LETTERS
Even More Open Letters to Random Individuals (and Creatures) Who Have Somehow Had an Impact on My LifeLOS ANGELES, CA 06 December 2007 |
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An open letter to Maggie, my neighbor’s black Lab:
Dear Maggie,
I think your name was Maggie. You were a black Lab, and you lived in a small kennel made of chain-link fencing and wood in my neighbor’s backyard. I peed on you one evening when I was about seven years old, on a dare from a few of my friends. We were standing around your kennel, looking at you, when suddenly it occurred to me that I had to urinate. I mentioned my condition to my friends, and one of them suggested that I pee on you, for fun. And then the rest of them said, “Yeah, I dare you.” And so I did.
I remember you ran back inside your doghouse once you realized that I was peeing on you. And then I ran home.
My mother got a call from your mother a few minutes later. Apparently, she had seen the whole incident from her bedroom window. On hearing the news, my mother was horrified, and fittingly, I was grounded for the better part of a week as punishment. I also had to walk over and apologize to both you and your mother in person. I can only hope that you forgave me. I really felt bad about peeing on you, in the pit of my diminutive soul. I always thought that you were a really cool dog, and I secretly wished that you were my own.
Sincerely,
Brad Listi
Los Angeles, CA
An open letter to God, Creator of the Universe:
Dear God,
When I was a kid, I was forced to go to church, and I was advised by my elders to believe in you. On many occasions, while seated uncomfortably on a hard wooden pew, listening with grave confusion to the rambling of a large, avuncular preacher, I turned my gaze heavenward and prayed in your direction. Almost every time, I prayed that you might provide some sort of definitive, supernatural evidence of your ever-abiding existence.
Dear God, I’d pray, could you please shoot a beam of purple light through that window up there above the altar, so that I can know for a fact that you’re actually listening to me?
Or:
Dear God, could you please blow out that candle sitting over there by the piano, so that I can know for a fact that your powers are actually real?
Naturally, on every such occasion, my heartfelt prayers went unanswered. My pleas were met with an altogether deafening silence.
Here and now, as I enter the prime years of my adulthood, I certainly wouldn’t expect you to trouble yourself with any of my petty requests issued forth in prayer. I can imagine that you are an incredibly busy entity with plenty of universal responsibilities to attend to. I wouldn’t think to bother you.
At the same time, I continue to find myself troubled by your total lack of regard for the innocent requests that I made as a young boy. One would think that a being as powerful and compassionate as God could trouble himself momentarily to shoot a beam of purple light through a small stained-glass window for the benefit of an innocent child.
No offense or anything, but the fact that you ignored me is pretty fucking lame. Hopefully, you will see fit to change your protocol for the next generation of good-hearted inquisitors.
Stay black,
Brad Listi
Los Angeles, CA
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Dearest Bradley,
Surely you bluster my lad. Do thou thinketh one can pull the leg of the ONE that knows no end or beginning? Who sees the secrets in your sleep?
Would purple beams or magic tricks truly convict one such as thyself?
No no no.
Besides, would you rather I blew out candles or sent you a really excellent bride?
And don’t take that hairline for granted.
Never forget,
Still got thunder in my fist.
F/F
God
By the way, not only did I see you pee on that dog - I know about all the other stuff too.
(and the stuff you’d do if you had half a chance)
We’ll talk later.
Would Walter pee on God?
dude i can’t believe you peed on a dog. i don’t even know how to feel about that. wow.
i used to ask god to do stuff like that too… just little things… so i knew he was there… i’d heard stories in church about him appearing to people and shit… and i figured, hey, if he can do that for them, than why can’t he do something small for me? just to prove that he’s out there. nothing i asked for then happened either.
but man… you peed on a dog. does walter know? he’d be ashamed of you, i’m sure.
I always prayed him to make the church ceremony shorter
i still do that…sometimes i’m like “god if you exist you turn on the tv…”
it never works.
peeing on dogs is weird,
hi brad!
Hey Brad:
I think if I could write a letter to someone it would be that woman who was the host of that old kid’s show, Romper Room. I’d ask her why she NEVER called my name when she looked through that stupid mirror of hers. I’d tell her about all the times I sat in front of the TV, screaming, SCREAMING my name just to have her say, “…and I see Jamie, and Laura, and Jenny…and Richard…”
Ah, that would’ve been music to my ears.
As always, Brad, great work.
My personal letter is to Kevin Dubrow….
Dear Kevin,
I’m really sorry you’re gone and everything..it’s pretty sad and Cum On Feel The Noize was a classic BUT since you are I think there’s something you should know..WE ALL KNEW THAT THE DEAD ANIMAL ON YOUR HEAD WAS A WIG AND THAT YOU WERE REALLY BALD.C’mon..hair doesn’t get thicker as you get older, quite the reverse in fact. It was pretty obvious dude and whenever we’d see your washed up ass on V-h1 we’d all have a little snicker at your expense…just so you know. I’m sure even God thought it looked dumb.
Your Friend,
Sam
You know Brad… I am quite a doubting Thomas myself. But i have a similar incident to share with you and TNB readers.
In February my girlfriend and I were heading from Austin to New Orleans for my grandmother’s funeral. I was rather overwrought and questioning everything. I was in the passengers seat nodding off from exhaustion when i asked God to send me a sign. And i made it specific: A White Duck. So for the next couple of minutes i peered around at the passing scenery for a white duck to signify that there was a God and everything was going to be okay. NOTHING. I started dozing off again… and upon waking up i looked to the side and in a field were at least 100 white ducks. (NOT GEESE mind you).
Somehow this didn’t make me feel better and i drifted off into a month long obsession with religion until i was ultimately pissed off (again) by the good ol’ Catholic church.
Signs are not always the answer.
Dear Kurt Vonnegut-
Thanks.
Yep.
John
Dear Evel Knievel:
In this age of absurdism and raging insecurities, of stunts for attention and boostering delusion/esteem, thanks for your example of old-fashion grit and fortitude and the somewhat lost American-esque notion that if you told someone you were going to do something you damn well did it. For preaching the gospel that you go out there, do you best, take what life throws at you and get your ass back up. You weren’t famous for succeeding, but rather for failing and never quitting. Really, you weren’t even any good at jumping motorcycles but you did it anyway, accepting fate and saying death isn’t the worst thing that can happen to a man but rather losing life long before you die. Even now, when all is dim and down, I think of you, pull it together and get back up.
Also, thanks for the gnarly scar from right wrist to elbow from jumping the fire ditch filled with barb wire on my sister’s Strawberry Shortcake bike.
See you on the other side,
1159
Don’t feel too badly about peeing on a dog.. I mean you were only 6 or so. My dad always told me the story about how horrible he feels about feeding a retarded boy dog shit when he was 10.
-Lena
None of my letters will fit in this tiny box.
I’m glad God was too busy to strike your ass with a bolt of lightening after that peeing incident.
RE: ignoring your prayers - Perhaps God is more passive aggressive than we realize.
Nice post, Brad. Here’s my letter:
Dear People,
All y’all are like, “God do this,” and “God send me that,” ordering him to prove himself to you. What’s God got to prove to you?!
When I was a little tyke, I was all, “Hey God, want to play some Mario Cart?” Before I knew it, I was whooping His ass on the Rainbow track and we became tight friends. And not once have I ever ordered him to do anything. But I do drop hints. Hints that result in bags of Cheetos flying from the kitchen to the couch, the New England Patriots running up the score so as point spreads are covered, and one-legged B-celebrities appearing on televised dance contests.
So I say to you people, how about treating God with a little more respect than you do JoJo the Circus Clown.
With Love,
John Box
Also, who’s Walter?
Walter is my dog.
I’m not very good at this but I’m gonna give it a try.
Dear Ms. Priscilla Big Fangs,
You were only a tarantula. Or so I thought. I dared my kid’s second grade teacher that if he held you I would. He did. I did. I had the cold sweats. It really wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know I almost died from a spider bite on Halloween, 1998.
I once found you on my kid’s back while he sat in the living room and I washed dishes. He screamed, “Get her off!” I thought I was in a horror film. I wanted to leave you there and run. But I flicked you off and you fell back into your cage.
I hardly fed you. Months would go by and then I’d drop in a few Jiminy Crickets. Their chorus would slowly dwindle as you sucked the life out of each one.
I guess I feel bad because finally I didn’t feed you at all and you just withered and died. My girlfriend chastised me for not throwing out your carcass.
But I just looked at what was left of you as some kind of memorial. Sorry.
Dear Brad,
Hallo again!!
I put this in my school’s creative journal, enjoy!
Disconnected Thoughts: An Open Letter to the World
by Tom Kline
Dear World,
It’s time you and I had a talk. No, I’m not here to lecture you about starting wars, or killing trees, or doing drugs, or anything like that. I’m here because I have some questions I need answered.
The first question: who the hell am I? A computer nerd? A comedian? An actor? A freak of nature? Ruler of the world? A scientific experiment gone wrong? Why in the world was I created this way? Why, pray tell, is it ME with the worst luck? Why am I the one who draws the short straw? Can’t I win at something just ONCE?
The second question: who the hell are you? Are you my audience? My servant? Are you my friend, or my enemy? Will you help me, or hurt me? Am I your plaything? Your punching bag? Does watching me stumble bring you laughter? How does it feel, watching me struggle just to get through a day of high school, facing all the pain that comes from just getting out of bed in the morning?
The third and final question is this: what’s my destiny? Will I be famous? Rich? Will I solve world hunger? Will I live the American dream (complete with wife, 2.5 children, and a picket fence)? Will I die young? Will I live forever? And, finally, will any of these questions be answered?
I’ll give you plenty of time to think about these questions. You know where to reach me, after all.
With all due respect,
Thomas Edward Kline
I put this in my school’s creative journal, enjoy!
Disconnected Thoughts: An Open Letter to the World
by Tom Kline
Dear World,
It’s time you and I had a talk. No, I’m not here to lecture you about starting wars, or killing trees, or doing drugs, or anything like that. I’m here because I have some questions I need answered.
The first question: who the hell am I? A computer nerd? A comedian? An actor? A freak of nature? Ruler of the world? A scientific experiment gone wrong? Why in the world was I created this way? Why, pray tell, is it ME with the worst luck? Why am I the one who draws the short straw? Can’t I win at something just ONCE?
The second question: who the hell are you? Are you my audience? My servant? Are you my friend, or my enemy? Will you help me, or hurt me? Am I your plaything? Your punching bag? Does watching me stumble bring you laughter? How does it feel, watching me struggle just to get through a day of high school, facing all the pain that comes from just getting out of bed in the morning?
The third and final question is this: what’s my destiny? Will I be famous? Rich? Will I solve world hunger? Will I live the American dream (complete with wife, 2.5 children, and a picket fence)? Will I die young? Will I live forever? And, finally, will any of these questions be answered?
I’ll give you plenty of time to think about these questions. You know where to reach me, after all.
With all due respect,
Thomas Edward Kline