There has been much talk of late about the ills of inflammatory rhetoric, so my next sentence gives me some pause.

But, there is really no other way to express my sentiments. In the words of the immortal Jay Z, John Davis’ treatment of my recent letter to the editor in his column is “like bringin a knife to a gunfight, pen to a test.”

If I could refer back to HOVA once again, “Yeah I sampled your voice, you was using it wrong,” when I say that Davis said that I said I thought the University needed an identity.

I said no such thing. I said the very opposite. If anything, I think this university needs less of a Stepford Wife in tempo shorts identity. What I did say is that Vaughn should stop pussyfooting around and just say what he was trying to say.

Which brings me to the point of this letter. As The Crimson White’s number one fan, and most prolific writer of letters, I was saddened to see that my name was spelled wrong in the headline of Davis’ piece.

Crestfallen does little to express the sadness that hugged me like a red panda, if red pandas were human sized. When I clip these letters and send them off to my mother and Grandpappy Houser, or when I read them to my cats, I take great pride in seeing my name spelled correctly. I can’t even send this, my largest font appearance to date, to my Grandpappy Houser. For I have no Grandpappy Hauser. Please, do print a correction forthwith.

Greg Houser is a graduate student in creative writing.