How to demolish an entire civilization and still feel good about yourself.

This is an email I recently wrote.
I seriously think I am so funny.
Thus, I am sharing it on my blog.

I have one thing to say to you: I am traveling through time today. Figuratively speaking, of course.

No. Really. I'm wearing a red coat, with big buttons. And tall, black boots. My hair is curly, like the way an English judge from 1776 would wear his wig.
I didn't realize it until I stepped outside, and then the realization hit me: I look like a British soldier, a redcoat, an enemy of the people, a soldier of war. This was especially apparent in the way pedestrians were eying me from the sidewalks and from inside their apartments. As I marched to class, (yes, really) with my shoulder bag strung haphazardly over my back and a loaded musket in each hand, children and puppies fled from my presence, screaming: The British are coming! The British are coming... again!
Last semester I gave a presentation on Benjamin Franklin. I tried to convince Daphne that if she joined me wearing knee-length knickerbockers and a long, white wig, we would make my presentation A+ material. She didn't buy it. I would have done it, but I wasn't nearly tall enough. Plus, I thought it would be better if Mr. Franklin simply ambled around the room, stared at various members of the class through his bifocals and occasionally touched them, creepily, on the shoulders.

Now I know why she wouldn't do it.

After I take the quiz in my next class that I'm supposed to be studying for, I am going to remove this red coat, hang it in my closet, and never speak or think about it again.

If you own a red coat with similar properties, I beg you to do the same.

Sincerely, your most loving friend,
Joslynn