Dear Uninflated RC Blimp:
I bought you during a grand fit of whimsy. You arrived to great fanfare and excitement. Even my friend in Wisconsin couldn't wait to get pictures of you puttering about the offices, enraging the partnership and amusing my assistants. So why is it I am so ashamed to ask my local florist to fill you up to your inflated, silvery, four-full-feet of glory? Am I less of a man because I can't ask a woman to de-flaccidize my blimp?
So here you sit, three months later, limp and uninflated. You have now found a new use: a symbol for my deflated hopes for you. Every time I see a real blimp, I die a little inside.
"How could you falter / when you're the Rock of Gibralter? / I had to get off the boat so I could walk on water. / This ain't no tall order. / This is nothing to me. / Difficult takes a day. / Impossible takes a week."