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Sir,

And I quote, from your much respected crime and society reporter, Ned Burner: "Foppish dandy and social parasite, Donald Love, and his friends at the IRS, should make up their minds ­ does he live in Liberty City or not? For a man who claims to want civic office in this town, he should decide if he lives here or not - and pay city taxes, if indeed he does live here, and stay away if he does not. The business mogul, with allegedly exotic tastes in entertainment has become a regular on the Liberty City social scene over the past few years and maintains a sumptuous apartment for entertaining his guests, but still does not pay any city or state taxes. This man, worth many millions of dollars, is freeloading off our city. Of course, we expect our moguls to be tasteless, brutal and irritating people, but we do also expect them, occasionally, to pay tax as well. When contacted regarding this story, Mr. Love was unavailable for comment."

Could you please ask Mr. Burner to go a little easy? Tax law is incredibly complex, while libel law is remarkably easy. Assassins are even easier to arrange. Thank you and good day.

Sergio Boccino is an over-emotional pedophile with a terrifying Oedipus complex and a complete lack of understanding of the music he plays. His continued presence on the radio in this town is a disgrace to civic decency and a disaster for the cultural life of everybody.

Besides which, in his house, hidden under his spare bed, a policeman or investigative reporter would find a lot of pornographic materials of exactly the kind that should ensure his sorry Italian ass is deported forthwith and never allowed to darken our airwaves, or our exotic saunas and bath houses again.

Dear Liberty Tree,

The internet is unambiguous evil. The only things worse than the internet are computer games and liberals. The fact of the matter is our Constitution clearly protects us against the internet. They had foresight, to go along with their wooden teeth, and the Constitution clearly alludes to "unwanted connectivity".

We want to turn the internet off before this parasite swallows all of us. The fact is, this may be an e-mail, but I am revolted with myself, and will punish myself, vigorously. We need to be free from the internet. It's getting mankind in a hideous and vice-like grip and before you know it, our lives, which were once perfect, will be reduced to nothing but cyber sex and learning things we have no business knowing, like the fact the government lies, or you can safely go on vacation outside the old 48 contiguous. It's revolting, and we're all suffering.

Only last week, I was using the internet to look up some information for my 15 year old niece, who is a keen water skier and state wide sailor. Trust me when I say this - searching under the subject matter "Teenage girls water sports" is not for the faint hearted. The fact is people who care about our society really should join our society. CLICK WWW.CITIZENSUNITEDNEGATINGTECHNOLOGY.ORG FOR MORE DETAILS.

They are all mutants and in the end they will all burn in hell. Dogs don't live long, especially when you run over them while walking so fast with an aunt on your back, making you happy. If you are ready for a lot of action, CLICK HERE with very good times for men, with bigger breasts, more hair and big buttocks, everything you wanted! Yeah we'll see whatever you do, come here and have all the pretty girls do you special favors. A fat ass is an overweight donkey. www.newmarketingreadthis.com/htdocs/go/

DEAR NED,

Firstly, thanks for the money, but I thought we said twenty thousand, not five thousand? Secondly, do you think I'm a fucking idiot? I think we both know that in my own way, I am a man of my word. I have always been honest with you, and I will be honest again.

Pay me, or I'll get some nasty guys I know to do nasty things to you and everyone you hold dear.

Now, I realize in your case you don't hold many people dear, so it makes it difficult for me to show you I mean business without terminating your unhappy spell on this earth rather too quickly for me to get my money. So, I will stick to making non-idle threats.

Pay me my money, or I will get someone to do unpleasant things to you with a meat cleaver, a bottle of household bleach and a hockey puck.

Pay me.

I told you about our Italian friends and our friends in the Mayor's office. You got your story. Now give me my money. I tried leaving you a message but your machine is full. What are you doing? Spending my money on booze and broads? If I hear that, trust me, the pain that will come down on you is going to be a whole lot worse. I am not joking here, NED. Be sensible.

I've got the full protection of the law and a very nasty temper. Remember what happened to my last partner? His kids are growing up without a daddy.

I beg you ­ pay me the money ­ so I don't have to watch a dog eat your balls and listen to you spend the rest of your god awful life squealing like the eunuch you really are.

Anyway, friend, good talking. We must do this more often. I expect I will hear from you soon.

Your pal, Leon.

Hey,

I got your email from this guy I know, but that's not important.

So, listen, I heard you wanted some information on the workings of organized crime in this town, and were prepared to pay for it. Well, what I'm saying to you, is that I am seriously connected in that world, and could have you killed in about five minutes, but if you offer the right price, then I'll tell you everything, and I mean everything you need to know about the Leone crime family, about the Forelli's and the other guys. And trust me – I know the truth!!! But, I need money (and not a hundred bucks or something dumb like that) so, how much can you pay? I need the money. And obviously, I mean cash. I'm not a bank! But I owe someone money who is also not a bank (in fact he's a speed dealer, and not a nice one!) Get back to me and maybe we can do some business. Trust me! You'll not regret it!

Y2K is coming.

You know what that means.

Computers will be launching nuclear bombs in your neighborhood, all because they haven't got enough numbers.

Are you prepared?

It is inevitable that when clocks restart, everything screws up. Possible Y2K problems include nuclear apocalypse, drought, mass starvation, plague, all prison and mental home inmates being let out in your neighborhood, and so on. Be prepared. This time the worst is coming.

Only the strong will survive. We guarantee it.

Check out www.ammunation.net for all of your post apocalyptic provisions and defense systems the whole family can enjoy.

Ned, good to finally talk to you the other day.

You know what I always say?

Well, no, of course, you don't. We've never met. And also, I don't always say the same thing. I'm not a god damn parrot. I am a success story. And I didn't get where I am today by acting like a sissy, or giving into bullies. No sir. I got where I am today by stabbing people in the back, bribing and threatening people and generally making a nuisance of myself. That and artificially manipulating property prices.

So, Ned, how about it? What do you make? A newspaperman? 60, 70 grand? Well, write what I want and I'll pay you 200 grand, in cash. Have we got a deal? I'd recommend you say yes, because if you try and play hardball with me, I'll have you killed, and be proud of myself for doing so.

Business is like war, only without the Geneva Convention to hold us back.

May the best man win.

So listen, Ned, dear boy, take the money and start telling the truth about the mayor.

We all know that Hole has been taking bribes from the mob for years and is in bed with some of the biggest names in American construction.

Some, but not me. Either we correct that, or we disgrace him, or we kill him. Come on Ned. Tell the world. The man is a fraud and a liar and a crappy politician.

We gotta save this town. You and me.

Carrington.

Yo Liberty Tree! Wassup?

Yeah, this is the voice of the streets speaking to you. Jesus Sentenz, but my boys call me Max. I just wanted to right to your paper, cause I wanted to talk about how haters have been hitting on tha Avenging Angels and how lame and fake that is. I know there has been a lot (and I mean a LOT) of bad press relating to the Avenging Angels in this city (and remember, these streets is my streets, and I know the streets, man, and the streets ain't nuttin' nice, you know what I'm sayin, you know the deal) but that's straight bullshit.

I mean, if ignorant people wanna come to MY town, to MY place and tell me to MY face, yeah if they wanna get in MY face and start with the dissin and the disrespectin and all that shit, brother, then, for real, I'm gonna put there weak ass bullshit faker ass down, man. Put them DOWN. The angels is positive - and never negative. We a force for good.

People wanna diss me, when I'm positive then I'm gonna react in the way the streets showed me. Kick the shit outta them and put 'em in tha hospital. But, now hear this for real, man, we form the Avenging Angels to clean up these streets, cause the streets ain't nuthin' nice (you KNOW what i mean, dog, I KNOW you feel me on this) cause the cops don't know the streets (not tha real streets, not tha not-nice streets, and the streets ain't nuthin' nice, son).. the cops don't stop no crime, the cops don't help people and all that, the cops ain't positive, man. Real street cats can't be down with no cops, not when cops don't know the streets, and streets ain't nuthin' nice, and all that. But, for real, Avenging Angels is positive man. We protect street people from tha streets, and the streets from street people. Cause the streets respect the Avenging Angels man, and if they don't, we put them down on tha streets.

I know kung fu, man. Black belt, for real, bitch, and you wanna fight ME? You a hard rock? Now, right, hear me on this, Angels right, we had a few times when tha wrong guy got hurt, or even wurse, like that old lady, who looked just like a drug dealer and got beaten to death, right, but she was kind of shady, no doubt, and we thought for real that thing in her ear was rocks, you know, caine, the number one killa, and not a hearing aid, but you know, everyone makes mistakes and you show me someone whose hasn't bin falsely incarcerated or shot by police and I'll show you a liar. Straight up.

So when fakers is sayin' ban tha Angels, I'll show and prove man, you CAN'T ban me. You try to ban me, Im gonna come and show you exactly who knows tha streets, for real. Angels is positive, man, and I'm positive, and never negative, you get in my way, from protecting these streets, which ain't nuthin' nice, and I'm gonna take you down. Anyone trize to stop me from my protecting my streets and keeping them nuthin' nice, then they getting' the real meaning of street justice.

For realah.

One!!

Dear Liberty Tree,

Thank you for thinking about supporting our campaign to ban motorcycles from the streets of Liberty City. As you know we at Maibatsu are highly committed to making America a better, safer, healthier, kinder, more family friendly place, through the judicious use of our cars. The facts remain that since the rise in popularity of the motorcycle over the past four years, American society has really turned to shit. People are designed to drive cars, not bikes. That's why god gave us all this oil. So we could burn it, and make everyone happy. Motorbikes neither consume enough fuel, nor do they protect children from the evils of pornography or drugs as effectively as cars.

Independent studies have revealed 9 out of 10 motorcycle riders in prison have committed a crime. That's shocking. But that's the America we live in today. One hi-jacked by corporate greed and people trying to get their own way, irrelevant of what the Constitution says, or people think. And it's all the fault of motorcycles. Teenage pregnancies, drug abuse, so-called global warming (another hideous liberal lie, but don't get me started on that), poverty, crime - the motorcycle is to blame. Let's get people back into cars. It's the American way. I do hope the Liberty Tree will support us in our quest, and I also hope you at the newspaper will find the donation of $2 million useful in any way you deem suitable.

God bless America!

Patriotically yours,

The Maibatsu Corporation of America.

Pop music just got worse! Liberty City's LIPS 106 can now be heard on the world wide web!

Visit www.lips106FM.com

Ned, it's Jimmy. Listen, man. I really need your help. I'm screwed. People are saying I use performance enhancing drugs. It's going to ruin me.

I've been signed as a leading spokesman for both Burger Shot and The Glory Hole Theme Park based on my family friendly approach to football. Now I'm going to get falsely exposed as a drug using liar. I am NOT a drug using liar. I am a performance enhancing product using guy who is economical with the truth. But that's besides the point.

The point is, since I paid you off not to run that story about me beating eight kinds of shit out of that groupie slut, I really need the money those contracts are going to bring in. I mean, I understand it - fast food companies and theme parks are ethical companies who don't want their product sullied by a drug user. But I never used any drugs I didn't need, either to make my muscles bigger or to relax when with hookers. That ain't cheating. My wife never found out. Come on' Ned. Tell me that don't count? Come on, man. I'm clean. Check my piss.

Anyway, this guy is all over me like a couple of Thai hookers. Or three of them, but one's got an Adam's Apple. You know? You gotta help me, man. I'll pay. Whatever it takes. Please Ned! My knee is shot. I ain't gonna have many more paydays like this. Make the guy leave me alone.

Dear Personal Advice,

For many years now I have lived in a prison, or a gilded cage. I am a song bird who has lost her song. I am a waterfall that has dried up. I am sorrow but no joy. Tears without laughter. The crust without the loaf. Do you know what I mean? Of course.

I sense you understand me, even though we have never met and you may well be an automated response. I married a husk. I married a wax work. I married feet of clay without a body on top.

He seemed like a man. He looked like a man. He does manly things. But he is not a man. He is a shell. He is rind but no bacon. He is a dog without a bone. What is wrong with me? Am I not a woman, with needs, with soul? How did life turn itself into this. I had dreams.

Now, I sit at home. I have no friends. I am ignored. I am getting VERY desperate. I will do anything to be free. Help me. I have turned to the poets and found them no use in this instance.

What should I do next?

Ned, Ten grand? What do you think I am? A coke whore? Is that it? I mean, really, I spend ten grand on lunch. Often. I hardly do coke ever, aside from at breakfast, so that ain't the problem.

I told you owe my speed dealer a lot of money. Ten grand ain't enough. No. Let's make it a hundred. Okay, so this it e you listening. You'll be glad you spent all that money on this Salvatore Leone ain't all the man he's cracked up to be. I heard from someone very close to him, who is not a liar or a coke whore, thank very much, that some times he can't get it up even after he takes those blue pills, and also that his right hand man, Vincenzo Cilli, is not loyal to him, or doesn't respect him. What about that? That's a story in itself. Plus the Leones are planning to take over the whole town. So come on, Ned, gimme the money, or I'll get mad. But you didn't hear it from me.

-----Original Message-----

From: BURNER@LIBERTYTREENEWSPAPER.COM

To: mad__maria@hotmail.com

Subject: RE: VALUABLE INFORMATION

Hey, Mad Maria good to hear from you. What did you have in mind? Of course, I'll pay for information. But I need evidence have to be able to run a real story. That's how the press works. We only make it up when the people we are talking about won't have us killed. If you can get me real evidence I'll pay big - $10,000 at least. Do we have a deal? Get back to me. I can be trusted.

Yours, Ned Burner

I'm writing to you relating to your news story "Breakfast Cereal Turns Politician's Daughter Into Whore" - quite honestly, I am ashamed to call myself an American if this is the state of American journalism!

The piece was riddled with factual inaccuracies, outright lies and mis-reporting.

I expected a lot more from the Liberty Tree, especially after we took you on that press junket to Thailand and introduced you to those attractive mid-op youths, who knew how to suck the shell off an egg, if you remember.

Anyway, we at Colombian Breakfast Inc. want to make clear that we believe wholeheartedly in the freedom of the press, but sometimes, freedom goes too far. Like when it interferes with our bottom line and the bottom line is this: stop reporting these lies. Or there are going to be some interesting pictures of your reporters doing some investigative reporting.

The facts are these: "Rails" has been F.D.A. approved, and why don't we all leave it that way? It's sped up breakfast across the country and what could be better than that? Not much.

Of course, weak minded people are going to succumb to addictions. These days people can get addicted to anything. In fact, I'm addicted to sadism. In particular, torture. But less about me. It's like Darwinism, but over breakfast. The strong go out, confident for a hard day's work, the weak succumb to a tragic life of selling themselves for breakfast treats. In a generation, the nation is a better place.

That being said, in the case of the Congressman's daughter, we at "Rails" categorically deny any responsibility. The fact is, having seen photographs of her since this sad tale broke, she is FAR too ugly to be a prostitute. No sane man would sleep with her for money, breakfast cereal, or anything other than a bet.

So, please call off the attack dogs and let's all be friends, again.

MIKE "TOP HOLE" HUNT BACK WITH A VENGEANCE!

That's right, Liberty City, I'm back and I'm on line and on air and on heat! Michael "Love Silo" Hunt!

The break down was NOT serious. NOT serious at all, and as of last night I'm back on Head Radio FOR GOOD!

Listen, anyone living the fast, rock and roll lifestyle I lead is going to have to take a rest. We all know what "exhaustion" means in this business. It means someone just blew the septum out on blow. Well, I didn't do that. I wasn't exhausted. I had a nervous breakdown. They aren't the same thing. I was locked up for a while, but if you're burning the candle at both ends AND in the middle, you're going to get covered in wax! And I was.

But I'm back now, and Head Radio is taking it to the top - from the bottom - That's a Michael "Coal Mine" Hunt promise!

Dear Liberty Tree,

I hope you'll join me in condemning the sick veneration of death that has polluted our society for too long now. Nowhere is this foul depravity more openly in display than at our fine city's Cathedral.

It is revolting. People wonder why people do sick things all the time like kill each other or vote Democrat? Because society teaches them to worship death!! With graveyards! How disgusting is that?

If a normal person was caught worshiping a dead body, we'd lock them up AND throw away the key, before turning them into the shower bitch of a psychotic child killer and getting them addicted to hard drugs while on the inside. And that's what's beautiful about the criminal justice system.

But I digress.

People shouldn't worship dead people. I think we can all agree on that. So, that being said, why the hell does our very own city's Cathedral, on Staunton Island, have a graveyard and a memorial garden?

It's revolting. This land should be sold off and put to a better, more healthy use. The devil wants us dead. And the quickest way to die is to look up to death.

So, for the health of everyone, this land must be sold to me RIGHT now for development into some high quality commercial or expensively over budgeted civic purpose.

Thank you for your time.

Dear Personal Advice

My name's Steve. I like masturbating and computers. I have a problem. Not with masturbating or computers, but with my friend Bill. He's not as cool as me, he's not as good looking as me and we do the same job, but he gets paid a lot more money.

How's that fair? It's not. But the problem is I'm too scared to say anything.

So, I just sit there and fume and plot and think about how I'm going to run him over in a car or murder his dog or put viruses on his PC, so he'll never be able to steal my avatar again.

Please help me. I want to be a nice guy. Computers are positive. They help strange people meet each other, and facilitate large scale frauds. For example, I pretended I was an astronaut to meet girls and it worked.

Listen, I'm on the radio. I should get laid every day. But things haven't worked out quite as I expected. I'm consumed by jealousy.

Help! Please!

Steve

7h3 313c7r0n z0n3

Our data base shows you like to party! Party at the Pilgrim's Pantry after hours with your man, Andre the Accelerator (Club Death, Rise FM) and a guest slot from the reclusive Boy Sanchez (Rise FM resident).

We have got a lot of drugs. We'll be going all night long. Repetitive beats and an androgynous crowd. Party Like a Pilgrim, after hours at The Pilgrim's Pantry!

Leon, listen, firstly, I am really sorry you're unhappy, because above all, I consider you a friend, and to think we have fallen out really breaks my heart. Honestly, it does. But, you really shouldn't threaten me like that. I am a nice guy and not a liar.

We agreed twenty, yes, but in exchange for four stories. And you've given me one story. That's five grand. A quarter. You'll get the rest with the three missing stories. This is meant to be business. Not you robbing me.

If you want to rob me, then rob me, but if you want to be in business with me, then stick to a deal and stop threatening me. While you might get some thrill out of watching a dog eat my balls, I never took you for being inclined that way. You're short of money with the bookies. It's no big deal and it's not my fault.

Yours, Burner.

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Don't be left out. Order today. While stocks last.

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Burner - Do I look like a bank? Do I look like a check cashing? You're pathetic. I gave you the cash, and still no favorable stories. Cash, you little no dick rat.

Jeez, I've got strap ons with more balls than you. A lot of them. Get me the money. Things ain't free in this town, especially not me and my union. So stop humiliating yourself. You get me? I held up my side of the bargain.

My boys are out on strike, but we'll come back to work, then go out on strike again. Like I said. Trust me. I rig the vote. Most guys didn't want to go on strike. Chicken shits were scared of losing their pensions or people making the city non-union.

But I ain't most guys. I'm not a guy at all. Despite what some people claim. Now I know one or more of the crime families are gonna try to flex on me. Leone for sure, possibly the Forellis as well. Well I ain't bending, unless the price is right. Nothing will get through the docks. Not medical supplies for sick kids. Not heroin. Nothing. Not while my boys are getting treated like worthless scum by the city authorities, who will insist on planning to build these bridges. Not while I remain unpaid.

So come on, Burner, start running some more positive pieces, and we can get back to business.

Ned, thanks for the money. No hard feelings. This is business. What I like about you is the fact that you understand this. That's what makes you such a pleasure to work with.

So, I got something interesting, and as an act of good faith, Ned, because I am real believer in humanity, I'm gonna give you this one on credit. Credit. It's not a gift - don't get confused.

I know you're into all that Mob crap - makes for a good read - everybody's scared of monsters. So, I heard from my man in Italy, there's some real problems going down within the Three Families. I mean, since SL came back from Venturas he's been a pain in everyone's backside, but now he's getting out of control.

Anyway, this serious old school guy from Siciliy is threatening to come over and adjudicate - Massimo Torini - look him up - owns a hotel outside Palermo. He used to like to kill people with his bare hands. Anyway, he's an old guy now - but if he comes over, it means it's on for our crime syndicates. Shit must be about to boil over.

I know that Paulie Sindacco has been saying he won't take any more of his bullshit. So one of them ain't going to be seeing next year. While the Leone's have no control over the mayor's office, expect them to come in for a lot of shit. That's it.

As I said, no hard feelings. But my retirement fund is going to need a little bump.

- Leon.

Ned,

I'll have you killed you little piece of shit. How dare you? We had a deal. I gave you real information. What does unsubthing mean anyway? You think your smart? Well, I bet you don't get laid much.

Come on, Ned. I need that money. Please. I'll do anything. I'm really experienced. I'll make you feel great. Please!

-----Original Message-----

From: BURNER@LIBERTYTREENEWSPAPER.COM

To: mad__maria@hotmail.com

Subject: RE: VALUABLE INFORMATION

Thats all very interesting, but I don't think I can run unsubstantiated stories about impotent mob bosses or their capos. The Liberty Tree is a family newspaper and I don't want to get castrated over a story.

I can't pay you for this kind of thing, I'm afraid. Sorry about the speed dealer, try rehab.

Ned.

I never knew commercial scientific research on animals could be fun as well as informative. Now thanks to this great new game, I've been proven very wrong.

Vivisection! has made my job as a parent much easier. For hours each day, my kids are happily operating on rats right in their play room. Only yesterday, little Frank Junior was blinded by his brother. They learnt about life that day.

Both of them now want to be research scientists, although Jeremy sometimes thinks he might like to be a serial killer instead. It's great having kids with ambitions.

Parents: buy Vivisection today!

Hey Ned, it's Carey, remember me? I'm the Director of Communications for the Mayor's office. We met at that fundraiser last year, when you tried to touch my breasts and got sick all over yourself.

Despite this, I thought you were great and a true friend of Mayor Hole. As you know, R.C. has been one of the best Mayors this town has ever had. A true leader in these difficult times.

He's successfully raised taxation, overseen a hugely innovative reduction in public expenditure while simultaneously increasing bureaucratic overhead costs, and ensured Liberty City is never out of the national news. History will smile down benignly on Hole, but will it on you, Ned?

Honestly, I only agreed not to press charges after the fondling incident after you assured you personally, and all of the editorial staff at the Liberty Tree were staunch Hole allies.

Now, I see you wavering. That article on Donald Love was a disgrace. Everyone in the know knows the man is a sicko, unfit to live outside of an institution, let alone run the city. And yet you guys seem to support him.

Meanwhile it seems that creep O'Donovan will be running again. This is a guy we would all be better off were he dealt with properly by someone writing a piece from a 'well placed source' examining in minute detail his history of substance abuse, prostitution, and corruption.

He makes R.C. look like a saint - after all, as was agreed in court, R.C. never knew they were underage and had no reason to suspect the drivers licenses were fake. Come on, Ned. Please.

The city needs a real Mayor, like it has now - a rich man, with no integrity and no understanding of social problems, yes, but OUR rich man with no integrity and no understanding of social problems.

Yours,

Carey.

So I read your interview with Crow. What's your problem? Crow has more talent in his rectum than you'll ever have in your whole body. I bet you're just jealous because he's real and you're a fake. All you journalists are just the same! Fake, bitter people, jealous of people who are real successes.

The fact is Crow did not break up The Toilet. The Toilet broke up when Jimmy Fence wanted royalties for the songs he claimed he wrote. He may have written the notes, but Crow was the star of the Toilet and is now the premier solo artist of our time.

I've seen Crow live 178 times. And I've got photographs of him asleep. Any journalist worthy of the name would know Crow went to Chertsey Grammar School, not the Royal Grammar School, Chertsey.

As for Crowfest 98, Crow has done more to help poor people in the world than anyone, including the Pope or Ghandi. Because of his work in spreading world music, and tribal things, and wearing that penis gourd, the poor people of the world have a new voice - a rich aging rocker with hair plugs and a messiah complex. Which is exactly what the poor people wanted.

So what if Crow makes most of the money? Why should Crow not get rewarded for his efforts with charity? Even the Pope gets paid. When Crow says it's all for the fans, he really means it. Unlike you.

I won't be buying your paper again.

I told you so - see what my 'husband' writes.

-----Original Message-----

From: KAZUKIK

To: KenjiK

Subject:

Brother,

For many moons now, I have toiled under the enormous burden of my guilt. Life is full of suprises, and perhaps the biggest surprise is realizing you are not who you thought you were.

I have struggled with these feelings for so long. I feel Toshiko knows, deep inside, that all is not sun, moon and stars, but there is also sleet and rain and too much fog in our home.

These are difficult times. I have so much torment. I don't know what to do. Many times, I have killed a man, afterwards, just to keep him quiet.

And now there is someone special. But I am a man of honor, not a rat, skulking in a sewer. What am I to do? I only wish you and Asuka were here for me now.

Your loving brother,

Kazuki.

Cilli is a real scumbag. That we know for sure. He's definitely involved in the drugs trade, but we don't know much more than that.

He's currently the blue eyed boy of Salvatore Leone, but we're not sure how long that's gonna last. We've heard whisperings that he's not entirely loyal, but we've got nothing concrete on this.

Watch out for some guy called Toni Cipriani. Really heavy. Highly strung. On his way back into town, we hear. Used to be tight with Salvatore... we'll be keeping tabs on him.

BTW - thanks for the ladies. Really cheered the boys up.

From Kingston to Babylon. The home of reggae in Liberty City.

Hear me now!

Music isn't just rap and teen pop. In foreign countries they have different instruments. Including spiritual ones.

That's really important, when you think about it.

Dear Liberty Tree,

They say it's all fun and games, but history has turned really ugly, thanks to the awful new 'edutainment' game, Pastmaster. It's not an exaggeration to say

Pastmaster ruined my marriage. It has to be stopped.

After role playing for literally days at a time, my husband has gone over the edge. He actually thinks he is Ghandi, and keeps trying to help people.

Quite honestly, it is revolting. He is a fat, white guy with a hairy chest. The loin cloth is far from becoming, but that is the least of it.

The real problem is he's no longer the rather sweaty, meat eating investment banker who specializes in hostile takeovers and obsesses over pornographic literature that I once married. Now he is a mild mannered vegan with a belief in the innate goodness of humanity and a desire to help people.

This is not the man I married.

History has ruined my marriage. Stop this disgusting lesson before it happens to you. Please help me.

Yours,

Dorothy Bigbottom

My boy's coming back from a long, err, vacation, soon, and to be honest, I'm nervous.

As a concerned parent, the boy worries me to death. I mean what is a mother supposed to do? You want a real man for a son, don't you? Not a girl in trousers. Loving but strong. He never writes to me, he never calls and he won't marry a nice girl and give me grandchildren. I'm at my wits end.

I beat him regularly as a child and even as an adult. Even now, given the chance. I'll smack him around the head with a frying pan or hold his hand on the grill, but he's just still so girly. His father would turn in his grave, if he hadn't been exhumed to get DNA evidence for an unsolved murder and then cremated, but that's not the point.

The point is the boy is a wimp and I'm not sure I can control myself from doing something terrible. What do I do?

A concerned parent.