Somebody sent Jersey City Mayor Steven Fulop an envelope yesterday that contained a letter — which discussed “spiritual stuff” — a photo of Tim Tebow, and, of course, some white powder. This prompted a hazmat scare that caused the evacuation of city hall, which lasted about an hour. Police aren’t revealing what was in the letter, but through KSK’s extensive network of sources, we have obtained a copy of it and are reprinting it in full below:
TO: Steven Fulop, family and friends
Dear Mayor Fulop. How are you? Well, enough chit chat.
I am writing to you about the current quarterback situation of the New York Jets. I am sure you know some people who can get the wheels turning on that front, which is why I have reached out to you. Also, when I wrote to Rex Ryan, I had two deputies show up at my apartment. They are now resting peacefully.
As you know, our beloved Jets are 5-5 and currently cling to a wildcard spot. But they are fading. Geno Smith just is not getting the job done. And David Garrard? Let us not kid ourselves. I think you and I both know it is time for a change. Perhaps it is time to take a second look at someone we might have kicked to the curb a little too soon.
How many billboards will it take to convince NFL executives that Tim Tebow is a top-tier quarterback? Just look at the one they put up in Jacksonville. But you know that Tim Tebow does not want to play in Jacksonville. Jacksonville is a weird place. It is too clean. Its hotels charge you $14.95 for channels that depict fornication even after telling the manager you clicked on it by accident. And Tim Tebow is tired of people walking up to him and asking him to lay hands on them. “Please, Mr. Tebow, if you would but press your fingers against the cold sore on my lip, women would finally stop nagging me to wrap up my junk.” No way. Maybe you shouldn’t have pissed off God. No, Tim Tebow is ready for the Big Time. The New York spotlight.
How do I know? Because Tim Tebow made a pilgrimmage one evening to East Rutherford after a couple of CFL coaches said very blasphemous things to him after a tryout. Or so a friend told me. Suddenly, he saw a bright light in the sky, and a voice boomed forth: “Timothy.” Tim Tebow fell to the ground, his face buried in the soil. “Yes, oh Angel of Light.” And the voice responded, “Get up, for the place where you are lying is steeped in raw sewage. Go unto Jersey City over yonder, and to the dumpster behind the Duane Reade on River Drive. Kill the fatted rat that lies there, and consume its heart. You will then become the Chosen One, preordained to lead the Jets to a 9-7 record and a narrow loss to the Colts in the playoffs after Nick Folk misses a 42-yard field goal because of a high snap by Tanner Purdum. Now go!”
Please, Mayor Fulop, I know you can do something. I have included a signed 8×10 glossy photo of Mr. Tebow, personalized to you and your loved ones, which I had to get through a friend because, as you know, I am not Tim Tebow. I had to dig through a lot of banana peels and coffee grounds to get the names of everyone, so I hope you appreciate the effort.
Also, as a special gift for you, I have sprinkled an amazing little powder in this envelope that I call “Angel Dust.” No, no, not the illegal drug, which is an abomination. Unlike that powder, which makes you think you are meeting Jesus, this powder will turn you into a real angel and allow you to meet the real Jesus. Is that not exciting? You might know it by its more common name: weapons-grade anthrax.
Silly cabin haystack carburetor,
NOT Tim Tebow
123 Fake Street