Mort, A Victim of Circumstance

Dear Mort,

It's been some time since I last wrote, and I apologize for not being a better friend. It's amazing how life always seems to get busier and busier. As I was sitting in my study today, it occurred to me that I have yet to formally apologize to you for that time I shot you in the leg. I'm sorry. I really mean that. I do not, of course, mean that I feel any regret about my actions. I still believe I made the right decision, but I am sorry that it had to happen. I am very sorry that you felt it was necessary to continue tickling me when I strongly asked you to stop. I know you thought it was funny, surely, I understand your point of view here... but I could barely breathe. If I had not happened to be packing heat at the time or been quick enough on the trigger, I may have suffocated. And that's not a laughing matter. You should know better. We're two grown men. I gave up tickling other men years ago. That said, I do so wish you would return my calls. It seems that the only person I can get a hold of in your family is your brother-in-law, the attorney. In fact, he keeps calling me. I don't really know him well at all, though, and I am not actively looking for new friends. So if you see him any time in the near future, you can tell him I don't care much for his attempts at fraternization and he can stop calling.

Your old friend,

James

The Admissions Board

Dear Admissions Board,

It's hard for me to share my entire life story in just 500 words. I also find it daunting that you've left the door open a bit by suggesting the essay comes in 500 words or less. When I read that we could write less than 500 words, I immediately started wondering if that's your way of hinting that that is actually what you would prefer. If it was what you were trying to say, I must add that it was quite the sly way of doing it, and you would do well in dinner conversations that involve code, ciphers, and double entendre and such. Anyway, I researched the topic, but was unable to find any definite answers about your preferred word count. Most web sites suggest brevity and relevance to topic in these sorts of personal essays. I decided that was the only advice that I would need and left it at there! So, I can't definitely say how many words it will take me to summarize my life. All I can say, is that not one single word will be wasted... no matter the quantity or quality of aforementioned words. You know, it’s funny, though, the way words have a way of saying so much about a person. I think it’s quite astute of you to encourage them (words) as the means to convey (tell) one’s (an individual's) story (tale). You could have insisted on a short silent film, a dramatic portrait, or some other medium that didn’t involve any words at all. But you wanted words. So that’s what I’m going to do, use words. Now, one thing you should know about me, however, is that if you change your mind and don’t want a written essay, I could pop out some nice works of art that explain very clearly where I came from, where I am going, and where I have been in the meantime. It would be a very large portrait though, perhaps bordering on mural-size because of the girth and depth of the story behind it. This would be, of course, quite complicated to pull off as an admissions board. You would have to find plenty of empty wall space near freeway overpasses for the mural. I think I would do well in this type of environment, not because I am a great artist, but because I am comfortable around freeways. The noise bothers some people, but not me. I love the nice constant buzz of air pollution. The truth is, I’m hard to distract once I’m focused, in a zone, facing the challenges put in front of me. It’s been that way ever since my uncle’s unexpected death and my unexpected incarceration regarding the incident, which was eventually all sorted out. Just some miscommunication between me and the police, most of it stemming from my poor handwriting. They misread my praise of their job for a confession! Anyway, looks like I’m already at 500 words. You should definitely let me in -- I’m great.

Sincerely,

The Next Student in Your English Doctorate Program (hopefully!)

People Who Will Not Read This Letter

Dear People Who Will Not Read This Letter,

There are billions of you. I care about each and every one of you. And it pains me that there is absolutely no way for me to tell you. I try so hard, and then, once I succeed, I still fail.

See: this letter is for you, so you should read it, but as soon as you start, know that it was no longer intended for you and does not really apply to you. All of the sudden, I've failed once again. But I'm still trying.

People who will not read this, you matter, you matter as much as anything. I don't know what you are doing. Crochet? Some of you are. Badminton? Others, sure. Hand-to-hand street combat? I hope not -- because I worry so much for your safety. I hope that right now you are too busy falling in love to see this letter, that you're under a gazebo lit by the full moon, wishing on a star for a letter to come from a total stranger.

Here it is.

Mr. and Mrs. (and Ms.) Person Who Won't Read This, some of you cry at night, saying, "no one ever writes me... no one cares." It's not true -- I'm writing you! You're just too damn busy to open your eyes and read the good word of a friend on the Internet. Come out! Leave your dark dungeons, exit your hiding places, get the Internet if you don't already have it, surrender to literacy, and read this letter!

Here is my message: I will give you one thousand dollars, people who will not read this. One thousand dollars because I care and I worry. All you need to do is contact me without having seen or heard about this letter --- because it's solely for you people who have not seen or heard about this letter.

And for those of you reading this who are not the people who will not read this, I'm sorry I couldn't address this letter to you at this time. Perhaps in the future, I will be able to write all of you a letter as well.

Sincerely,

A Man Falling In a Forest that No One Can Hear

Valentine's Day

Dear Elementary School Valentine's Day,

You were a good day. Everyone got a Valentines from everyone, even their mortal elementary school enemies. That's love, isn't it?

One year, I got these Valentine's with Batman on the front that said: I'd Fight Crime For You and edited them to say: I'd Fight Crime For You. I won a lot of fights that year. Did my Batman utility belt help? Yes, it did. Some parents were offended by those cards, but I say all's fair in love and war. Last time I checked, Valentine's Day is about love.

All is fair in love and war. Also, all you need is love. John Lennon said that, which means YOU NEED IS LOVE = IS FAIR IN LOVE IN WAR. If you do math with that phrase, I think the "is" and "love" get cancelled and then the equation reads YOU NEED = FAIR IN IN WAR. What does that mean? I have no idea, I'm just doing the math. It might mean that sometimes, we do need to go to war. Why? For love. That's the only reason it could ever be.

Which brings me back to the point I was making earlier, I'd Fight Crime For You... For Love.

So thank you, Elementary School Valentine's Day, for reminding us how to love and how to fight and how to do both at the same time.

Sincerely,

James

The Way Seniors Wear Their Pants

Dear The Way Seniors Wear Their Pants,

I don't know why. I only know that it's okay.

If you weren't so polite, always tucking the shirt, we may not have even noticed you. But we do, pretty much every time. There's nothing shy about wearing pants at the belly button and sometimes well above it. You seem to center on the gut nicely, squaring a sagging torso, halving a crouched figure. On second thought, I will venture a theory as to why: the lower the belt, the harder it is to fasten. Way to be, senior pants, way to make things easier. You are to style what those over-sized phones and remote controls are to the good life.

There's a large percentage of the population that can't keep its pants up, and you have been showing us how to do it for a very, very long time. Those kids need to take note: high pants don't go out of style, that's why seniors are still able to roll them... after all these years.

Thank you for showing us how it's done,

The Fash-cientious

The Hot Girl I Didn't Approach

Dear Hot Girl I Didn't Approach,

You had me at "____"... because we never talked. That was the problem.

Maybe we would have gotten married. Maybe we could have shared a moment. Maybe it was meant to be. Perhaps, our children would have been beautiful. Yeah, they could have been the kind of kids that are so attractive talent scouts pop out of the fireplace during dinner and kidnap them to cast them for hit TV shows... and then they would get famous and addicted to cocaine by the age of 6 and end up suing us. All of these things could have happened... but they didn't and it's all your fault.

Of course, maybe it wouldn't have been a great experience. Maybe it would have been memorably awkward, a disaster that would have been retold for generations. At least something would have happened, though -- but it didn't! And it's your fault that it didn't happen, too! Exclamation points!!! If you had been slightly less attractive I might have had the gusto to approach you. Shame on you, hot girl. Shame on you and the genes you probably got from your parents, or more specifically, your Mom, because you didn't look that much like a man. Shame on you and shame on your Mother and shame on your Father for courting your Mother.

I will never see you again. Even if I do, I probably won't recognize you because as of this writing, it's been some hours since I saw you and can't remember what you look like -- just that you were hot. That may or may not be a help in the future. The next time I see someone who is really hot, I will pretend it is you and we can do this "I'll consider approaching you but then won't thing" all over again.

Until then,

The Guy Who Made Eye Contact With You for One Half Second Today

19th Century Beards

Dear 19th Century Beards,

There was a time when the people went West, where the land was cheap, the gold was free, and the wilderness untamed. The only thing you needed was a great beard (though an ax was helpful, too). Lets face it, if you went West without a beard, you were as good as dead. One, it was warmer. Two, it adds forest cred when you run into bears. It is a statistical fact that bears are 57% less likely to eat people who wear beards. Back in the day, they didn't even call them beards, they called them BEARds.

And so, you -- 19th century beards, came to be the greatest generation of all beards. Back then, there were mutton chops that could actually chop wood. People think Abraham Lincoln was a great orator, but according to most historians, the reason the Gettysburg address proved to be successful that day was not an attribute of what Lincoln said but the way Lincoln's beard looked. If he had shaved that morning, the South would have won the war. Thank you, nineteenth century beards... for freeing the slaves. It's only a matter of time before civil rights leaders take note, and you get your own national holiday like MLK Jr.

Sincerely,

Modern Beard Envy