Helping Papa

The BadPuppy isn't even a year old and already wants to help Daddy with work. Not only is Puppy not even fazed anymore when Daddy's head repeatedly fills the new REC's-head-shaped-dent in front of the keyboard in the home office, she howls and yelps with him in unison, demanding to sit on his lap and help.

Today I let her help me write an answer template for mail I too often have to send.

Dear ____________,

Your response makes less sense than an unemployed art history major protesting cheap instant ramen. Considering the current economic situation it's really unfair that someone like you has a job like this when there are so many qualified and capable people out there still unemployed.

If you ask a question, you have acknowledged that the person who is answering it knows more than you. That means you don't argue with the answer before even trying it, following the instructions you were given exactly.

You are a fuckwit and this ticket is closed for "Customer Refusal".

Love,
My daddy.

OK, I translated it for her since she's still working on her first yips and barks. What she actually bashed out (before drooling like a bull mastiff all over the space bar sending me into an enforced work time-out) was

iadsdsaklöl ä####ä

ö

sdaae21d21-l
ö

dwqe12e21,m,mmlölöqdwmkl
<xx<<lppü+<

+
+
+üö

#
ö#

löö

lklm
lkmxqdwl
ömdqwl,m,mnmn

That's still a few orders of magnitude more intelligent and congruent than most of the shit that appears in my Inbox. They grow up so quickly.