An Open Letter to Chuck Klosterman

Dear Chuck Klosterman,
I enjoyed your book about sex, drugs, and cocoa puffs. There were a good many true things written in that book. True things about white guy pop culture in America, true things about being a twenty-something, fucked up white kid trying to figure out how to be in a relationship. I also found that book to be refreshing in an irrelevant sort of way, kind of like eating Doritos.
Somebody gave me your book about yourself and what music you listen to while lamenting over your failure to relate to certain women. This book says that it is about how you drove all over the country, visiting places where rock stars died. It also says it is about thinking about death, which it is not. It is about what CD you listened to while thinking about some girl you were having sex with in 1992 when you lived in Minneapolis for five months and didn't even learn anything about Minneapolis. Chuck Klosterman, please write something better than this book.
Love,
Zetta

p.s. You also personally insulted my cousin in that cocoa puffs book. She is pissed off at you too.