To My Future First Wife Part 4: Yes, They’ve finally let me write another one of these blog entry thingies. I guess no one else wanted to write the first new entry after the serious one. Let me just tell you one thing, woman. People will tell you that I’m lying to you about us getting married one day. Don’t believe a word…

And now resident romantic, Tigerman, addresses his bride-to-be, whoever she might be.

Dear Little Ms. Skeptic A.K.A. Future Mrs. Tigerman,

Yes. I know. It’s been a while.

You think I don’t realize that the last time I wrote one of these public love letters to you was three months ago? I do. I may be a Bass player but I’m not an idiot. I don’t care what Slate might say, I’m not.

You may be wondering why it has taken so long for me to write to you. Well, it’s because the barbarians that run this band, G Mod and the abhorrent non-singer Slate, figured that the best thing for this band’s blog was to focus on some melodramatic plot line that mirrors both the economic crisis as well as every single post-Hamlet hackneyed revenge drama ever written. As far as I know, they will continue in this direction whether I’d like them to or not. It is of no consequence.

My dear sweet lady whose name and face I may or may not have burnt into my psyche already… how could you ever doubt that I love you, even for a millisecond? I mean seriously. I have spent three entire blog entries confessing how much I love/will love you and you still have doubts in that beautiful heart of yours that resides in that presumably lovely bosom of yours.

What? Some have claimed that my feelings for you are falsehoods that were manufactured simply just to lure you into my Tiger’s den? Blasphemers! How could you believe such idle gossip so easily after all my professions of potential love? I am besides myself with grief.

Who was the originator of these false words of falseness? Slate? That cur... That venomous serpent has poisoned you against me with his lies and…and…his lies and deception. This is an outrage of egregious proportions. Here I wanted to write a letter that praised your brilliantly blue/green/brown/black/ (insert eye color here) and your famously wavy/curly/straight/shaved hair. But now all of that is ruined because of the villainous slander that Slate has committed by turning you against me, the one and only love of your life. You know that you are the only one for me…until I meet my future second wife.

I’m sorry. I cannot continue to write when that dragon tattooed wannabe singer roams the halls laughing at me. I will…talk to him. Yes, that’s what I’ll do.

Sorry that I couldn’t be more romantic.

Sincerely,

Your first husband

Tigerman

Tigerman is a self-taught bass player as well as a six foot tall anthropomorphic tiger creature. He spends all of the time he isn’t playing music talking about his future wives. We’re not even sure why he even bothers doing this segment anymore, besides the fact that he signed up to do five of these entries. It’d be funny if it weren’t so ****ing tragic. Here’s some great music to get you through the night.