To Our Universal Co-Worker

Dear Public Radio,

I like you. I really do. I understand that you need money. I understand that need because I, too, need money. It is because we have that in common that we get along so well. What I don't understand is why you keep thinking I'll give you some of mine. You give me many things, for sure, but even though you beg and plead and gravel and whine I know there are people out there who feed you. I know I should too, really, but I can't. You're like a stray that keeps coming back to me even though I can't keep you. But I'll listen to you as long as you're here, I promise. If you go away, I'll probably miss you, but I won't miss your guilt trips and cries of wolf. And to those people who tell that the money they are giving you is really from their cat/dog/rabbit/infant child who loves to listen to you since they leave the house and expect that you'll babysit them, please, please, call them back and tell them to find a good home for them instead where they can be cared for by something other than a talking plastic box.

Sincerely,
Your Occasionally Faithful Listener