Dear Bears,
Please do something. Please do anything. You possess a metric fuck-ton of salary cap room, you have no offensive weapons outside of Forte and Hester (when he's not being a brain-addled, barely functional retard), your secondary is a disaster, and to date in free agency you are sitting with your collective thumb up your collective ass, staring agape at the carnage with a face not entirely dissimilar to Spaceman Spiff's when he saw a pair of breasts for the first time. (Unfortunately, they were his, but that's a story for another time.)
Thus far in the offseason, you have released the corpses of Marty Booker and Mike Brown and overhauled the defense's coaching staff. If you think you're going to take the North with that, Jerry Angelo, you're dumber than I generally think.
I understand getting pantsed on Terrell Owens; that would have been a borderline signing, anyway. But you let Houshmandzadeh go to Seattle without barely talking to him, Darren Sharper was only too happy to hop, skip and jump to New Orleans (it looks like), and I wouldn't be shocked if you let Torry Holt go somewhere without so much as a phone call. Your stated offseason priority is re-signing John fucking St. Clair, who can't go three snaps without a holding call. God damn it, Bears. Fuck you.
Kyle Orton is my God and Matt Forte the bringer of His message. Give the boys some support, and maybe look at your linebackers and safeties and try building a defense that doesn't collapse like the motherfucking French military. A rice cooker generates enough pressure to make the Bears' defense lose its shit. This is a problem, and if you're waiting for the draft to cure all your ills, then go blow it out your ass, Angelo.
Love,
Tim