| Dear Clarice…
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| I have followed|with enthusiasm…
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| The course of your disgrace|and public shaming.
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| My own never bothered me…
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| Except for the inconvenience|of being incarcerated.
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| But you may lack perspective.
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| In our discussions|down in the dungeon…
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| It was apparent to me|that your father…
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| The dead night watchman…
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| Figures largely|in your value system.
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| I think your success|in putting an end…
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| To Jame Gumb’s career|as a couturier…
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| Pleased you most…
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| Because you could imagine|your father being pleased.
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| But now, alas, you’re in|bad odor with the FBI.
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| Do you imagine your daddy|being shamed by your disgrace?
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| Do you see him|in his plain pine box…
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| Crushed by your failure?
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| The sorry, petty end|of a promising career?
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| What is worst about|this humiliation, Clarice?
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| Is it how your failure…
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| Will reflect|on your mommy and daddy?
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| Is your worst fear that people|will now and forever…
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| Believe they were indeed…
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| Just good old trailer camp,|tornado-bait, white trash?
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| And that perhaps you are, too?
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| By the way,|I couldn’t help noticing…
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| On the FBI’s|rather dull public website…
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| That I have been hoisted…
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| From the Bureau’s archives|of the common criminal…
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| And elevated|to the more prestigious…
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| Ten Most Wanted List.
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| Is this coincidence,|or are you back on the case?
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| If so, goody goody.
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| I need to come out of retirement|and return to public life.
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| Clearly this new assignment|is not your choice.
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| Rather, I suppose it is|part of the bargain…
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| But you accepted it, Clarice.
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| Your job is to craft my doom.
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| So I am not sure how well|I should wish you…
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| But I’m sure|we'll have a lot of fun.
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| Ta-ta. |