Deviant Dispatches

*Following is a rather detailed discussion of bacteria and other gross stuff. Finish your breakfast before reading.* Dear Michael Jordan , Please be advised that I have within my possession an item that may or may not contain enough of your DNA to clone you. I suggest that you come take it away, because otherwise it may never leave the house. Back in his wild and carefree teenage years, Spousal Unit's first job was as a country club caddy , and one glorious day, he got to caddy not for you, but for your assistant. You spent several hours gallivanting across the course, whacking some balls and talking about others (of the basket/base persuasion, I'd imagine) while Spousal Unit washed your balls. He was thrilled, and understandably bragged about it to all his family members upon coming home. (This would have been more impressive to his brother, I imagine, if it hadn't also been his birthday.) But back to that DNA sample, from which we might be able to engineer a be...

I'm a fan of potating . Dear OreIda, I write to you with joy in my heart after having consumed half a bag of tater tots. These crispy, chewy, lightly salted pinnacles of starchy excellence are often the highlight of my weary days, when I make it to dinner time only by keeping thoughts of their golden perfection in mind (often accompanied by a heavenly choir). It can come as little surprise to you then that I write not only to praise tater tots, but also to request a nationwide french fry ban. No, I am not one of those obsessed with calling them "Freedom Fries" instead. I do not stand before you with a flag as my Cape of Justice and a trusty eagle sidekick on my shoulder. I merely wish tater tots to have the rightful respect that is due to them. They deserve a place beside every hamburger, every sandwich, everywhere. For what are french fries but an inferior, long-legged imposter? I also request this ban of the inferior potato so that the infamous Spud War ...

Dear Former House Owners, I'd like to thank you for the following items you so kindly decided to bequeath to us, for whatever reason. Patio table with six chairs Fire pit Seven-foot metal windmill that makes me hear this in my head Framed photo of the backyard in summer, to taunt us in this false spring Moon-shaped hanging candle holder Several children's art projects behind the closet door, as well as a Buzz Lightyear poster Child's skis and ski poles, abandoned on a top shelf in basement storage Hot pink Victoria's Secret robe, made with the tears of Sri Lankan children Random chunks of asphalt in the yard A furnace fan that will not shut up What I assume is at least eight years worth of dust I have to admit, it's weird to think about these things as though you left them to us on purpose. It's also awkward to think of you leaving them accidentally--or for any reason. Here's how I imagine some of your conversations going. Left on Purpose ...

Dear Henry Vilas Zoo, I have made a personal goal in my life to pet a penguin sometime before my next birthday, in October. I'm sure you are all familiar with the drive that comes with a personal goal like that - after all, you did have to save up for a giraffe, and those guys can't be cheap. Allow me to describe to you in detail why allowing me to pet one of your poofy Antarctic critters is in everyone's best interests. (I would go for four-part harmonies here, but this is not Alice's Restaurant and I am definitely not Arlo Guthrie. Sorry to disappoint.) 1. There's a rumor going around that penguins are not soft creatures - they are actually so sharp and solid that you could cut your hand on their dagger-like feathers. I cannot abide this kind of slander and intend to prove to the world that penguins are less like rocks and more like hot water bottles. This is first-rate journalism, I tell you. 2. Remember the movie Madagascar? I believe that having wa...

Dear Target, You suck at shipping. Other things too, but I'm sticking with shipping for now. Every year for Christmas, my family does a Secret Santa thing, because we are enormous and our wallets are tiny. This year, Spousal Unit drew the name of my sister Rachel, who wanted a popcorn popper. I dutifully went to my local Target store in search of this delightful contraption, only to find it wasn't on the shelves; alas, I would have to order it online. (Target, you may be wondering why I was the one to do this, instead of Spousal Unit. The answer, Conglomerate Retailer of Doom, is that this is how things work in our household and you should mind your own business.) When the package arrived - in a relatively short time, I might add - I only saw it from behind at first. But one thing was clear: it was shipped in its box with a thin piece of plastic around it. Nothing else adorned its cardboard sides. Target, you sad, strange little chain. I'm a fan of sa...

Remember that letter I wrote to Governor Walker ? Well, I actually sent it to him, and I received a reply, too. It was something along the lines of, "Thanks for taking an interest in government. You should keep doing that, even though I really don't care what you think and am never, ever, ever going to actually read what you send me. After all, I'm just here to turn Wisconsin into the northernmost Southern state." That might be an exaggeration. But it was definitely a form letter that is sent out to anyone and everyone who sends him letters. I realize he can't reply personally to everyone, but he could at least have that form letter tailored to certain issues. Yesterday, I got a letter from Senator Jon Erpenbach . Sure, this may also have been a form letter, but it was a form letter tailored to the issue of mandated ultrasounds and the bitch slap Planned Parenthood received. I haven't followed senators or representatives that closely in the past ...

*Warning: Triggers and politics ahead.* Dear Governor Walker, I was very disappointed to hear about the new legislation requiring women seeking abortions to 1) get an ultrasound first and 2) be forced to look at the ultrasound images. I understand that, from your perspective, this is being done to provide women with "more information" on which to base their life-altering decisions. I'd like to tell you why I think that is, to put it lightly, a misguided perception. Imagine being a pro-life woman who desperately wants a child, who has to have an abortion for medical reasons - if she doesn't, she, the child, or both of them will die. Being forced to look at that ultrasound would be a torturous reminder of what you can't have. Without that torture, would her decision be uninformed? Perhaps you are a woman who never would have considered abortion before being raped. A month or two have passed, and you are still traumatized by the event, having frequent night...

Over the weekend, I rearranged the library a bit, making room for a new bookcase and shifting subjects. I'm not sure why, but I picked up the book Undaunted Courage by Stephen Ambrose , about Lewis of the Lewis and Clark expedition. Undaunted Courage Ambrose was a pretty famous history writer and very well respected. Among other things, he wrote Band of Brothers , on which the TV show of the same name was based. While reading the dust jacket, I flipped to the back cover and found some newspaper articles about him. There was also a letter from UW-Madison geology professor Robert H. Dott, Jr., written to Ambrose in 1996 to ask whether the Lewis and Clark expedition had tents, having spent many cold, wet nights camping himself. ... And there was a reply from Ambrose (a UW history professor at the time), saying that they had buffalo hide tepees on the journey there, but slept "a la the geologists" on the trip back. As far as I can tell, it's...

*Spousal Unit works at a medical supply company. He sent this letter last week to the woman who orders company supplies. He really did.* Hi Michelle, I had a question about the pens that we have. Well, it's really more of an issue. You see, earlier today, I took a pen out of the supply closet for use on an Official Document. This document was not time sensitive, though it could very well have been. I could have had need to write a note on an important certificate for a doctor's signature, or I could have needed a pen to correct an authorization request to Medicaid. What if the patient's house had been on fire and I needed to sign an attestation in order for Medicare to cover replacement equipment, but the patient was cold, hungry, and without their medical equipment until I could do so? I hope I've impressed upon you the gravity of this situation. So I took a pen from the supply closet for use on an Official Document. At this point, I'd like to refer you to ...

Dear Health Insurance, You suck. Certainly, in some ways, you do not. It's wonderful to know I can see my doctor without having to forfeit food for the next month. It's great to have prescriptions that cost $20 or less. And someday, if I ever have severe medical issues (or, you know, spawn ), you've mostly got my back. But you've got issues beyond that. How am I supposed to choose which of you to fall madly in debt with when two of your plans are named the same thing and are almost exactly the same thing? I know there's a catch in there somewhere, but it's the waiting for it to appear (and the bill) that will kill me. Health Insurance, you are just like Two-Face. Source You are excellent to have, and in retrospect, I can't believe I lived so long without you. You're not quite the air that I breathe, but you are just what I need to be a healthy person. On the other cheek, you're malicious, back-stabbing, and vicious, ready to alter my ...

Dear Media, Just because you hate yourself doesn't mean everyone else should hate themselves, too. I'm really getting sick of all these ads I'm seeing lately. It doesn't matter what site I'm on - Facebook, Pandora, the freaking dictionary  - they are all full of ads for people with a negative body image. That or they're designed to give people a negative body image, which is Not Okay. It's driving me nuts. Imagine how it feels to me. I'm at work, trying to verify a word's definition or spelling, when BOOM: I get whacked in the face with an image of a not-so-large woman shrinking to a size 0 before my very eyes. Even if I'm perfectly happy with my body, I don't want to be confronted with the fact that most people are on diets every time I turn a corner. It's depressing. And since I'm not perfectly happy with my body (as most women and many men are not, thanks to you), all those ads do is make me question my proportions and dera...

Dear cats, Look at you there, pretending you're adorable when you're unconscious and cuddling with a knitted GIR . I am not fooled. Yes, your cuteness abounds. Your fuzzy faces are sweet, and you are so fun to watch when you play. But you have much to learn, young Jedi. Fear leads to hate, hate leads to anger, and excessive meowing leads to suffering on my part. Just listen to you. On this occasion, it was rather cute, to hear you beg and beg as I prepared your dinner - Titania, you are an especially skilled biped. But lately, both of you - yes, even Oberon - have taken to whining whenever I'm in the kitchen, regardless of how recently you've been fed. The kitchen has people-food, too. Get used to it. I know you'll probably get over your obsessive nature in time, once you realize that we will always feed you when it's time, give you treats on a daily basis, and rub your bellies when you're drowsy enough to like it. In the meantime, ou...

Dear first-year students plaguing my bookstore, STFU already. I've had the good fortune of only working two days so far this new semester, but I still have a forty-hour work week. I know classes have just started, and you're exhausted and inattentive already. (Believe me, I was there once.) But allow me to give you a brief lesson that will make things a lot easier for you. 1. The first price I state for a book is the price you have to pay. Being indignant or pissed off at me personally will not change that. I did not choose your whiny tendencies, but you don't see me scowling at you for that. 2. When I tell you there are no used copies of a book, I am telling the truth. I promise you, we do not have all the used copies sequestered in a dank basement. We are not torturing them with fire and mold; we are not forcing them to give us the answers to life's persistent questions before we set them free. The used copies have already been taken home by loving families of...

Dear Weather, You are such a tease. I see those clouds you put up in the sky this morning. Nice decorating, I've got to say, but unfortunately, I know they're all for show. You're a vain beast, Weather. I wrote a letter last summer to your evil genius partner, The Heat . Not long afterward, he got the hint and chilled out for a while. How about you, Weather?  A hundred degrees for a week straight? Come on already!  All we're asking for here is some gentle rain for a few days - maybe at a temperature that won't make it evaporate before hitting the ground. I know this might be a problem for you. Your close friend, Hell, has been visiting for weeks now. I know you like to make things comfortable for that wretched beast. But guess what? No matter what you do for that psycho, he'll still sell you out to Vader and make you work for the powers of evil. You'll be forced into cahoots with the Dark Side, and next thing you know, there's a wrinkled-ass...

Yesterday was a Day for me. No one particular thing went wrong, but little things compounded until I reached the boiling point and had a mini nuclear explosion. As a result, today my brain is a bit mutated from all of yesterday's radiation - my emotions have extra limbs, my thoughts are slightly warped, and my brain cells feel sterilized. (By that, I pretty much mean I can't think.) As today promises to be much like yesterday was, I'm taking a few extra minutes for myself this morning. Enjoy these links to other people's disgruntledness. - Rejection letters , including one from Disney about why they don't let "girls" draw. - Complaint about terrible plane food , with some spectacular hyperbole - Butts . Because they exist. (SFW) - Letters to Santa . My favorite is the girl who wants to turn into a dragon.

Dear AARP, You really have a knack for pissing people off, don't you? Take me for example. I am only 27, which (last I checked) really isn't that close to 50. I am young, I have a whole lotta life ahead of me before I get to retire and move to a quiet cottage by a lake, where I will spend my days writing, spontaneously dancing on the deck with Spousal Unit, and jetting off to awesome vacations whenever I feel like it. AARP, you and your membership card are spoiling my daydreams. Also, right now, I'm not at all looking forward to my next birthday. Jerks. According to the letter you sent me, I can get a free AARP Insulated Travel Bag. Tell me, if I send this letter back to you without payment, but with a copy of my birth certificate, do I get the bag for free? (I really ought to.) If you have AARP The Magazine (for those lengthy bathroom visits), I hope you also have AARP The T-Shirt (for bingo night), AARP The Lunch Box (for those days when you get lost in the ma...

Dear Writer's Block, Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more obnoxious and more idiotic. You are not the bread and the knife, because I am the one wielding the knife, shaking it in your face in hopes that you will be frightened off by my mad antics. You are not the crystal goblet, nor the wine, which I imbibe in hopes of shaking loose some thread of creativity from your evil clutches. I often think the wine has done its bidding, only to wake up the next morning with the ache of a thousand puns raging in my skull. On my desk is a page full of words not even Dan Brown would publish. I do not love thee, Writer's Block, to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach, because my soul does not extend to all four corners of the earth with a murky, hopeless darkness; only you are so special. I shall not love thee better after death, even though you (being the devil's most wicked torture) will not follow me to heaven. Freedom and rights have nothing to...

One of my favorite new sites is Dear Blank Please Blank . It allows people to fill in the blanks, writing short, hilarious/serious letters to various people, things, or places. For example: I can totally relate to the person who posted this. My sister will still  hoist the cat into the air - no prompting whatsoever - and start singing The Lion King's opening theme, while poor Cinnamon looks down on his kingdom, ears splayed back and terrified of his sudden removal from the ground. (In some ways, I think he's gotten used to her doing this and is just thinking, Really? Again? You just did this five minutes ago. ) Other favorites of mine are Twilight commentary. Some posts are trying so hard to be funny that they're just offensive. I have several responses I'd like to post in regard to this last one. Such as... Dear boys who post sexist things on the Internet, Please shut up. Your attempts to set women's rights back fifty years are not funny. I...

  XKCD Dear Internet, I'm really tired of you playing hard to get. You've gotten predictable that way. In the mornings, you're like, "Yeah, I'm for realz here for u!" and then in the evening, your tune has changed to, "Well, I dunno." At least learn some grammar if you're going to start hating on me. I will not hesitate to bitch-slap you with a dictionary. The Oxford English Dictionary. All 20 volumes . I don't know what to do with you anymore. Yes, I'm still interested in pursuing this. But every time you get flaky on me, you start talking about "commitment" and "contracts" and "installation fees." Hell, commitment is expensive. You think I want that? Your little game of cat and laser pointer has gotten old. I know what you're trying to do: you want me to finally admit how much I need you and give in to my anger. You want me to turn to the Dark Side and hope I'll sign my life away to y...

Dear MyHotShoes.com , I was incredibly pleased with my recent purchase from you: a pair of knee-high boots with buckles and zippers and laces all over. I felt like the most fashionable pirate on the high seas (or in my case, the Great Lakes). I kept discovering wonderful new things about them, and - ask any of my friends or family - repeatedly lauded their greatness. Now. You're based in California, so I understand (in a way) your not knowing what winter is like for us Midwestern folk. Allow me to explain. Here, we get snow. Snow is wet. Snow melts sometimes, and becomes ice. Ice is slippery. In such hazardous conditions, it is a good idea to have sturdy, reliable footwear. Not this crap that you refer to as "boots." And now for your closeup. Let me tell you about the excellent craftmanship you worked into these plastic soles, since you obviously put no soul into them yourselves. Note the six holes around the perimeter of the heel. By the time the base...