Dear Google of Yahoos.

A grandmother sits at a table with a typewriter, she types a few final words, stops and pulls the paper out.

Grammy : Dear google of yahoos, did you see that? I made a pun! Let me explain myself to you before I explain why I'm writing to you. I am a grandmother of five. A mother of three. My eldest, Sammy works in construction. He's had problems with drugs in his life, but with the strength of God and his wife's watchful eye, it is my understanding that he has beaten his afflicted addictions and is a more contributive member of the community. His wife, Helen, is his high school sweetheart. She works at the bank. Their children Samuel the III, my late husband Samuel was the first, and Molly are fifteen and twelve, respectively. I don't know what they are interested in.

Grammy takes a sip of water.

Grammy : My second oldest, Betty, was named after the classic beauty, Betty Boop. It was my hope in naming her that she would find stardom on the screen and one day become the next Natalie Wood, with out the whole drugs and drowning. It is strange that I've now mentioned drugs with my two children, no? She has never dabbled that I know of, though, she did go to college and is now twenty-nine. She has three children with her husband, who is a lawyer. Very successful! The three children are aged from fourteen months to six years old. They all love to swim and can't imagine a world outside of their loving home. Every weekend they go to the city park, which has a very large and enjoyable jungle gym on a manmade island in a pond. One time the oldest thought that if you tap your finger on the top of the water by the shore, little fish would come up and talk to you. She is also the first one to explain to me what "mooning" is. My understanding is that "mooning" happens when you expose your buttocks to another person to make them laugh or shriek. Children are very precocious. Betty's middle child is kind of slow, and I think has been diagnosed with Down Syndrome. I am sure you can imagine the guilt and difficulty of raising a child like this. The youngest, named Penelope, as I've said is just fourteen months old, but we all have high hopes for her.

Grammy drinks another sip of water. She loses her teeth in it. She fishes them out with her finger and puts them back in.

Grammy : Finally, my youngest son, Brian. He is a gay and I don't talk to him anymore.

She pauses, thoughtfully.

Grammy : Now to tell you my thoughts. I view the internet as a problem. I don't understand it, nor do I want to. While it may make life easier for some, it has actually made my life more difficult. At my age, I don't want to learn something new, nor do I want to stop all human contact by ordering my groceries, clothing, or spouse "online," as you say. Actually, because I have not become acclimated with the internet or computers, I don't know if any of the above is true. I don't know anything about my family, or even if they're alive because all they do is sit on the internet and send these Instant Messages I hear about on the news. I'm sure you are familiar, instant messages are how men who do ghastly things to little girls and boys contact those little girls and boys? They don't even have phones now, my family, not the perverts, because everyone else is so accessible by internet. The only thing I do know, is, my youngest is a gay and I don't talk to him. Please, stop the internets. Sincerely, Rosette D Mileau.