Sunday, June 26, 2011

Letters to the reader

Dear guard dog,

You’ve got to pull yourself together around the vacuum cleaner, boy. That’s all there is to it. Please understand, this is coming from a place of constructive criticism. But, I chose your particular breed in the hopes that I’d have a wingman in the event of a bear attack or Armageddon situation. Like Mad Max and Dog. Hell, to scare away panhandlers at the very least! “Just don’t,” I’d said to myself, “invest in a breed that’s ever been dyed pink or dressed up in a little tuxedo.” But, frankly, if you’re going to panic every time I flip on the Dust Buster, I might be better off with a poodle! Do we understand each other? Pull yourself together, man!

Columbia City Paper

Dear Columbia drivers,

This is a friendly public service announcement reminding you not to sext and drive. Take it from me. The deliciously lewd FOX News coverage of the Anthony Weiner scandal got me in a lather on my way to a liberal discussion group one afternoon. Speeding down Gervais, I decided to send a quick sext to an old flame I’d been stalking. To properly set up the shot, I displayed myself on the lower rung of the steering wheel, arching my hips up to get everything in the sunlight for a clearer photo. Using one hand to set up the angle on my iPad and the other to apply glitter (all while steering with one knee), I lost control of the car, careened toward the State House, and, in a moment of tragic irony, nearly plowed into a group of MADD protesters on the sidewalk.

Don’t risk it, Columbia. “Fly closed, eyes open.”

Columbia City Paper

Dear fellow dudes,

We should revisit the official dude rule against carrying umbrellas. Generally, the choice between getting wet and looking like a 65-year-old woman has been easy. But, shouldn’t logic, gentlemen, eventually prevail? Most farm animals come in from the rain. Or, will it be too difficult to warm up to umbrellas considering most of us don’t even own raincoats? Hell, some of us can’t even get past the dude rule against putting up the hood on raincoats. (Honestly, though, what kind of sissy would actually do that? Where are your pink galoshes, pal? Man, you couldn’t pay me!)

Know what? Forget it. For now let’s just stick to jogging, macho-like, through the rain and forget about the umbrellas. Let our kids’ generation deal with it.

Columbia City Paper

Dear area hippies,

Your Quaker-like frigidity, asexuality, and self-righteousness had always rubbed me the wrong way until I got a whiff of an Asheville cafe. Thank Dass you have at least rejected the notion that reeking like a Russian bum’s ass is somehow making a sociopolitical statement. You guys smell like roses in comparison to your mountain brethren and I applaud you for that. Considering the oppressive heat around here, life in local coffee shops and open mic nights could be so much worse. Thank you, area hippies.

Columbia City Paper

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