Dear Rob,
You don't know me, but I feel as though I know you. That's because I've made colossal mistakes in my life, just as you seem to have the habit of doing. As a fellow traveler through time, I want to warn you that the jackals are getting worked up, big time. There's blood in the dirt, and people who call themselves "reporters" are trying frantically to create news by goading, taunting, and crowding the wounded bull. Your brother wants you to take a little time off, and that's not in your nature, but it's good advice. I, too, have a brother, and once in a while he comes up with good advice. You want to fight the world right now, and the "reporters" would love it, so they could document every misstep you make.
Who among us has never had too much to drink? Who among us has never tried a banned substance? OK, I suppose there are a few who haven't. A president from my country, Abraham Lincoln, (you may have heard of him), once said, "It has been my experience that those with no vices have few virtues". You're a big guy who makes big mistakes, and you have a loyal following called "Ford Nation". How many of your clucking, horrified critics have nations named for them?
You'll probably never read this letter, but if, by chance, you do, please know it comes from the heart of a man who knows pain and knows how to laugh so hard it hurts. Rock On, Dude!
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