Dear Rudy Reyes

When I first read Generation Kill, your character made me laugh. "Fruity Rudy," I thought to myself. "That's funny." Not only could I appreciate the fact that you were a total metrosexual stuck in the harshest and dirtiest terrain, but you were also a completely b.a. Marine. (Get some.)

Annnnywho. This summer, as my father and I drove through Eastern Washington and Northern Idaho, we stopped the radio scanner upon NPR for a hot second. We heard all about how they were making Evan Wright's book into a HBO miniseries. I remember little from the interview except that one of the people was going to be playing himself in the cable dramatization.

As I watched the first episode last night (thanks, Farg), I spied one character who looked similar to the pictures in the book.

"Reyes. Reyes must be the person who is playing himself," I guessed. And then I checked on IMDB (aka, my source for all knowledge). Turns out I was right.

Mr. Reyes, I would just like to take this time to thank you for playing yourself. You're a freaking stud, dude. I mean yeah, I've never been attracted to the big muscly type, but who cares? You're kind of beautiful.

Keep up the good work, Reyes. I mean that.

Love,
MTP