Dear Sir or Madam.

While I am aware that the complexities of arranging a human life with the correct supplies of all of whatever it that you manage up there are beyond my kenning, I would like to make a request.

Please, to stop be sending me so much fucking irony. Or, at the very least, less irony of this type; this is not the good sort of irony. I do hope you attend to this request as soon as possible, because if I receive any more irony shipments, I fear I am liable to have another stress breakdown.

Thank you for your time and attention to this matter.

P.S. At the very least, could you lay off the music?

Addendum: P. P. S. I'm not sure the subsequent earworm is an improvement, but thank you for your prompt attention.
.

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