Letters & Pee Wee
Yesterday I took the bedsheets off the office furniture and plugged in the ASS42000 Verityper
Pee Wee and I had to work out how we were going to keep him here. For those of you who don’t know, Pee Wee is my flunky. He’s 86 years-old, rail thin, and wears a baseball cap backwards on his head.
He’s been my flunky for a long time, but last year he didn’t show up for the season and was replaced by Fat Joe. This year he showed up on cue by riding his motorcycle up from Portland. He had everything he needed for the summer in a milk crate strapped to the back of his bike.
We had the following conversation when he arrived:
Gutbloom: What a pleasant surprise. I wasn’t sure we would ever see you again. How did you get back into the country?
Pee Wee: I’m here on a HB1 visa.
Gutbloom: Really? Who is sponsoring you?
Pee Wee: You are.
Gutbloom: I am?
Pee Wee: Yea, I filled out the paper work. We got approved.
Gutbloom: I thought HB1 visas were for specialty occupations that can’t be filled by citizens. I think there are a couple thousand men in New York City who could sit on a milk crate and read Korean newspapers all day.
Pee Wee: Most of them would drink beer. One of the items I put on the list of duties was “not drinking beer.”
Gutbloom: That’s it?
Pee Wee: I put some other things… being able to solve differential equations with a slide rule, celestial navigation, hybridizing day lilies, artificially inseminating sows, civil engineering, and fixing the cod head-splitter.
Gutbloom: You didn’t mention being able to make poppy tea?
Pee Wee: That would have been a bad idea.
Gutbloom: You came back even with Trump?
Pee Wee: Things in Korea are almost as insane.
Gutbloom: Did you miss us?
Pee Wee: I missed Chipotle.
Gutbloom: Really? I didn’t know you liked Chipotle that much.
Pee Wee: Neither did I.
At this point Pee Wee opened up his Sudoko book, which is my cue to shut up. I figured I would read some letters.
This is what came in.
Dear Athenaeum Editors,
I don’t understand why you insist on having a letters section. First, nobody writes letters anymore, so it’s like writing a listicle entitled “Ten Ways to Ride in a Carriage Properly.”
Second, McSweeney’s has taken the funny letter genre to the moon and back, so your efforts… which are roughly akin to the crappy letters in National Lampoon AFTER it jumped the shark… are an embarrassment.
Weren’t you humiliated by Matt Pfeffer the last time you tried? I’m not sure why you even bother.
Sincerely,
David Eggers
Dear Suburbanites (Please Print in “Cat Obsession”),
I don’t know that I am black.
You see, in the world of squirrels, the color of our fur isn’t something we worry about unless we are frozen in fear at the sight of a barred owl.
My time is taken up with thoughts of the following: nuts, birdseed, nests, other squirrels, dog, bird feeders, and getting into your house.
The other squirrels don’t understand me as “black” either, so calling me “Obama” isn’t funny… it’s fucking racist, and I don’t even know what racism is.
Sincerely,
The Black Squirrel in Your Yard
Hey Cuck,
Hope you and your libtard friends are having fun drinking milk and watching god-Emperor Trump Make America Great Again. I don’t get it? Why don’t you just join us centipedes?
You could grab women by the pussy, tell welfare and foodstamp feelsmen to get a job, and shitpost all over the uncritical-crap that these Hillary-loving racist snowflakes burp up on Medium. Take the red pill, (((Gutbloom))).
Hail Kek,
The Third Guy in the Comments Section
Dear Mr. Gutbloom,
I have a guest coming for a visit. I very much don’t want him in my house, but I’m afraid I have no say in the matter. What I am most afraid of is him winning the 2020 election and coming back again. What should I do?
Yours in Fritos,
Her Majesty, The Queen
The Editor Responds:
Dear Elizabeth,
I have a couple of suggestions. The first is quite simple: bed bugs. You just give POTUS a room full of bedbugs and he will carry them back to Mar-a-lago. I already know that he is going to give Buckingham Palace one star on Trip Advisor, so turnabout is fair play.
My second suggestion is that you have a subject, I think his name is Tom Mitchell, that you should give a job in the home office. If you give Tom a job in the home office he might bring his son to work, and almost anything his son says goes viral and gets tons of recommends. If you could get his son to say something about Trump never coming back to England, I think it would solve the problem.
Sincerely,
Gutbloom
Your biggest Fan
Dear Gutbloom,
We know you didn’t “pitch” us, but NO, you can’t write for us.
Sincerely,
Your Friends at Medium
Hey Gutbloom,
How come there is no nudity on Medium? I thought this was a community devoted to “art”. We give your entire platform -1 boner.
Yours,
The Ghosts of Al Goldstein and Larry Flynt
Dear Sirs,
We noticed that your company, Mr. Mildew Omnimedia, recently ran an “article” in a publication called The Athenaeum entitled The State of Medium Address. That work borrowed heavily from the Book of Ecclesiastes. As the legal team behind the Book of Ecclesiastes, we demand that you either take down your article, or give us 70% of the revenue generated by it.
Signed,
The Rabbis of 4116 A.M. Judea
Dear Gutbloom,
Do you see why we stopped letting you greenlight things on Slackjaw? Also, Amanda Rosenberg wants to remind you that you are supposed to end with a strong item. If not, the whole thing is a failure. Good luck with that. LOL!
Sincerely,
The Editorial Team at Slackjaw, minus you.