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Now available for preorder:
The San Francisco Panorama.
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L E T T E R S .
[Please send printable correspondence to mcsweeneysmail@yahoo.com. Thank you.] - - - - Date: Mon, 24 Jul 2000From: Thomas Gibbon Subject: Duty, Ovid, Christ. Dear McSweeney's 2000, I am writing to you from a time when the internet is like vellum; expensive, obsolete, and theoretically edible. It has been aeons since we last wrote. I blame no one but They-Who-Prefer-Not-To-Be-Mentioned-Publicly, that awful race of discreet aliens who sacked our puny (in the sense that a Faberge egg is puny) world back in September. I hope you fared well under their ruthless domination, what with the beatings and all. As for me I was sent to the Shame Mines of Sixth Grade where I toiled for months before falling face down in the mud in front of everybody. With this I met my quota. While being transferred to Late Adolescence I escaped and stole the ring of Sexual Potency from Unnamed Coed. This I used to leverage Self-Worth from the Angel-like creatures of Basay Bazhay. Unfortunately I was soon captured and banished to the Attic for non-payment of space dues. Later I was employed as Mild Stimulant Transponder acting as a human faucet to the greed and lusts of the Puritans of planet Lucre. I saved enough to book passage on a Tweedliner to Volvo once there I indulged in Doctor Sigma's mind eraser, my transponder days to forget. Also there I completed my apprenticeship in Boxed Wines. Various princesses of Outer Realms danced before me, but love, even in the clean, crisp purity of space, is complicated, ugly, and doomed. Now I am on Cybertron, where the electrics flow like a running toilet, and life, it seems, is a dream, as ill-remembered as it is ill-conceived, as heartless as it is compelling, as diaphanous as it is cutting. All my Best to Lindy and the Kids, Mick Spaceman, P.I. - - - - Date: Mon, 24 Jul 2000From: Dan Kennedy Subject: THE SONG REMAINS SOMEWHAT GIRLISH Dear McSweeney's, For the life of me I can NOT believe that there wasn't at least ONE Led Zeppelin rehearsal in which any member of the band stopped playing mid-song and told singer Robert Plant to quit using a silly voice. A fan- Dan Kennedy New York, New York. - - - - Date: Mon, 24 Jul 2000From: Gillian Beebe Subject: The other thing that happened Friday, July 21, 2000 Dear McSweeney's, Is it funny that you bumped those two letters up against one another? You know, the one about the bumper boats. Well, I need a new bumper, now, yes I do. I had quite a day Friday. I'll elaborate below, if I ever get there. (I don't believe Randal Cory Walker's last name is really walker. It's just a little too much.) I just sort of wonder how the stars aligned themselves Friday to make it such a memorable day. Overwhelmingly memorable. Did I mention that I got a mysterious letter in the mail that day, too? No one wants to hear the rest of the details. But I 'm pretty sure I forgot to describe the envelope marked Gillian that arrived, yes, in Friday's mail. The letter inside the envelope saluted me as Jillian. I should have stopped reading right there, but it had been written in scrawly large script in guess what? Green ink! So I made it past the mangling of my name-- isn't it strange that he spelled it correctly on the envelope? Do you think he just wasn't sure and decided to try both ways, satisfied that he would likely be right once? It would drive me insane to do such a thing. I'm sure I would dwell on having been wrong once, even if only 50% wrong. OK, so you don't really want to know what the green-ink words amounted to, do you? Well, when I arrived home Sunday evening, made it up that cursed hill without inflicting terrible suffering on any living creatures save a few mosquitoes (you don't have to thank me for saving you from West Nile or Eastern Equine Encephalitis, really--anytime), or humiliation on any local police officers who can't kill a deer with a broken leg, flopping around in pain and terror right in front of them, with their stupid gun in less than five shots, I found the letter where I had left it, among the ferns in the front yard under the pear tree. The strange thing is, the ink hadn't run in all that dew. Fondly (and unemployed and a perpetrator of cervidicide), Gillian Beebe - - - - Date: Mon, 24 Jul 2000From: Scott Matthew Korb Subject: I confess, Jack's a dull boy Dear McSweeney's, I've been busy. Just busy. That's all. Sorry, but I had to work late. What smell? O, you can smell her on me? Is that it now? Are you crazy? Look at me. I'm a balding, slightly rotund patent lawyer with mossy teeth. Plus I have these braces. Who besides you would EVER?! ...I fell asleep on the train. Went all the way to Queens. What a bother. Signed, Scott M. Korb - - - - Date: Tue, 25 Jul 2000Dear McSweeney's, My dog's new nickname is Little Lord Washington. Yours, KP - - - - Date: Tue, 25 Jul 2000From: Paul Saulnier Subject: Bonding with Television Dear Mcsweeney's, So one day I'm watching the television like everyone else... I'm eating potato chips and drinking some sort of popular cola and as you can see, it was a pretty boring and otherwise useless day. I'm flipping through the channels slowly, with integrity, trying to find something good. I stop when I see some fast cars racing each other. "Hey. That's a station- wagon." I say to myself. I know it's actually in the race because it's covered in racing-car stickers. When it turns the corner, I see that it is a Volvo. "A Volvo station-wagon?" I say to myself. Then the TV answers back in a competent and sophisticated narrator-type voice: "Yes. It's a Volvo." Paul Saulnier - - - - Date: Wed, 26 Jul 2000From: Sarah M. Balcomb Subject: Angled towards the condensation and robbing you all icy Dear McSweeney's: The glass onion: something you can't see, but it makes you cry. I think the new doorman at my office is becoming a problem. He keeps inviting me to "get open" with him. Now I'm not sure exactly what this street expression means, but I hope it's simply a drug reference. I'm not up for a bout of Play Station. Did you know that he was arrested once for peddling crack? The only time he ever did dope was during that stint in prison. Today as I waved goodbye, hurrying out of the office before he could pass off another invitation, he blew me a kiss. Parody is fair use, but satire is an infringement of intellectual property rights. Reeling, Sarah M. Balcomb - - - - Date: Thu, 27 Jul 2000From: Pete Latshaw Subject: Hello? Dear McSweeney's, What do you do all day? And don't say updating your website. Late last February, I sent you two different submissions for your "Lists" section. Not only have you not used my submissions, you haven't used ANYONE'S submissions. There's not a single new list up there since early March. Here's a list of what the staff at McSweeney's does: 1. Nothing. Respectfully, Pete Latshaw - - - - Date: Thu, 27 Jul 2000From: Jim Crocamo Dear McSweeney's, I am reading your letters section and enjoying it quite a bit. I am finding it almost as humorous as Mad Magazine's "Letters and Tomatoes" section, although they have you beat, since they feature responses from a hilarious person. Take Care, Jim Crocamo - - - - Date: Thu, 27 Jul 2000From: Sarah M. Balcomb Subject: Standard deviation dominates dishwasher Dear McSweeney's: Yesterday on the subway, I ran into the new doorman at my office. He was wearing a short-sleeved chambray shirt unbuttoned to reveal his freshly shaven chest and a three-inch long silver seahorse. The hoop he normally wears in his ear had been replaced by a diamond. He kissed me on the cheek as he took the available seat next to mine. (Note to self: always choose subway seats which are sandwiched between two other passengers who are large enough to block me from view of anyone entering the train.) "Where you going?" he demanded to know. "Home," I replied, looking down regretfully at the book I would be unable to continue reading. "Where you been at since gettin' off work?" "Hanging out." "Yeah, I see, I see, hangin' out with other people, but too good to hang out and get open with me." "Well, you know." Then he started rambling on in his usual way, reiterating what a pivotal time this was in his career and providing me with the latest developments in his deal with the Wu-Tang people, as well as several book covers he's been commissioned to do. "You could design the cover of my book," I said, thinking this was the perfect opportunity to scare him away with my bathroom manifesto canard. "You wrote a book?" he said distractedly, staring at two busty young Latino women in spandex who were now leaning against a poll in front of us. I started rambling on in my usual vague way about the revolutionary nature of my work, throwing in references to man-eating cockatoos and alien women with three sets of breasts, just to see if he was listening. He wasn't. When the two bosomy sex-pots got off the train, the new doorman turned to me and said, "Sorry, but I was trying to hear what they were saying." "Hum," I said. "They were talking about you. Said you looked just like a friend of theirs who's also a cute white girl." "That's funny. Wish I could speak Spanish. Well, here's my stop," I stood up, got off the train two stops before my stop and walked twenty blocks home. Sandwiched, Sarah M. Balcomb - - - - Date: Fri, 28 Jul 2000From: Steve Tomsik Subject: print my letter Dear McSweeney's, Hi. Print my letter. Why won't you print my letter? Here is a letter. For printing? Yes. It's a good letter, isn't it? Not too fancy, quaint in its simplicity, alluring words with a bit of spice in the way of: I have been making a lot of love lately, with my girlfriend. So see, nothing smutty. Just a little something to heighten the reading experience. Some printing, it would be nice. I ain't missing you at all. Steve. - - - - Date: Fri, 28 Jul 2000From: Mike Topp Subject: The Mahatma Gandhi Dear McSweeney's: In a robe and sandals, mix 8 ox. Pimm's with 6 oz. urine and valerian root tea. Pour over crushed ice--"Not now, honey, I'm being disobedient." Throw away your possessions. Serves millions. Best, Mike Topp - - - - Date: Fri, 28 Jul 2000From: Newhart, Bryson Subject: Big things in Canada Dear McSweeney's, In terms of "world's largest," Canada is light years ahead. Notable are Bunnock: a giant buttocks shaped bone. Each year the town that harbors the bone has the World Bunnock Championships. This is an old Russian game played with horse ankles. In Manitoba there is Happy Rock: a slab of rock with a happy face on it. Manitoba also boasts the four dens at Narcisse, one of the largest snake pits in the world. In springtime, children flock to see the "mating ball" when hundreds of males try to mate with a single female by wiggling and rubbing their chins on her back until they become a frenzied mass not unlike a writhing ball of yarn. Sound familiar? Also there is Golf Ball: he holds a hockey stick and wears plaid pants. Other giant Canadian attractions include 12 Foot Davis, Ukrainian Girl, Glooscap, Head, Tire Man, Native American Girl, Mallard Duck, Puffin, and Skookumchuck. Look up "David Yanciw" to find the website. Best, Bryce - - - - Date: Fri, 28 Jul 2000From:Bob Sassone Subject: Dream Dear McSweeney's, I had that dream again last night. The one where I'm running around the city, trying to find my family, and I'm being followed by The Joker. The Joker is always tormenting me. He knows that I have this deep fear of him. In my dream, he is walking towards me, and I stop, paralyzed. I remember thinking that it's really weird that I can sense myself stopping in the dream, though not really "physically," if that makes any sense. And I am always amazed that I am aware that I am aware that I realize that I am stopping. Then it hits me. For some reason I seem to forget this every single time he approaches, but then I remember: I have to stick my tongue out at him! That makes HIM stop in his tracks! And he gets that "oh my goodness, puckered lip" expression that Rosie O'Donnell uses in photo shoots when she's trying to make her face look thinner. But his is a look of terror! Imagine! I can defeat the infamous Joker just by sticking my tongue out at him! Why does this work? My God, what secret trauma did HE go through in his childhood to be afraid of someone sticking his tongue out? And from someone who is ASLEEP no less? I am triumphant. I have won. But instantly realize that, in a few months, I will have the dream again. The next time, will I remember how to defeat him? Sincerely, Bob Sassone Gloucester, MA - - - - Read Previous Letters:
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