I couldn't help but notice that the words printed on a letter I recently received from you re: my kid included a word comprised of two letters starting with an N and ending with an O. And that is unacceptable. No pun intended, since you didn't accept my son. Heh. Wow, sometimes I surprise myself with these little bit of wordplay. Anyway, I didn't even have to read the full contents of the letter, I've got one of those what do you call it - FIND ALL functions in my fucking eyes. FIND ALL 'NO'. Boom. There it was. From this cursory search I can only conclude that you have decided that, for some head-up-your-butt type reason, my kid ain't up to Daisy Place snuff. Well listen up. He is. Here's why you're going to let my kid into your pre-school:

One. Brains. My kid's got brains in spades. See this New York Times crossword? My kid colored in the whole thing, and stayed in all the lines to boot.

Two. Potty trained. My kid knows when to hold 'em, and knows when to fold 'em. I guarantee no accidents unless one of your staff makes a point of scaring the shit out of him, with like, a...skeleton mask or something.

Three. Stacking skills. My kid can stack up to four items no problem, regardless of the items. But no heavy appliances. My kid ain't no X-man. HA! Um. But listen. If that IS the kind of school you run, you know, for like, genetic misfits with powers and stuff, then I don't blame you for not wanting my kid. He's a...a muggle, or whatever you superpeople call us. Do not harm me with your weatherkenesis, oh storm wrangler!

Four. Here's a hundred dollars.

Five. Macaroni sculptor extraordinaire! Dammit if I didn't come home one time to find a macaroni solar system in my kitchen. And the detail! Volcanic activity on Europa? SURE! With a dab of ketchup. I'll be.

Six. You ever see that episode of Lost where the Chinese guy can stop time and then Keifer Sutherland kills those terrorists? Was that not the best half hour of television you've ever seen? Man, I love Lifetime.

Seven. Hey, let's be honest, my sixth reason wasn't a reason at all, and was fraught with inaccuracies. My son would've called me on it, and caught all of the mistakes. Think about it.

Eight. My kid will be President. Wouldn't you like to have an alum become President? Think of the perks! Extra gym mats and shit.

Nine. I saw the one with John Stamos. I don't know, it's like he was fine, but he has no presence! You know? You tell me this guy is schtuping all those hot women, then he better make me believe he's an irresistible sunnabitch, you know? Cock of the planet. Alpha rooster, you know. Eh, he could sing decent but no presence.

Ten. Bo Derrick's tits in that movie. Holy shit.

So there you have it. Let my kid into your pre-school or I'll punch you in the neck.