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L E T T E R S .
[Please send printable correspondence to mcsweeneysmail@yahoo.com. Thank you.] - - - - Date: Mon, Aug 28 2000From: Steven Tomsik Subject: i just can't stop Dear McSweeney's, I am a fiend, damn you, but I know I can kick. This is the last time. No more orange and pink letters, no more wax paper squares, no more chocolate icing under the fingernails. 42nd Street-and-Madison Dunkin' Donuts: I'm through! Just one more, though. Help me. Steve. - - - - Date: Mon, 28 Aug 2000From: Christopher Sebela Subject: I want in on this noise... Dear McSweeney's, I was content to just read your letters page and laugh. This I have been doing for many a month, holding back on sitting down and attempting to amuse or at least interest those who read the letters. I was happy to be a passive observer, filled with want, tight-lipped with my jokes about blenders and birds of spring. But I have now seen 4 letters from people I know, or at least have heard of in casual conversation, and can no longer sit idly by. Thank you for your time, Christopher Sebela - - - - Date: Mon, 28 Aug 2000Subject: promotion to an adjective Dear McSweeney's: I thought you should know that you have now become an adjective. Today, Ted Rall shifted you from a noun to a descriptor by writing "hopeless, McSweeneysesque-Arthur Miller-inspired characters..." about Ben Katchor's comics. Congratulations on your new part of speech. Kate - - - - Date: Mon, 28 Aug 2000From: Newhart, Bryson Subject: The subject is not happy but trying Dear McSweeney's, Last night I saw a roach crawling across the top of my alarm clock. He paused to check the time and looked right at me. I quickly shut my eyes and pretended I was asleep. It didn't work. I was up all night. So this morning on the elevator I put my head on a man's shoulder and asked if I could take a nap there. I've been very depressed you see. My boss claims to be cultivating the world's largest gallstone, but that's because he cares. For me it's just the opposite: everything seems futile. For example, there is a girl who works here who has the same job as me but is six years younger and a high school dropout. She chats all day on the phone, astonished at her words, laughing and laughing. Her boyfriend and their friends are cops. A few weeks ago they came into the office to make photocopies of their guns. As I tried to sneak by them they pretended to shoot me. "You got me," I said, grabbing my chest, too sad to actually laugh. For the rest of the day I pretended I was dying. A small comfort. Sometimes I imagine running to the bathroom and sticking my head in the toilet. I dry off with toilet paper, then I pay a visit to the other office floors. I stumble around, look frantic, and flash my ID at people. "Don't worry," I say. "I work here." If I had a self-destruct button, honestly, my finger might slip. Yours, Bryce Newhart - - - - Date: Tue, 29 Aug 2000From: Dan Kennedy Subject: AN EMBARRASSING CUP OF COFFEE IS NOT MY CUP OF TEA Dear McSweeney's- Today I sat having my coffee at the neighborhood cafe thinking about how it may not be so good, you know, a grown man having a steady relationship with an obscure literary journal's website. I started thinking I would take some time away from you. Some time to myself. I asked myself if you and I weren't just sort of metaphorically falling into the proverbial bed together because I am a character too afraid to be alone. Then I got off my high horse and considered the fact that maybe the only reason I see interesting things to tell you about is because of you being there to write to. In other words, maybe things like the obese insane man on the subway wearing the tee shirt that says, "Grandma Spoils Me!" would have never got on the downtown 6 train that I was on if it weren't for you and the people who show up at the site to read letters and whatnot. Just as I was thinking that, this very attractive young woman that I recognize as my neighbor on the fourth floor walks in and says, "Hi. Dan, right? What are you up to?" I have no idea why I said, "Oh, you know how sometimes when everything in a relationship is going great you have to sit there and wonder if there really isn't something wrong with it?" "Yeah, I know exactly what you mean." I think it' going to end there. You know, a little nervous small talk and now we go our separate ways. But no. She keeps talking to me while she stands in line waiting. "Oh, the blonde girl. You guys are always laughing. You seem so happy." "Oh. No. Not...her, really." Then I thought, Oh, great now it looks like I'm cheating on my girlfriend. So I tried to make it seem like a work related thing. "Something in my work. I mean, AT my work. Where I work, at... work," Realizing it must be obvious I work at home since it's 11:00AM and I'm in a cafe drinking coffee. "Your boss?" "Yeah, this, uh, McSweeney. My supervisor. Mr. McSweeney," I have no idea why I'm kind of trying to tell the truth and kind of trying to keep the lie going. I'm just lost and caught and more nervous with every word I say trying to end the conversation. I should've said "Nothing" when she asked what I was up to. I'm thinking this tension has to give and this conversation has to end, when all of a sudden this look crosses her face and she says "Oh my God. Is your last name Kennedy? This is the neighborhood cafe! You write about it in the letters page on the McSweeney's thing!" I'm so full of panic and have no explanation to offer her as to why I was thinking about my "relationship" with you. In a sudden hurry, I act like I see somebody I was supposed to meet and walk out. What's a clever way of saying I'm so embarrassed- Dan Kennedy New York, New York. - - - - Date: Tue, 29 Aug 2000From: Post, Jamie Subject:Hang Brain Dear McSweeney's, I have a friend who thinks the word orgy is pronounced orangy. He will repeat it over and over with increasing speed and intensity. He will go on and on. My compatriots and I laugh at his expense. His mother doesn't think it's very funny. - - - - Date: Tue, 29 Aug 2000From:Whitney Pastorek Subject: Bob Sassone Dear McSweeney's, [In response to Bob's suggestion that he and I team up to fight giant bugs] Bob, a few questions: 1. Would I get to wear a miniskirt? 2. Would I be able to run remarkably well in heels? 3. Are you "hot"? If the answer to 2 out of the 3 above is, "Yes!" then you've got yourself a partner, unless the answer to #1 is, "Yes!" but without any provision for making my calves more shapely, in which case I, out of deep respect for the sighted citizens of the world, must respectfully decline. thanks so much whitney pastorek - - - - Date: Tue, 29 Aug 2000From: "Ken Alper" Subject: Just wondering... Dear McSweeney's, Are you still carefully editing the letters section like you were a while ago, or do letters like this get published? Oh, can you do that thing where my name appears in quotes? --Ken Alper - - - - Date: Wed, 30 Aug 2000From: luke o'neil Subject: the old, you know, hair is going Dear McSweeney's, I am sort of losing my hair. I am a biggish, hairy type of guy who is afraid of looking like a big galoot. If I am forced to go bald, and give up my funny looking hair (anyone with sideburns gets compared to Elvis, my friend) I will surely be ruined. The point is this -- will there be haircuts at the Boston event? If so, is there anyone capable of styling my thinning, yet sort of long hair, in such and such a way as to render me beautiful once again? Yours in anticipation Luke O'Neil - - - - Date: Wed, 30 Aug 2000From: Sarah M. Balcomb Subject: Three items Dear McSweeney's: While paying a visit to amazon.com today, listed among my "personalized" recommendations was a novel by a Mr. J. Robert Lennon. "Hum," I said to myself, thinking this must be the same J. Robert Lennon who recently related a musing on suicide in Ithaca, NY. So now I have added J. Robert Lennon's book to my "wish list" on amazon, in case anyone is hard up for birthday ideas. Sweetly, Sarah M. Balcomb - - - - Date: Wed, 30 Aug 2000From: George Long Subject: More Bob Seger Dear McSweeney's, I was heartened to see my letter dated 27 August 2000 displayed in your fine publication. However, I would be remiss if I didn't take issue with one of your editorial elisions, to wit, removing any mention of my personal fave Bob Seger tune. While my friend Colleen selected the trite, AOR dinosaur, "Turn the Page", I had clearly expressed a preference for that lissome paean to individuality, "Feel Like a Number." I suspect Colleen put you up to this. George Long - - - - Date: Wed, 30 Aug 2000From: Mark Walters Subject:Four Square Tournament Dear Mr. McSweeney's: I work for a large bookstore. We're going to be closing our doors in early December and we're gonna move out to Short Pump. Don't get me started on Short Pump. Jesus, Short Pump? I used to make fun of Short Pump in high school. Short Pump is west of the city. They're getting a Lord & Taylor's in November. Whoop-de-freakin' do! Yours, Mark Walters - - - - Date: Thu, 31 Aug 2000From: Chris Cotner Subject: Another week in Oklahoma Dear McSweeney's, I changed the subject heading to better reflect the intent of the email. It would be annoying to others and time consuming on my part to actually write an email every day concerning "Another Day in Oklahoma." 1) It is still HOT here. The guys (including most high school science teachers) who wear short sleeve dress shirts with a tie don't look quite as goofy when it is over 100 degrees. 2) In class the other day a girl raised her hand and prefaced her comments with, "As you all know, I participated in something like this during undergrad..." No, nobody knew that. We don't even really know her name. Why would she think we would know what she did during her undergrad days? Was her comment calculated to get someone else to ask about her undergrad days? Does she need the attention? Her comment baffled me then and still does. 3) I attended a meeting of 4th grade parents. It was held in the library of the school where my soon to be son attends. I noticed during the meeting that there were no erasers on any of the pencils in the basket by the card catalogue. It occurred to me that I have never seen an eraser on a pencil in a library. Conclusion reached: Librians hate people who make mistakes Until next week... - - - - Date: Thu, 31 Aug 2000From: MS. ROSAURA Subject: YOU make me sad. I make me triumphant Dear McSweeney's, I am Rosaura. I come to you plainly now. There is no time for weeping. I am here to tell you that I am the sun. The world is at my command. I swim in the ocean and while I am swimming a family of dolphins swims by... The forces are telling me to celebrate, to no longer weep. I am awake with joy, you horrid creature! - - - - Date: Fri, 1 Sep 2000From: Kurhajetz, Michael Subject: the wee ones Dear McSweeney's, What is the fascination with the dimensions of newborn babies? Why is it that the first thing we are told about children is their height and weight? Should we be on the lookout for them? And why are they 21" 'LONG' rather than 1' 9" 'TALL'? I am unable to sleep . . . . but still the dreams come. Michael Kurhajetz - - - - Date: Fri, 1 Sep 2000From: Derik Subject: S.F. walking Dear McSweeney's, I started reading the McSweeney's website after a recommendation from readerville.com, and decided to track down a print copy. As I happened to be vacationing in San Francisco, I wrote down the names of the bookstores listed on the website as carrying McSweeney's. I ended up spending most of my vacationing walking around the city in search of bookstores and issue #4. I found a copy. It is eminently readable and a pleasure to look at. I don't have a crazy story, just a letter of appreciation. Thanks. derik. - - - - Date: Fri, 1 Sep 2000From: Jim P. Walsh Subject: Whitney Pastorek's Bugs Dear McSweeney's, I recently moved into a new apartment and have occasionally found large , many-legged wormlike monstrosities on the floor. For no good reason other than it sounded sinister, I assumed they were silverfish. Once I found one in my sink, behind a coffee mug. I could only see its antennae waving behind the rim of the cup. It was hiding. It is unsettling to think a many-legged invertebrate has the mental capacity to lie cunningly in wait. Orkin has a fascinating guide to household vermin, complete with pictures, fun facts, and Latin names. They have a virtual insect zoo and a frightening graphic of a man with an outrageously pronounced chin threatening an ominous spider, in a jar. There is also a suggestion that you eat termites, because "they do in central Africa." I asked my sole Nigerian friend about this. She told me Nigeria is in West Africa. Her treatment of me seems to have cooled since I asked that unfortunate question. I digress. Their website did identify my unwanted neighbors. They are centipedes. They can live for five to six years and their "large jaws can inject a poison [which] is not life-threatening." Jim Walsh Chicago, Illinois - - - - Date: Fri, 1 Sep 2000From: learn lesson Subject: I'll stop now Dear McSweeney's, Hey, that's a really funny part in Ghostbusters when Bill Murray makes fun of is it Annie Potts? And he walks back into his office and then he comes back out and says, "Sorry about the whole bug-eyes thing". Sincerely, Winston Zedmore - - - - Date: Sat, Sep 2 2000From: Blair Pritchard Subject: Excuse Me Dear McSweeney's, Someone had better explain to PAUL MALISZEWSKI that Chinese gooseberries, or "kiwi" fruit, are not tropical at all, and thrive only at 37.5 degrees latitude or thereabouts, approximately the distance from the equator of Richmond, VA. The only really decent place in the world to grow this fruit is in Te Puke, Bay of Plenty, New Zealand. (Although "Te" is a Maori word meaning "the", "Puke" is a Maori word not meaning puke, and is in fact pronounced "pookie"). Any Third World agriculturist readers of this organ, perhaps seeing Mr. MALISZEWSKI as somewhat of an ally after his trenchant expose of dodgy business journalism in The Baffler, who rush out to blow the last of their IMF-sanctioned credit on expensive trellising equipment for the purpose of growing Chinese gooseberries, will surely be disappointed. Blair Pritchard - - - - Date: Sun, 3 Sep 2000From: Karl Tobias Steel Subject: Suicide, Special Bundy Request Dear McSweeney's: J. Robert Lennon's [would you rather be John or Vladimir Ilyich?] piece on suicide reminds me: high school was a good time for that. One incident involved my friend, an ex, standing on the railing of a bridge, waiting in the empty air while paramedics stomped and scurried towards her, undoubtedly speaking a compressed, numerically-encoded English into whatever the mid-80's provided in the way of wireless communications. My friend didn't jump. She waited, and the paramedics took her from the railing. They asked her why didn't she jump. "It was an important decision. I didn't want to rush it." Also, this, an invitation for McSweeney's readers to share their Ted Bundy stories. Here is mine. In 1991, I worked at the Washington State Emergency Management Division, and Ted Bundy, too, worked there, albeit 20 years before me. Once the radio described a Volkswagen Beetle suspected in connection with a few seemingly random murders. His co-workers, in the manner of bored State Workers, needled poor Ted. They suggested the suspected Beetle might be his. It was, of course, his, but I imagine Ted just shrugged and smiled and continued writing Evacuation Procedure manuals, smiling and saying, "Oh, you guys. Geez." In all sincerity, thank you, Karl Steel New York City - - - - Read Previous Letters:
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