Mr. Therapist Is A Man Of LettersAlmost fifteen years ago, I submitted an incoherent piece of tripe to a local arts and entertainment magazine, called The Flying Penguin. For some sad reason, they thought I was funny, and I became sort of the lone, long-haired conservative on the staff.
About that time I had seen a book called The Lazlo Letters, in which letters were written to famous, infamous and notable people under the guise of "Ordinary Citizen." I knew instantaneously that a key element missing from my life was letter writing; the kind of letter writing that throws gentle-yet-confusing curveballs to personnel departments, and crack secretarial staffs, and either makes them laugh, or stick pins in my extrapolated effigy.
I now have two bloated binders of such letters; one full of the ones that were never answered. The other full of the ones that were. I know there’s a book waiting to be published, but right about the time I decided to run with it, I see Ted Nancy’s Letters From A Nut sitting on the shelves, with Jerry Seinfeld having written the foreward.
Again, too little too late. Kind of like satire blogging.
But, since Judge John Roberts is so comfortably handing Joe Biden his arrogant, grandstanding head without a flinch, I thought I’d go ahead and print a letter I mailed to Ruth Bader Ginsberg back in 1993. Yes, it's stupid. What do you want from me?
This one was unanswered. Maybe someday, I’ll print the answered ones from Charles Manson, Colin Powell’s office, Mother Teresa, and even the hand written letter from Bill Buckley. Not today, and maybe I will try to secure a book deal out of it--someday: