Dearest Joe Don Baker,

I seem to think that you're a man of power of some kind. This can be more or less described as my revelation after watching "Ring of Steel" and finding out that the hunky blonde hero was not Joe Don Baker. How dare you sir? How dare you indeed? I looked like a fool calling the blonde pony-boy star of the film Joe Don Baker again and again. How was I to know?
But now onto matters of business. As you were the undisputed impetus and plot-wise second banana, why not assist me in broadcasting live sword-fighting? No reason not to. I've got it all worked out and am certain that it will be the most exciting thing ever seen off the shores of America.
I need a boat. A large boat. Hydro-Electricity-Powered-Inflatable- Sailed-Energy-Ship. I will require state of the art satellite broadcasting and receiving technology. It must have Inflatable-Sails.Nuclear- Powered-Hydrogen-Filled-Nectating-Intra-Vascular shafts of micro-weaved carbon-fiber wings. Vast fields of high technology broadcasting crazy bastards like myself. No less than three Green-Screen studios providing the most sinisterly unbiased reporting of our young generation.
More importantly a stage I may command, until the end of time,the Ultimate Sword-fighting Challenge. Peasants are fucking tired of laying down our lives for petty squabbles among world leaders. For the most part we enjoy breeding, eating, humping, and being entertained. Sub-Aquatic-Geodesic-Domes are the answer. The only answer that will workafter the word is covered entirely in water and/or ice.
We can only hope to be buried by glaciers once again. So much fresh water shed upon us like mana from heaven. Refill the fertile crescent with rich, clean, frozen water. A result of our womb raping conquest to see how much fuel can be drawn via pipe. Reverse abort.
Joe Don Baker, join me. Our goals are absolute. Or victory assured. And most importantly, our place in Hell secured for all time between the rock stars and loose women.

Regards,

Jeremiah Tavis Stenerson Liend