Dear Editor: To reply to Brian Silvani’s Open Letter to me: Silvani complains that my epistles to the Hobokenites don’t “make sense.” “What are you talking about when you write?” he wonders. Now, from any other reader this criticism would hurt, since I do take a modest (if undeserved) pride in my choice of words. But several times in the past, Silvani has grumbled about the impenetrability of my missives, so his ox-browed bafflement is of long standing. And I don’t know what to do about it except maybe get on the phone and tell him what the letter he just read means, but I’m not sure even that would do the trick. He also chastises me for writing “a bad letter about the Jews,” but doesn’t specify; and tells me my words should be Abanned,” while his own compositionally-challenged pigeon diatribes should be published. Finally, after trying (unsuccessfully, I hope) to take some heat off himself by siccing his epistolary critics on me, he wants to know if I am “on pot” while composing my opaque utterances. Sure am, pardner, and may I recommend a little such self-medication to sweeten your sour puss. T. Weed