Dear Sir or Madman

I love handwritten notes- I smile when people tell me my habit is so rare. But, I don't know if I'll ever give up pen and ink.
That said, I've had to write- and type the occasional business letter.
Dear Sir or Madam
Dear Ms. Karbunkle-Buster
Dear Mr. Hornswaggler
and so on and so forth. There have even been, due to necessity : "Dear Honorable Sirs". (It took me a week to quit addressing every letter to Dear Honorable So-And-So. )
I have an unfortunate habit, every so often, Dear Sir or Madam, becomes "Dear Sir or Madman". I've come to realize, none of this is an accident. It's my beleaguered brain saying "Hey! I've had enough!" There are no accidents, I'm told, things happen because they're meant to be. I also think we can make choices for right or wrong, so yeah--- I consider it just a blip.
But it amuses me, and I am so glad I have a happy proofreader, for those times my poetic side decided to get creative "Can you describe this person and their conduct?" -this was a bad task for me. I might as well have written a movie about this person. It amused everyone. I still can't figure out why "Has no sense of honor or integrity, particularly in an occupation where an oath to have these is essential" was so funny.
Well, I found my original, scathing review, with names changed to protect the innocent, and leaving the guilty to feel ashamed of themselves:

In my opinion, The "Honorable" M., has treated S., with contempt. Contempt that in some situations, exceeds the boundaries society sets aside for "polite contempt"...that is, while never giving any other impression other that dislike, and disregard for ones' person, while still maintaining a facade of gentility and politeness. The honorable M. seems not to understand that the art of diplomacy, which people of this profession oft find to be a necessary tool, is the ability to say "Go to hell" in such a manner that the other party is more than happy to comply.
M. is incapable of acting fairly, as evidenced by a total lack of knowledge of the politics of the venues she is presiding in, the fawning (like that of a high school girl who wishes to be liked by the cheerleaders) on those who behave, themselves, in fawning, polished ways, that barely cover illegal and shady acts. S. seems to be treated like we would treat an old dog that has a tendency to pee on the rug, always at inopportune times, such as when one has company.  

Well, Dear Ladies, Sirs and Madmen, I do believe this is the end, there isn't any more.
Be it ever so bumbled, there's no place like Dome.
Love, Bethy