Dear Vincent Valvo, AKA The Guy Who Called 911 To Complain About His Mom,
Man, moms can be so annoying, can’t they? Mine used to try to get me to go to bed at 9:30 p.m. when I was a sophomore in high school! Ridiculous, right? And your mom sounds like a real ball-buster, or at least I’m assuming she is, because you called 911 not once, but twice in one night to complain that you “didn’t like the way she was talking to you.”
You were arrested after making the second call, but if you ever want someone to vent to in the future, you can give me a ring!
Dear Luo Dan,
I want to tell you that I’m feeling you wearing this deer head mask every day for the last four years. You started wearing it while you were making your art because it make you feel peaceful (no surprise that you’re a painter) and eventually, got used to wearing it and started to wear it all the time.
“The deer is a tame animal … Wearing its mask, I could find a long-missing inner peace. When I wear the mask, I feel I am a deer from within,” you said. Keep reading »
Der Eric Ducharme, Merman,
I believe that when you find the thing you love, you should hang on and never let go. In your case, the thing you love is being a Merman — that’s a male mermaid for non-merman enthusiasts — and bless you for it. Keep reading »
Dear Veniamin Balika,
Let me preface this love letter by saying that I understand that stealing is wrong and don’t condone it. But I can’t help but be impressed by a man who can pull off a cheese heist of unprecedented proportions. I find cheese thievery sexy for obvious reasons.
Veniamin — or should I call you Cheese King? — you have my respect for managing to make off with 42,000 pounds of Muenster cheese from a Wisconsin distribution plant. That’s enough cheese to fill an 18-wheel truck. That’s roughly $200,000 worth of cheese, which you planned to sell on the black market. I had no idea the black cheese market was so lucrative. I had no idea there was a black cheese market. I knew about the underground chicken wing market. But not cheese.This is all blowing my mind. So much fucking cheese! Enough cheese to fulfill all my dairy cravings for the rest of my life! Enough cheese to build a cheese house and live there together like two happy mice. I know, I’m getting ahead of myself. Keep reading »
Dear Jacek Korolko AKA The Guy Who Was Fined For Blasting Celine Dion Songs,
My love for Celine Dion is well documented, but it’s tough for me to find men who appreciate her majestic vocal stylings as much as I do. My current boyfriend, for example, could sum up his feelings about Celine Dion with a shrug and a “meh,” which upsets me to no end. You, on the other hand, obviously share my passion for Queen Celine, because you were recently fined £1,300 (nearly $2,000) for blasting her songs at high volume at your apartment complex in Bristol, England. Apparently your neighbors have been “very distressed at the unreasonable volume of music played often late at night,” but let me tell you something: your neighbors are idiots. Move in with me, and we’ll crank up the volume to “The Power Of Love” until all the windows shatter.
‘Cause I’m your lady,
I don’t know your name, but I commend you for your effort to be the best airplane seat mate ever. Sure, you took it a bit too far. But the intention was there and that’s what counts. As many of us have experienced, getting trapped on a long flight next to a person who is farting/snoring/talking non-stop is unbearable. More than unbearable, it’s a goddamn nightmare.
When you found yourself sitting next to a hot woman on a five-hour flight through China, you made it your mission to remain seated the entire time so as not to disturb her. And when I say disturb her, I mean that you didn’t want to offend her with your pot belly. In order to do this, you declined to drink any of the complimentary beverages so you wouldn’t have to get up to use the men’s room. You remained seated with your seatbelt securely fastening around your safely hidden paunch for the entire flight, barely moving at all. I’m sure the woman was thrilled to have you as a seat mate. Truly. Keep reading »
Dear Bernard Anderson Bey,
As a 32-year-old homeless man, I think you’ve sensed that it’s time to take stock of your life, take responsibility for your actions and get your shit together. That’s good! You took initiative. You came up with a plan — albeit a misguided one — to turn things around for yourself. In a lawsuit you filed from a laptop at the Brooklyn homeless shelter where you are currently staying, you sued your parents, demanding that they mortgage their share in the home part-owned by your father so your family can “break the bonds of poverty” by buying two Domino’s Pizza franchises. The $200,000 lawsuit blames your parents for leaving you homeless because they allegedly raised you and your siblings in poverty and didn’t love you enough. As a backup plan, you’ve enrolled in automotive trade school (which I think may be your best bet.) Keep reading »
I heard you’re a Beatles fan, which is great. I mean, I guess that takes care of that difficult “are you a Beatles or a Rolling Stones fan” discussion. In fact, you might be the biggest Beatles fan, owing to your obsessive collecting and cataloging of their records. Specifically The White Album. It seems you’ve got — how many now? — 693 copies of the iconic record, and plan to keep on collecting. Keep reading »
Dear Johnnie Blade,
First of all, your parents clearly knew you were destined for greatness, because they gave you a name that could only befit a future porn star or Klingon sword enthusiast. I have no idea about your adult film industry experience, but you were recently arrested for “wildly swinging” a four-foot long sword in a Fort Lauderdale intersection. In your defense, you were actually observed “proudly displaying” your crescent-shaped weapon — a bat’leth, technically — and who could blame you? Klingons are the most fiercely honorable alien species in the “Star Trek” cannon, and their weaponry is incredibly impressive. (Props, by the way, to the person who correctly identified your sword as being Klingon.) jIyajchu’. [That means "I understand fully" in Klingon.] If I were lucky enough to own such a fine blade, I would want to show it off to passing motorists as well. As soon as this misunderstanding is cleared up and the police let you go, we should meet up for a couple glasses of prune juice. Hoch DIl! [I'll pay.]
yIghoSDo’ — and qamuSHa’ [Good luck and I love you],