by My Good Friend from Canada, CB!

Dear I.P.,

-a toothpick’s relationship with a toothpick aficionado

-a reluctant canine passenger of a vehicle traveling through an automated car wash (like, the kind that would be scary to a dog with those big black hang-y things)

-a losing plaintiff after (but not immediately after) a The People’s Court case during the reign of Judge Marilyn Milian

-the feelings a cloud-seeding expert might have during the process of realizing he is less knowledgeable than his peers and the ungraciously crafted industry-based metaphors he comes up with to soothe himself

I look forward to your response & thank you for the ad! I know one will come through for me soon.

Thank you again,

I.R.

* I trust your judgement on this one, I.P.!

************************************************************

Dear Inept Wrangler,

You are most welcome!

As I have written your Soldier of Fortune ads for the past 4 years, your last letter was received with some surprise! I am not a well-seasoned poetess and the poetry I have composed has never been collaborative. I am not sure that I care for the idea of creating a work following your odd set of requisites, however, I am somewhat intrigued and curious about their origins. After reading your list, which I did with startlingly increasing voracity that as I previously hinted at, surprised me, and the surprise itself startled me even more, I had to ask myself, “Do these items relate? If so, how so? Why is a Soldier of Fortune ad-placer…” etc. I am willing to try to write this despite the unexpected challenge, but because of the less straightforward nature of the work, I fear it will be more of a time-consuming activity and therefore I must increase my fees for this work. If you’ll approve of 2.5 times my normal ad rate, I will take a stab at it. As usual, I have enclosed your next ad, please find it on the following page.

Regards,

I.P.

Riverheights USA: A Perfect Fit

By Susana Winthrop, age 37

Finesse. Strength. Charm. Great hair: coincidentally (?) everything that makes a stellar Charter Member of Riverheights, USA Country Club is everything that is Susana Winthrop. The experience, upbringing, knowledge and wherewithal of a true Nancy Drew maven is what you’ll get when you accept me, Susana Winthrop as a member. I first heard of Riverheights as a child. My mother, the late Mrs. Susan Bourbon-Winthrop, would often read to me from Nancy Drew Case Files between the time it took her to throw away the last bottle of cooking sherry and uncork the next. I was instantly captivated by the strong yet feminine strength of clever Nancy and her friends. From Nancy I learned ocelot stealth, leonine virility, and stone cold steve Austin sphinx cunning. Everything from Nancy’s oversized pink t-shirt, cinched coquettishly at the waist and tight black jeans have served as inspirations both in my professional and personal lives. As a tween, teen, and twenty-something of the eighties, I was shocked to learn that the Nancy Drew of my youth was merely a stunted scion: a perverse and retarded shadow, a parasitic boil horridly disrupting the face of the original Nancy Drew, a Nancy more at home ordering malts at the roller diner with Bess, scoping out the missing cashbox at the drug store over double-thick strawberry shakes with Bess by her side, or just her and Bess staying in on a Friday night, chewing gum and waiting for Mrs. Drew to finish frying the 3 lbs. of ground round in Bess’s favorite brand of shortening and for the pizza delivery boy, Tommy Finks, to arrive with two (2) medium meat-lover’s specials, the large pepperoni, sausage and x-tra cheese-oil-hamburg melt-tastrophe-cake, four (4) orders of cheezy bread (3 for Bess), and side of Dr. Hickum’s Rough Cut Mayonnaise Fried Dough Steak Fries with special sauce and two (2) orders fried steak dip with extra steak napkins than the Nancy who unravels the fringes of her rug just to unwind after a week of long and cokey nights chillin’ in Bent Fender’s NY penthouse with Bess jittering in the corner, arteries still pumping away triumphantly even after the dozenth 8-ball and halfway into Mrs. Drew’s third sausage meringue. But I got over it, because my passion for crime solving was too strong to let a little thing like historical precedence get in the way of my enjoyment of the Case Files.

As a consequence, I pledge to:

1)      Use the 4 issues of quarterly newsletter to light fires in the homes of Riverheights criminals.

2)      Employ the ID card in the rationing of my “fuel” supply.

3)      Brand non-believers tee-shirts with the Country Club’s iron on transfer mark.

4)      Strategically place the 25 stickers in subtle and unexpected locations (i.e. the backs of stop signs) making sure all are placed at equidistant intervals to ensure maximum possible exposure.

5)      Pin the beautiful enamel Country Club pin with Country Club logo to my red-blooded, still-beating American heart.

                                                    Your Sister in Arms,

                                                                       Ms. Susannah Winthrop, Age 37

High the drinkin’ age may be

You’ve suffered through it needlessly

For minors all across the land

Have come up with some daring plans.

Down yonder South, so they say

Moonshine has lit the way

Every fourth grade class, it’s said

Has a still behind the pissin’ shed.

Way out West, so it’s claimed

Children drink unashamed

Bartenders just as soon pour

A glass of milk or whiskey sour.

Up North in Yankee’s land

The apple harvest is quite grand!

When fridges ain’t cleaned, lo and behold,

Autumn cider turns a boozy gold!

In the Mid-west, I’ve heard

(Though the words were rather slurred)

Kids shouting in their whiney drawls,

“Gas only has 10% ethanol?!”

Now Uncle Sam should buy you a brew

And don’t you fuckin’ deserve it, too!?

But no matter what they legislate,

There’s a way to get wasted in every state.

Choose Your Own Adventure #386:

Conversations with the Wacky Visitor

“I have this brilliant idea for a …”

                                                                  skillsaw Turn to Page 42

                                                                  card game Turn to Page 70

                                                                  political campaign Turn to Page 23

                                                                  shitstorm shelter  Turn to Page 37

Anti Bird Campaigns of the 1990s: A 15 Year Anniversary Retrospective

“No one quite remembers why, but the United States government of 1994 implemented some things and this was one of them.”

-Barb Fisher, Statistician

Swanson, OH

“Birds will go down in history as the least trustworthy creature on the surface of the Earth.”

-Jill Dillberrie, Professor of AntiBird Sciences

at the University of Maryland, Baltimore

“Birds don’t even write their own songs! They’re just stealing them from wind chimes!”

-Bernard Russell, Third Grade Teacher

Scottsdale, AZ

“Even after all this time, I still find myself defending birds even amongst close friends.”

-Joe Parson, Plumber

Detroit, MI

“Everyone knows that eating birds will make your urine reek.”

-“Peepster,” Occupation Not Listed

Miami, FL

The sword,

A finger known to point

in two directions

viewfromthetent:

these guys know how to wake you up in the early morning by hialoakapua on Flickr.

Children’s Chant

Circa 1890

Once upon a time, a man moved his family into an antique trolley car and his woman served their children nothing but cherries and sweet, creamy unpasteurized milk until the government came.

Read More