Letter to the Editor from Matthew Dockery, Cal Poly student
I’d like to begin by openly stating that I am against everything you stand for. It disturbs, angers, and disgusts me that you can even fathom using the level of intimidation, hate speech, and – if I’m being perfectly honest – poorly crafted language. Your sensationalism may be lapped up by those who are already lost to your “alt-right,” but I will not. I see you for what you are.
My name is Matthew Dockery. I am a fourth year English student here at Cal Poly, and I sincerely hope you forget my name. This is because I will forget yours. I have no use for a fire like yours; a fire which takes and takes from those around it, and provides nothing but chills and darkness in return.
Milo Yiannopoulo, I don’t need you in my life. None of us do.
Milo Yiannopoul, I won’t protest your talk on my campus. That would give you far too much credit.
Milo Yiannopou, your cold may scare many in my position, but it will not scare me.
Milo Yiannopo, I think that I know how to protect myself from your cold, I have no twigs or kindling for you to turn to ice.
Milo Yiannop, I can think of no place I would rather be than in front of a real fire, reading a book on Tuesday.
Milo Yianno, perhaps I will attend the concert Cal Poly United will be hosting instead, though. They really deserve my kindling.
Milo Yiann, if I wanted to see someone with style give a talk, I would settle for any other Macklemore knockoff.
Milo Yian, your fire will be quenched by the great warm wave of good intentions and love which the rest of the queer community have for each other.
Milo Yia, you may measure your worth by the number of twigs which are thrown to you, but the rest of us do not.
Milo Yi, I believe that history will forget your fire.
You, Milo Y, are a fire which continues to be fanned and fed by the attention which you so crave.
I, Milo, will not be there on Tuesday to give you that attention.
This, Mil, will be the last that you hear from me, hopefully, ever.
Mi, it is my sincerest hope that I will never need to feel that wintry touch you leave on me again.
M… what was your name again? It seems I’ve already forgotten.