t a clue. Obviously I tweaked something in the guy’s twisted psyche to the point he felt the need to strike back and take me down a peg or three. (Good luck with that, Stalker Boy.)
When I still lived in the city of salt, I used to keep a log of the late night phone calls I’d get from this guy. Nearly 100 calls, as I recall. I’m sure it was a guy because of the obnoxious noises that came out the earpiece as I held it a foot or two away. (No woman could ever make such noises.)
I won’t tell you what kind of sounds because I don’t want to encourage any copycats. At any rate, the guy dropped a lot of quarters in payphones to let me know his, uh, feelings.
I even received a couple of letters and Christmas cards from the guy, reminding me that I am a “looser” and that my music sucks. Alrighty then.
I move to Montana. 11 years go by with no contact from the weirdo. And then, last week, a letter arrived in the mail from Salt Lake from somebody whose name and address were unfamiliar to me. (Turns out they were fictitious.) The content of the letter?
“You’re still a big looser, cause no matter where you go there you are!”
Anonymous cowards, in real life and the Internet, are a sad lot. The only thing sadder is an anonymous schmuck who tries to unhinge people with a tasteless bag of stupid psychological tricks.
Good luck with your strategy to bring me down, Stalker Boy. I don’t have those kind of buttons to push. 
The latest letter is in this post. I’ll be scanning and posting all of Stalker Boy’s “contributions” to my well being so that his handwriting (and pathetic spelling) is exposed for the world to see. Maybe someone who knows him will recognize the signature handwriting traits and rat him out.
