Hey Dot! Reader mail from Browns coach Mike Pettine

Polar votex edition! Let's get straight to the mail bag.

Hey Dot! I'm a money laundering senior fleecing pimp. In other words, a Republican. I've stitched up the endorsement of my county Democratic party for county executive. How do I keep the wool pulled over their eyes? 

Signed, Armond Budish

Back in the day, I knew a few pimps. Told 'em to keep their distance or else they'd see my handbag from the other side of their eyeballs. Don't worry, eventually they'll catch onto your racket and climb aboard the gravy train. Then they'll knife you in the back like you deserve, you'll spend a few decades pushing money bags around in the Fourth Circle, and end up trying to bribe your way past the pearly gates. Fun!

Hey Dot! This polar vortex stuff proves there ain't no climate change like I always said. How do I get people to listen to me like they listen to you? 

Signed, Kevin O'Brien, PD whore

I ran this by Carl Sagan at Barnaby's usual stitch 'n bitch over a Tom Collins. Outer space is colder than Wilma Smith's left tit. If your atmosphere is melting, outer space moves in. Then, the planet becomes a frozen rock. Not complicated. Geez, that Fourth Circle is gonna be crowded.

Hey Dot! I just got hired as the new Browns coach. They tell me to rent, not buy. I heard you used to have a pad in Shaker Square. What's the rent? 

Signed, Mike Pettine, Browns Head Coach

I ran you past Pete Franklin after a vigorous whip and chain session this morning. Pete laughed so hard, his dentures popped out onto my heaving bosom. So here's the deal. Back off, baldy. Ol' Dot still uses that place every now and then when I get bored. Besides, you look like a McMansion Walmart furniture Pergo flooring type to me, I don't trust you low rent drifters around my Tiffany liquor cabinet, not to mention the mahogany. Don't know what mahogany is? Didn't think so.

Hey Dot! I stopped by VTR last night and asked for your cocktail. Still nothing. Can I get the copyright and do my own? 

Signed, Sam McNulty, Ohio City Liquor Grand Poobah

You don't think I know Mr. Fancy Pants is draggin' his feet? Listen kid, Ol' Dot has standards. Swill palaces crawling with posing douchebags doin' the white man's overbite to Bruce Springsteen ain't it.  But tell you what - you can name a beer vat after me. Just make sure it's brass.

That's reader mail! Back to pounding the pavement for my scoop.