By Tony Mochama via Facebook
Dear Mrs.Yahoo, when we first met a dozen years ago, you were fab. The in-thing. Even your name spelled backwards (like trying to find Satan in a rock song), sort of, was funky – hooray! Ok, maybe not quite, but ‘ooh ya’ .. kinda orgasmik. Then ukaanza kunizoea, na kuleta aibu na madharau ndogo ndogo, alafu kubwa. Siku hizi we ni mbwa! You have let yourself go, degenerated so, that I find it impossible to stay true to my vows.
You take me for granted by no longer taking all my messages. You no longer allow me full access to your ‘in box’ and when I am away, sometimes get hacked by strangers. You have lots of trash talk (including vile references to where we can get our membership size increased), you don’t take out the trash, and in fact our house looks like one large trash-can.
You are an angel turned tart. And I have a new sweetheart. I am sorry I started seeing her behind your back a few months ago, but now she’s my G, my GF, wears a G .. okay, let me not rub it in ( by the way, she’s four years younger than you). I guess this note on the refrigerator is my way of saying goodbye, and for all the memories, I would be lying if I say I’ll miss you.
Me and Miss G will be moving to email@example.com tonight.
And if I spot you so much as passing over our porch, or sidewalk, even as a forward, I swear I will take a restraining order out on you/shoot you on sight, or make sure the last thought on your mind is a song – ‘who let the dogs out?’