Tuesday, March 31, 2009

A Letter to the City of Bellefontaine

The job search continues.

Mayor Adam Brannon
City of Bellefontaine
Municipal Building, Floor 2
135 N Detroit Street
Bellefontaine, OH 43311

Dear Mr. Mayor,

I'd like to officially throw my name in the hat for the city of Bellefontaine's official whatever-you're-hiring for-right-now. Do I need to know what exactly it is your city needs? No, I do not, because I see the answer to that question every time I brush my teeth in the morning. Every time I check my rear view mirror. Whenever I cross my eyes or look down really fast, I sort of see the nose of the answer to that question. Because the answer to Bellefontaine's great question is me, sir!

Let me tell you a little bit about myself. I'm available. I have no phsyical hindrances, and it wouldn't matter even if I did because I take glucosamine daily. I am smart - I graduated from nearby Wittenberg University with a degree in Everything (liberal arts). I'm attractive and charming and can easily converse with any crowd. The elderly trust me and frequently project their own idyllic images of the American family onto my shrouded childhood.

Why I am interested in Bellefontaine? You know as well as I do, you can't beat the Chiefs! The way I see it, Bellefontaine is at a crossroads. You can either get busy job-creating or get busy dying a slow economic death. I can put Bellefontaine on the map by harnessing the powers of state money, federal money, Web 2.0, revenue-sharing, strategic partnerships, the global economy, Google AdSense and racketeering. Do you want to be downstream to the city of Lima's poop chute your whole life, or do you want to look up at those sons of bitches with the tall finger salute and say, "Hey, Beantown! Cut the malarkey and get in the right lane!"

Now let's talk shop. I'll relocate immediately - that's not a problem. I want an office in the courthouse with a cot, because that's where I'll be sleeping. I don't need a salary, just put it all in my budget. I'll need a stipend for food and clothing of $6,000 a year, or you can give me a signed pass that allows me to eat and shop for free at any Bellefontaine merchant. Obviously, I will not take advantage of you, I'm here to work. Instead of a car I'd like a neon green bicycle with "City of Bellefontaine" painted on the frame and the phrase "Never quit!" on the seat. I will ride this bicycle everywhere.

Together, we can bring Bellefontaine to the forefront of Ohio. While the rest of the state sinks into a quagmire of rising taxes and uneployment, you and I will be building an economic Helm's Deep, an American Alamo. Please send me any requisite paperwork and my proposed start date, preferably by the ides of April. God bless, Mayor.

Be Safe,

The Correspondent

Monday, March 23, 2009

A Letter to Fred's Transmission

I was just a skinny lad, never knew no good from bad.

Fred's Transmission and Clutch
4410 Lincolnway East
Mishawaka, IN 46544

Dear Fred,

I have a bit of a quandary I was hoping you could help me out with. You see, my brother suffers from a rare disease called porphyric dyslexia syndrome, or PDS. His brain will sometimes pull up a memory or image and switch it with whatever he's supposed to be focusing on at that time. A few years ago he was finishing up a federal grant application for work, and as he got ready to mail it out he heard "Take Me Out Tonight" by Eddie Money on the radio. Well, his head just inserts Eddie Money into the task and he mailes the application to him instead. The next thing you know his boss wants to know the status of the grant and all he has is a letter from Eddie saying he can't give $165k to the State of Indiana for watershed research. Guess who got passed over for promotion?

Fast forward to a few weeks ago, when he was supposed to mail me a box set DVD of the greatest concert moments of Freddie Mercury. I need that box set, Fred. Of course it never got here, and the best my idiot brother can say is he remembers singing the Fred's Transmission jingle in his head that week. You know the one - "If your tranny's dead, just call Fred!" We grew up in South Bend. I figure he saw the Freddie Mercury box set, starting thinking of Fred's Transmission, got that stupid slogan in his brain and mailed it to you.

Let's be clear, I'm not accusing you of anything malicious. Hell, if Freddie Mercury showed up in my mailbox one day I wouldn't be asking questions, either. That's called good karma. But I really want those DVDs; there's a rare duet of "Under Pressure" with David Bowie in Shea Stadium, where they kiss at the end. Don't ask me why I need to see it! It's a watershed moment in American Rock 'n Roll!

Listen, I don't care if you took those DVDs for a spin already. Me casa is Sue's casa. Just please return them to the address above so I can finally immerse my living room in the legendary performances of one of rock's greatest voices. Hell, I'll even burn you a copy. I know it's piracy, but you've been put out enough. Consider this my thanks to you.


The Correspondent

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

A Letter to the Mexican Restaurant

If that Pioneer Woman blog can be nominated for an award, so can I.

General Manager
El Vaquero Mexican Restaurant
3230 Olentangy River Road
Columbus, OH 43202

Hola Sir or Madam,

Gracias for reading my letter, I'm sure you are a very busy muchacho. I love American Mexican food, it's the best comfort meal you can find. I've been to a lot of places in my day, too, but none of them as near to my house as you are come even close to nailing the traditional Mexican dishes I've fallen in love with. Hoorah for you!

Still, nobody is perfect. I thought I could relay a few tips onto you that might help you keep your craft razor sharp. First, your tacos are delicious. I always order three chicken tacos. Sometimes, though, the taco shell becomes soggy by the time I get to the third taco. The "au jus" of the chicken must be eaten quickly, lest it turn that crisp shell into a flaccid corn wrapper. May I suggest always draining the chicken completely before building your taco? As my father used to tell me while teaching me to use a urinal, "an extra shake is all it takes."

Second, I think it's great that you always card everyone before the train takes off to Margaritaville. But you know, nothing cherries the cheek of a lady more than a little flattery. Maybe your wait staff could follow each carding request with a sly quip, such as "But Senorita, your eyes have the fire of a woman no older than twenty." Also, I wouldn't be above your waitresses perking up my peacock tail every now and again. Tell me how you feel the first time you find a gray hair in your happy trail!

Well, I think that's it. Again, you do a terrific job. Just one last question. What kind of cheese do you use? I have searched high and low for it but failed at every turn. You know what I'm talking about, that soft, white, almost sweet cheese. Are you making that stuff in the back or something? Who's giving you all that milk?

Adios la Vista,

The Correspondent

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

A Letter to Parks and Recreation

Hope schmope, you can't change Washington.

Jerry Saunders - President
Columbus Parks and Recreation
1111 E. Broad Street
Columbus, OH 43205

Dear Mr. Saunders,

Are you fat? I'm sorry to pry, but if you are fat it well help my proceeding argument. Plus, it's a real eye-catching way to open a letter. In our fast-paced world of today, it's so important to be able to grab attention. Sex! Wild asps! Stratego! See, now I've got you right where I want you.

To get to the crux of the matter, I have witnessed a growing trend in this country's park systems that I cannot let continue with impunity. Of course, I'm talking about plastic-seated swing sets. It seems that every park I go in, including most recently the Park of Roses in Columbus, the swing sets in each playground have bendy, plastic seats on them. Have you ever tried to swing in one of these things, Jerry? It's like getting a "B" seat on a plane full of Buckeyes coming back from another Fiesta Bowl loss. You try to move, even breathe, but you're being scrunched up by this incredible pressure on both sides, like a Red Sea of fat ready to crash down upon you at any moment. And that's what it's like in a bendy plastic swing seat.

Think about this: I only weigh 130 lbs, and the plastic still bends in the middle until my hips have chain-patterned bruises on them. Now, what if I was fat? The pressure would kill me! Whatever happened to using wooden planks for swing seats? Then you can sit comfortably without bowing the swing in, and it's much easier to twist the chains into a thrilling tailspin. Times are tough, Mr. Saunders, we don't all have the money to go to Cedar Point every weekend. With a wooden plank and a little imagination, I could make my own Corkscrew ride (no lines, too!). Well, right now I'm 50% short of that dream.

Oh, and I know what you're going to say. We don't have money for wooden swing seats! Our budget is being slashed to ribbons! To which I say, what's your salary looking like? Because I'd be willing to fire you to supply each city park with wooden-seated swings. I'm sorry, but the taxpayers have spoken. You've drenched this town in rampant corruption and blatant nepotism long enough.

Ok, look. If I can't beat you, I guess I could join you. Just outfit the Park of Roses with wooden swing seats and I won't blow the whistle on the aforementioned corruption and nepotism. I'm ashamed to play dirty politics with you, but the system is already broken. I didn't start this fire. Let me know your decision, and perhaps this can be the beginning of a profitable friendship.

Honorably Yours,

The Correspondent

Friday, March 6, 2009

A Letter to the Guy With the Astro-Turf Lawn

Just driving around the neighborhood, la-la-la, that grass sure looks green for March, la-la-la, wait a minute, does that guy have an Astro Turf yard, la-la-la, looks like I have a letter idea for Monday, la-la-la.

Current Resident
349 Oakland Park
Columbus Ohio, 43214

Dear Mr. Current Resident,

As the weather warms in central Ohio, myself and other outdoor sports enthusiasts will be dusting off our athletic shoes and our acrylic socks and heading outside to get our hands dirty in the arena of athletics. To wit, I have decided to establish a new neighborhood tradition by founding the first annual Central Ohio Yard Putting Tournament.

It's simple, really. We take a pool of 50 local athletes and pair them together for four days of various putting challenges. The aggregate winner will be invited to the Midwestern Euchre Challenge to be held this April in Xenia, a 3-year subscription to my newsletter and $150 . Second place will receive a three-week supply of my allergy stopper, the Hepa Nose Filter, and $25. Third place will receive my World's Best Potato Soup recipe and a dog, donated by the central Ohio Humane Society (donation not yet final).

Of course, this is all predicated on being able to use your facilities at 349 Oakland Park. With all the uncertainties of Ohio spring weather, we must have dependable facilities, and your Astro-Turf front yard is the perfect place to design our putting challenges. These will include, but are not limited to, a 10-foot challenge, a 15-foot challenge and even a 20-foot challenge. We will have to move the holes around over the course of the tournament, but I promise you your fake yard will be returned to its dyed plastic glory at the end of competition. For your graciousness in hosting our event, I want to offer you the "Opening Putt," as well as a size XXL t-shirt from the Pepsi Company. I will even throw in a free coupon for Welch's Grape Juice and a brochure explaining the origins of the Pillsbury Doughboy. This eclectic gift package can be found nowhere else, and certainly not at CVS.

Please let me know your what your reservation calendar looks like for the next 6-8 weeks so I may begin my other preparations (mostly just buying an auger hole digger and a little tin bucket).

Fighting the Good Fight,

The Correspondent

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

A Letter to the Man Who Took My Dog

This isn't really a funny letter. Sorry.

Gregory Bognar
56779 Joseph Lane
South Bend, IN 46619

Dear Mr. Bognar,

This is going to sound a little strange. Well, it will think a little strange, unless you're reading it out loud. You see, I'm not sure if you are who I think you are. We may have met once, and if so that means I was only at your house one time about 5-6 years ago. I just guessed on the house and address based on my memory, which is usually perfect. One time I had to explain the Kreb's Cycle to my girlfriend for her biology class in college, based only on a lecture I heard freshmen year of high school. But I digress, Greg. My question is, do you have my dog, Katie?

5-6 years ago my mother gave my dog away to some guy because my siblings and I had gone to college and she didn't want to walk her anymore. She was a chow/German Shephard mix named Katie. She had rusty brown hair, a long bushy tail and a light underside. She loved to dance and could shake hands and if you left the butter on the kitchen table she would climb on the chair to eat it when you went to school in the morning.

It occurred to me recently that my dog has probably died already, but I still thought that if I tracked you down you might be able to tell me how she is or was. She was a real dog. First of all, the long hair. All real dogs have long hair. She also had jaws that could strip metal off a Buick. One time we were rough-housing out back and she found a rabbit. Tore through it like it was crepe paper. She weighed over 30 lbs - a prerequisite for any real dog. If it's under 30 lbs you're just feeding a large rat. Of course, I'm sure after a year with you she probably weighed 100 lbs. I saw you giving your other animals hot dogs for treats! I didn't say anything at the time, but pethood obesity is no laughing matter, Greg. It destroys hundreds of families a year.

I'm just yanking your chain, mostly. I wouldn't have let you take her if I didn't think you loved animals. Even if your pool did take up 80% of the backyard. Listen, if Katie had a good life, please just write me a quick note and let me know she did OK. I hope she didn't miss me very much. God, I miss that dog. I'd probably kill upwards of 200 people to get that dog back. That's not a threat, I'm just thinking wistfully.

Take Care,

The Correspondent