“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes, Johnson. Please sit down. Now, about the letter I asked you to write.”

“You mean that form letter that we’re going to send out to all the people we’re planning on suing for copyright infringement?”

“That’s the one. I read it over last night and -“

“Isn’t it a great letter, sir? I think it’s one of my best. Shall I instruct the legal department to start sending it out?”

“No, I don’t think it’s quite ready for the mail yet.”

“Oh? What’s wrong with the letter, sir?”

“Well…”

“Wait a second. Don’t tell me. Is it the part about how we’re going to sue everybody who infringes upon the work of our artists? That if they’re offering songs by Shania Twain and Elton John on file-sharing networks, we’re going to sue them into the next century? But I thought you wanted the letter to be forceful.”

“That part of the letter is fine, Johnson. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about -“

“I’ll bet it’s that part where I tell them not only do we know which songs they’re infringing, like the latest by Sheryl Crow or George Strait, but that we also know where they live, and that we’re watching them very, very closely? Is that what’s bothering you about the letter?”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Oh, wait a minute. I know what it is. You’re worried about the part where I tell them about our elite, RIAA hit squads that will come knocking on their doors in the middle of the night looking for illicit copies of songs by David Bowie, Dierks Bentley and Bryan Adams. I could soften that part.”

“Er… No, Johnson. What I wanted to talk to you about is -“

“I know! It’s the part in the letter where I tell them that if we catch them copying and distributing any more songs by Barenaked Ladies or Phish, that we’re going to kidnap their closest relatives and hold them for ransom.”

“Hmmm… I don’t remember that part. No matter. What I wanted to discuss with you is -“

“Then you must be talking about that last part, where I warn them that we’re going to come to their house, tie them up, then poke out their eyes with knitting needles and jam ice picks up their ear canals if they don’t stop copying and distributing songs by Aerosmith, Hilary Duff and Eric Clapton. Is that what’s bothering you about the letter, sir?”

“Er… Not exactly, Johnson, but this letter is not ready for the mail. We can’t send it out like this.”

“I don’t get it, sir. If you have no problem with kidnapping, tying them up, and sticking sharp, pointed objects in their eyes and ears, then what part of the letter do you have a problem with? Why can’t we send it out like this?”

“You see, Johnson, it’s -“

“Lemme, guess. You’re wimping out. And I thought the RIAA was an organization that stands up for what it believes in, an organization that isn’t afraid of public opinion. Yet, you don’t have the cajones to send one, strongly written letter like this one.”

“No, Johnson. It’s not that.”

“Then what is it? Why can’t we send this letter just as it’s written? Sir??”

“You forgot to sign it.”