Hey peeps, it's your old pal Art "I Don't Play For LA" Dodger here, keeping it real, gutter, gully, and all those other slang terms that rappers like to use. I don't know what any of them mean but I once heard an MC Hammer song and I feel that makes me qualified for massive amounts of "street cred." I'm fresh off parole and that means it's time for me to get down and dirty and represent with a new mailbag update in this piece. If you don't understand a word of anything I just wrote, that's ok, neither do I. I just pulled random words off urbandictionary.com and made a go of it. Kind of like playing Scrabble with a bunch of criminals. Still, it's a new month, which means a batch of new letters pulled out of the same old mailbag for your reading enjoyment.
This time around, we've got hate mail, fan mail, air mail, and hotmail. We've got so many letters, Vanna White and Ann Landers combined couldn't stem this tide. Also, I've been working hard on my very first non-mail update. I've also been saving my lunch money up too since it'll probably take a sizeable bribe in order for Randy to let me post it. See, it was going to be this fantastic story set in a post-apocalyptic future where horses can talk and everyone uses candy as currency but then I thought about my target audience and changed it to a bunch of midgets who sit around and tell jokes about gays and retards. But enough of this shuckin' and jivin' -- we got mail to answer!
Dear Schmucks,
You know, I used to be a pretty loyal reader. I enjoyed the varied updates because they were fresh and new. Well, I don't know what the hell you boys have been smoking up there, but the last handful of updates have really sucked. Even Skip couldn't come through and save your sorry excuses for humor. Hell, I bet my grandmother could come up with better jokes than you guys have been these past few weeks. Shape up or you're bound to lose more than just one reader.
- L.J.
Hello L.J.,
First off, we feel the need to apologize. Things just haven't been quite the same around the P.Net Offices ever since they officially called off the search for the poor, lost white girl in Aruba. She's presumed dead and our theory that she turned into a mermaid and is living out her days under the sea didn't pan out. This has, of course, had an adverse effect on the output that we normally generate around here, which has left both the email and website updates a little lacking. Frankly, we blame the economy and the fact that butter prices are down in Germany. It has always been a rather unstable commodity.
Second, we passed your letter along to your grandmother and after reading it, she told us that your words "make her moist down there." We presume that she is not talking about Australia, either. She followed up that statement by saying that if you weren't her grandson, she would love nothing more than to have a three-way relationship with you and a orangutang. Her reasoning was that she's always had a life long dream of having sex with a big, stupid monkey and an orangutang at the same time. Hey, don't shoot us -- we're just passing along the message.
Third and finally, if you really want to leave, go. We won't try to stop you. However, those large burly men by the door dressed in nothing but speedos and armed with taser guns will try to stop you. They will try very hard to stop you and resistance only gets them more excited. It's best just to take the beating and apologize, rather than to put up a fight. Seriously, they would force themselves upon you quicker than the entire lacrosse team at Duke University. Plus we invented crop circles, so we're still patting ourselves on the back for that one.
Dear PNC,
My dad, whom I love dearly, has been diagnosed with terminal cancer and is not expected to live out the rest of the year. I want to do something nice for him but I'm at a loss for ideas. I saw your website address scribbled on the toilet seat at a subway station and figured that I would give you guys a try. Can you help?
- Rebecca
Dearest Rebecca,
I am so sorry for your soon-to-be loss. We here at the P.Net Offices had no idea that you could catch cancer from being inside an airport terminal. I mean, I once knew this guy who caught the bird flu from eating a rabid coyote but I thought that that was just a fluke. I guess diseases can really be weird like that. Still, since we don't really know your father -- and if you're not married and pretty good looking, we'd really like to get to know you -- we can't rightly suggest the ultimate gift to make his passing easier. However, knowing his condition, we can suggest some things NOT to get him.
For example, since he contracted cancer from the airport, buying him anything with planes on it is not a good idea. Even showing him pictures of Kansas might send him into shock. There are a lot of plains there, even if they are spelled differently. We definitely don't recommend playing any of the Jefferson Airplane songs that you know and love. That probably won't do his morale any good. Lastly, don't try giving him any high-fives. It'll remind him of altitude and the small fact that giving someone a high-five has never in the history of life made anyone feel any better. It's just one of those unwritten rules of life. Oh, and one last thing. When you're around him in those final days, try not to talk about all the great things that are going on next month. He won't be around to see them. Hope this little bit of advice helped!
Dear P.Net,
I'm a novice hobbiest who has recently come into some money. It has been a life-long passion of mine to get into art collecting. However, due to financial constraints, I could never really afford it. Now that I have the money, I realize that I also have no knowledge of anything art-related. Sure, I've been through a few galleries and coffee houses, but it doesn't really mean squat to me. Can you know-it-alls provide me with some tips on where to begin? Much appreciated.
- Des
Des,
They always say that life imitates art. Well, maybe it does for some but not for me, not for the art I look at. If it did, my life would be filled with three Japanese midgets simultaneously beating down a unicorn while wearing nothing but roller skates. I don't know whether this kind of thing appeals to you or not. If it does, I got a boatload of bootleg anime episodes at my house. Maybe you want to come over and watch it some time?
Ok, ok, maybe that was a little too forward. Perhaps we can start off with something a bit more mundane? Maybe you can just come over and shave my toes? Or what about tattooing the inside of my thigh with a picture of Rick Moranis in that classic scene from "Honey, I Shrunk The Kids?" Sure, fine, ok, I get it. No touching. Well, I do impressions! Maybe you could just sit around the fire drinking cherry Kool-ade while I do my stand-up routine? Hell, I just realized that I don't know whether you're a guy or a girl. Well, does it matter? True love, like art, knows no limits. Funny, I know nothing about either. Sorry, maybe try Barnes & Noble?
Anyhoo, that makes three letters and, oddly enough, three letters is just about all that we have room for. Better luck next time, future letter writers! If you want our free guide on how to write better letters, please write a letter to the address below and be sure to include a self-addressed stamped envelope so that we can return the finger of your sister whom we just kidnapped. We're only asking for a few grand in ransom. Come on! Have a heart. I'm out!
This time around, we've got hate mail, fan mail, air mail, and hotmail. We've got so many letters, Vanna White and Ann Landers combined couldn't stem this tide. Also, I've been working hard on my very first non-mail update. I've also been saving my lunch money up too since it'll probably take a sizeable bribe in order for Randy to let me post it. See, it was going to be this fantastic story set in a post-apocalyptic future where horses can talk and everyone uses candy as currency but then I thought about my target audience and changed it to a bunch of midgets who sit around and tell jokes about gays and retards. But enough of this shuckin' and jivin' -- we got mail to answer!
Dear Schmucks,
You know, I used to be a pretty loyal reader. I enjoyed the varied updates because they were fresh and new. Well, I don't know what the hell you boys have been smoking up there, but the last handful of updates have really sucked. Even Skip couldn't come through and save your sorry excuses for humor. Hell, I bet my grandmother could come up with better jokes than you guys have been these past few weeks. Shape up or you're bound to lose more than just one reader.
- L.J.
Hello L.J.,
First off, we feel the need to apologize. Things just haven't been quite the same around the P.Net Offices ever since they officially called off the search for the poor, lost white girl in Aruba. She's presumed dead and our theory that she turned into a mermaid and is living out her days under the sea didn't pan out. This has, of course, had an adverse effect on the output that we normally generate around here, which has left both the email and website updates a little lacking. Frankly, we blame the economy and the fact that butter prices are down in Germany. It has always been a rather unstable commodity.
Second, we passed your letter along to your grandmother and after reading it, she told us that your words "make her moist down there." We presume that she is not talking about Australia, either. She followed up that statement by saying that if you weren't her grandson, she would love nothing more than to have a three-way relationship with you and a orangutang. Her reasoning was that she's always had a life long dream of having sex with a big, stupid monkey and an orangutang at the same time. Hey, don't shoot us -- we're just passing along the message.
Third and finally, if you really want to leave, go. We won't try to stop you. However, those large burly men by the door dressed in nothing but speedos and armed with taser guns will try to stop you. They will try very hard to stop you and resistance only gets them more excited. It's best just to take the beating and apologize, rather than to put up a fight. Seriously, they would force themselves upon you quicker than the entire lacrosse team at Duke University. Plus we invented crop circles, so we're still patting ourselves on the back for that one.
Dear PNC,
My dad, whom I love dearly, has been diagnosed with terminal cancer and is not expected to live out the rest of the year. I want to do something nice for him but I'm at a loss for ideas. I saw your website address scribbled on the toilet seat at a subway station and figured that I would give you guys a try. Can you help?
- Rebecca
Dearest Rebecca,
I am so sorry for your soon-to-be loss. We here at the P.Net Offices had no idea that you could catch cancer from being inside an airport terminal. I mean, I once knew this guy who caught the bird flu from eating a rabid coyote but I thought that that was just a fluke. I guess diseases can really be weird like that. Still, since we don't really know your father -- and if you're not married and pretty good looking, we'd really like to get to know you -- we can't rightly suggest the ultimate gift to make his passing easier. However, knowing his condition, we can suggest some things NOT to get him.
For example, since he contracted cancer from the airport, buying him anything with planes on it is not a good idea. Even showing him pictures of Kansas might send him into shock. There are a lot of plains there, even if they are spelled differently. We definitely don't recommend playing any of the Jefferson Airplane songs that you know and love. That probably won't do his morale any good. Lastly, don't try giving him any high-fives. It'll remind him of altitude and the small fact that giving someone a high-five has never in the history of life made anyone feel any better. It's just one of those unwritten rules of life. Oh, and one last thing. When you're around him in those final days, try not to talk about all the great things that are going on next month. He won't be around to see them. Hope this little bit of advice helped!
Dear P.Net,
I'm a novice hobbiest who has recently come into some money. It has been a life-long passion of mine to get into art collecting. However, due to financial constraints, I could never really afford it. Now that I have the money, I realize that I also have no knowledge of anything art-related. Sure, I've been through a few galleries and coffee houses, but it doesn't really mean squat to me. Can you know-it-alls provide me with some tips on where to begin? Much appreciated.
- Des
Des,
They always say that life imitates art. Well, maybe it does for some but not for me, not for the art I look at. If it did, my life would be filled with three Japanese midgets simultaneously beating down a unicorn while wearing nothing but roller skates. I don't know whether this kind of thing appeals to you or not. If it does, I got a boatload of bootleg anime episodes at my house. Maybe you want to come over and watch it some time?
Ok, ok, maybe that was a little too forward. Perhaps we can start off with something a bit more mundane? Maybe you can just come over and shave my toes? Or what about tattooing the inside of my thigh with a picture of Rick Moranis in that classic scene from "Honey, I Shrunk The Kids?" Sure, fine, ok, I get it. No touching. Well, I do impressions! Maybe you could just sit around the fire drinking cherry Kool-ade while I do my stand-up routine? Hell, I just realized that I don't know whether you're a guy or a girl. Well, does it matter? True love, like art, knows no limits. Funny, I know nothing about either. Sorry, maybe try Barnes & Noble?
Anyhoo, that makes three letters and, oddly enough, three letters is just about all that we have room for. Better luck next time, future letter writers! If you want our free guide on how to write better letters, please write a letter to the address below and be sure to include a self-addressed stamped envelope so that we can return the finger of your sister whom we just kidnapped. We're only asking for a few grand in ransom. Come on! Have a heart. I'm out!