Good morning Hank, it's Thursday August second and I'm in an airport because I am on my way to Los Angeles. I'm going to the conference of a society of writers. I like conferences and I like writers. I'm iffy on societies, but I can get behind them.

So I'm pretty excited about this thing except the only problem is that instead of having it right here in beautiful Indianapolis, Indiana, they for some reason insist on having it in Los Angeles.

Hank, congratulations on another brilliant song. I thought that one might have been your best yet. It actually inspired me to do a song of my own.

It's quite jokes, it's quite jokes in here, although running my AC is screwing up the atmosphere, it's quite jokes.

Hank, as has been pretty well documented on this video blow, I'm not a big fan of traveling via airplane. In fact there's only two things I like about airports; pretzels and video games. What I like about pretzels is that they're not so much a food in it of themselves so much as they're a vehicle for salt and butter.

Hank, there was one other part of your song that I thought was really interesting, and that was the part where you started to make out with the fan. When you were making out with that fan, I kept thinking to myself, "Don't stick your tongue out, don't stick your tongue out, don't stick your tongue out, don't stick your tongue out, don't stick your tongue out" and I'll tell you why. It's because when I was in college I saw a guy stick his tongue into a fan and it hurt. At the time, we were playing a game of "I Will". Hank, I don't know if I ever told you the rules of "I Will" but it basically went like this; I would say, "I will lick the cat for"- would you stop talking heightened security measures guy- I would say... uh... "I'll lick the cat for five dollars" and then someone else would say, "I'll lick the cat for four dollars" and so on until someone licked the cat for a nickel. I can't remember the exact price we ended up paying the guy who stuck his tongue into the box fan, but it was something in the neighborhood of, like, eight dollars, and so he was all like, he was all like, [John imitates someone sticking their tongue into a fan] and then when he got done screaming he was like, "gimme my eight dollars guys".

And speaking of potentially having to stick your tongue into a box fan, somebody's about to get punished, and tragically, that somebody is not you. The extraordinarily hard working nerdfighters in My Pants have found a textual communication that I apparently made to you on January 11, 2007. The actual textual communication was something like, "Hank, you should feel free to edit this". If I had said "Hank should feel free to edit this", I would've been fine. It's the "you" that killed me. Stupid!

By the way, I'm in Denver now, but it's the exact same because, uh, all airports everywhere are the same. It's like they all call each other and say, "Hey, did you get the airport concrete?" And all the airport authorities are like, "You guys got the gray walls? Everybody got the gray walls? The, uh, the silver window panes? Good."

Anyway, Hank, I look forward to reading everyone's punishment suggestions. Remember, if The Yeti vetoes it, I don't have to do it, and I'll see you tomorrow.