An unfiltered fire hose of flaming condemnation

The greatest email in the history of the Internet

The following email arrived anonymously in my inbox a couple of days after I posted about my recent Maytag saga. It is a literary masterpiece, one filled with a bit of questionable language (BEWARE! meaning, Dad, you’re not going to want to read this one), and I could not in good conscience keep this to myself. Behold:

Regarding Your Most Recent Post

Dear Mrs. Armstrong,

I am a Germanic headless anti-vaccination pioneer. I am deeply offended by your having opinions and complaining about your sub-par washing machine service. 

My parents died when I was four years old. They were security guards at the city zoo that came upon a massive kudu heist in progress and halted the progress of the criminals long enough to be fatally stabbed seventy-three times in total. I spent many years on the stoop of a slumlord’s crapshack, exposing myself to gang violence as bullets whistled by daily like sideways-going pigeon poop, listening to he and his portly halfbreed banshee-bull terrier wife rail against each other like two krumpers in a street circle.  

I chose this loud locale for my home solely to learn to separate my w’s and my v’s properly amidst the screams of “piss-guzzling ass minstrel,” “shit-swilling crap-belching vagina,” “pithy rust-encrusted testicle envelope,” and “burgeoning harlot, omni-wight-fucking chasm-cockpit, moss-growing volcanically throwing-up dick splitter, Blubberface McButtshit Taintlicker Esquire.” 

It is deeply hurtful to me that you stereotype my people by implying that we are too stupid and worthless to not mix up our v’s and w’s, like we lolloped out of some old anti-German cartoon. You Americans still haven’t forgiven us for World War II and your old prejudices stand in the way of you actually growing any brains, and we already apologized for it, and it pisses me off that you still demean us in this way.

I also want you to know that I lived in this horrible wretched (NOT VRETCHED) God-beshatted place until my head was shot off at the age of eleven by a seven-year-old crack dealer with an AK-47. I suffered much pain and suffering and playground tormenting because of this. “Headless Whorewoman” they called me, “Hessian Poopeater,” they taunted me, “No-Face McButt,” they screamed and pointed. 

“Why don’t you go find Ichabod and fuck him with a pumpkin,” was the response that I got the first time I asked a boy out on a date. 

You cannot possibly know the pain of not having a head and the social ostracization I have fought to overcome, how my life spiraled into a black angry pit full of snakes of despair and spiders of wrath and black roses of zombie sex and skulls of vampire fetish and the blackness of waking torpid undead death; and I do not find it funny at all that you make light of this suffering. 

I left the city life after a Korean man who sold intricately-carved animal bacula gave me a pamphlet on the Church of Latter-Day Saints. After he discovered I couldn’t read (not because I was German and couldn’t understand English because of all the w’s and v’s, but because I DIDN’T HAVE A HEAD, IF YOU RECALL) he gave me a verbal summary, and it was like a golden shower of divine inspiration had rained down on me directly from the deepest depths of the angelic hosts’ very being. I decided to move to Utah.

Having no money, however, I struck out on foot, with only a few dozen squirrels I had harnessed in the city to guide me in my horrible blindness and to carry the few possessions I had: a few quarters for laundry, a toothbrush with a shaved end that doubled as a shiv, a raccoon baculum that doubled as either a smaller shiv or a fishhook, and a few masks full of styrofoam to prevent people thinking I was coming from beyond the grave to destroy them (Bill Clinton, werewolf, and Stormtrooper). 

It took years of difficult struggle for me to make it, and not a few squirrels gave their lives to distract the coyotes from my sleeping form which looked to them for all the world like carrion. I was shot several more times (apparently this was many strangers’ first response to my alarming appearance) and nearly bled to death on several occasions, but the divinity of my quest kept me alive by the grace of God and the inspiration of Joseph Smith the Prophet.

Your washing machine doesn’t seem so effing important now, does it. Oh, your house is covered in poop? I was covered in blood for a solid year. And poop, as well, as it’s hard to find motivation to find a suitable place to shit when you don’t have enough blood to raise your hand and slap a coyote away. When I was feeling well enough to walk, I found beating my clothes with a rock in a stream suited me just fine.

Eventually, one night in total darkness, I arrived at the temple in Salt Lake City. I felt its facade and it was like a lightning bolt ran through my fingers, up and down my spine to my brain and my anus, filling me with the electricity of hope, something I’d never felt before. I sat on the steps until dawn came, and a man of the cloth arrived.

“Who are you?” he said.

“I’m a fucking believer, my bitch,” I said. Having grown up on the block, this was the only way I had ever heard people talk. I had no idea it was offensive. In a surge of faith that this man would not judge me, I took off my Stormtrooper mask to reveal my lack of a face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, scrunching his face in disgust. “I don’t think we can accomodate you.”

I was plunged into darkness once again. I contemplated killing myself there on the steps, but despite the church’s rejection, I still felt a spark of the faith in me. Perhaps the human followers of the church were not prepared for a headless Germanic woman from the block, but I was sure that Jesus and the Latter-Day Saints themselves were.

So I have worshipped in secret. Full of pain, and torment, and the ever-constant sting of rejection by every person I have ever met, I live in a sewer. The closest I have come to a washing machine is getting caught up in little whirlpools during rainstorms. But I have been coming to the public library, once a week, to read your blog, which previously was like a beacon of light and life into my dreary, half-dead days. 

But no longer.


“Headless Reader”

  • Hilarious! FOLLOW!

  • Jen

    “I’m a fucking believer, my bitch.” <- Best sentence ever. Truth be told I am jealous of the headless reader's ability to produce something so magnificent. I mean I have a head and don't think I am capable of writing anything nearly as captivating. Seriously, this really does win the award for the best email ever.

  • That was brilliant!!

  • Laura June

    Haha cute.

  • Poor No-Face McButt.

    At least the library was willing to accomodate.

  • OMG that was so psychotic. In a brilliant way. I need some time to process…

  • I’m running out the door to my graduate English class. I think we should discuss this email instead of Greek drama.


  • Oh.My.Lord. This was hands down the best laugh I’ve had all day. I wish I’d get these kinds of anonymous e-mails.

  • Simply Devilish

    Either this person loves Dooce in the serial killer stalker hang on every word- want to wear your skin for a hat kind of person.


    Dooce wrote it…..

    Disturbing !

  • Why don’t you go find Ichabod…

    Ah ha. Ah ha. Ahhhh hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!

    This is proof that your inbox may, indeed, contain the secrets of the universe.

  • jen

    fucking AWESOME!!!!!

  • nikki from across the pond

    I’m crying laughing. Thank you!

  • That Anonymous guy/gal always writes some really good stuff. A very prolific writer and composer. Thanks for posting the email Dooce.

  • ART, I tell you… ART!!!

    If this person does not have their own blog, the world is the worse for it.

    Loved it!

  • Nicole


    okay, back to reality. Sounds like a Tim Burton & Tarantino flick waiting to happen . . .

  • Oh wow. Freaking hilarious!

  • Cassie

    She had me until “my head was shot off at the age of eleven by a seven-year-old crack dealer with an AK-47”. Then my eyebrows sought refuge in my hairline.

  • ha ha ha ha ha!! Oh my gawd, that was FNTASTIC!!

  • holy moly!

    is that your ex-girlfriend? you knew she was going to find you somehow! =)

  • Hilarious! People have too much time on their hands! They take themselves and you too serioulsy!

  • Markus

    Now that’s a blog I’d follow slaveishly.

  • wow. it would takes me hours to put something as glorious as this together. i feel tired just thinking about it. wow.

  • Renee

    Oh that was freaking BRILLIANT!!!

  • LynzM

    Laughed my ass off over here. Brilliant!

  • JennC

    I am begging you: please choose one of #5’s favs as next months masthead. PLEASE.

  • oh my fucking god in heaven i wish i wrote that. that took some serious time and imagination. and all without a goddamn head. priceless. thanks for posting. and please, headless whore, make yourself known. we will accept you.

  • Kellie

    I literally had a Joygasm when I read that.
    I take my sarcasm hat off to your Headless Germanic Ex-Reader.


  • Nicole

    you know what’s funnier than that email?!?

    the people leaving comments that think it’s serious!!

  • Leslie

    Wow, I definately call bullshit but to think this person had so much time…or maybe this email was in the works already, this person just needed someone to send it to.

    Thank you for sharing it was pure entertainment and laugh out loud funny.

    Love ya Dooce

    P.S. I love the header for September too.

  • Follow indeed! Absolutely perfect.


  • Angela


  • That is the most fabulous thing I have ever read. The “golden shower of divine intervention” is particularly wonderful.

  • Jenn

    This is so beyond awesome.

  • Tanya

    This email is fucking genius, my bitch.

    Can we help Headless Reader have a blog of her own? Or at least let her run a country? FOLLOW.

  • The headless reader wirtes like The notorious Black Hockey Jesus.

  • cc

    Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!!

  • Amy

    One funny slag!

  • Kim

    That was…AWESOME! I’m so glad you shared it with us.

  • Anonymous

    Sie sind ein Lügner. Sie haben dies geschrieben! Es ist zu raffiniert.

  • jessica

    I totally think that “a golden shower of divine inspiration” should be next month’s masthead.


  • I LOVE THIS PERSON. So much.

  • Definitely a work of art…the kind that you know has that certain “something” but you just can’t put your finger on it.

  • Um, seriously? How can can your Headless Reader read your web site if they are in fact headless?

  • What the fuck was that???!


    “I’m a fucking believer, my bitch,” I said. (This sentence alone confirmed that September is going to be an amazing month.)

    ….I’m still rather shocked with disbelief that someone wrote this. I really need you to print it out and frame it. Or at least let it be the opening chapter for you next book.

    Also, how the fuck did she read your blog or type this email if she has no head? Did I miss that part. I’ll go back and read it again.

  • That is truly a work of creative genius and a pretty damn Sneaky Pete way of getting it published.


  • Kit


    Simply put…. double wow.

    The lengths people go to.

    Well- it’s too bad the Germanic headless anti-vaccination pioneer didn’t have TWITTER back in the day. Maybe World War II would have turned out differently! Maybe even us ‘AMERICAN’S’ perspective on those ‘Germans’ would be too!

    I wonder if the headless person uses brail??? Quite the talent to not be able to read a LDS pamphlet but can read the internet and send such an eloquent email to you despite that fact. hmmmm.

  • That email fills me with wonderment and makes me realize how cushy my life really is.

    Thanks for sharing. That email is so full of win. 🙂

  • C.

    I thought she couldn’t read because she didnt have a head, if you recall.

  • This is an epic conclusion to the Maytag saga.

Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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