foreclosure-fire. And even worse, they have goofy guests: people in Star Wars costumes and the cast of Jersey Shore , like it’s a big joke, this shit sandwich they’re force-feeding Main Street. And then I hear that ting-a-ling again and see those smug motherfuckers, and this is what I finally figured out it means: It’s a gleefully enthusiastic ringing of the funeral bell for the working class. And I begin calculating the trajectory of a perfectly tossed firebomb . . . Hold on, what am I saying? I’m here moaning about my insignificant problems, when you’re the one whose entire family is rotting in a mass grave. And rebels never dig good ones, so limbs are probably sticking out, flies buzzing around—and the smell! Do I feel silly! Back to your problems: I’m on the case! Please tell me at once what I have to do to help stop the rebels! (Don’t get me started on rebels—it’s all: me, me, me, I need attention.)
Your newest best friend in maximum trust,
Serge A. Storms
Dear Serge,
It pleases me greatly for you kindness in my people’s time of necessity. The rebels are in much control and transactions limited. For your assistance, I need you deposit $10,000. This is the minimum to open numbered account among our trusted friends for me to begin secure transfer of $100 million ($50 million to be your gracious fee). Please advise when you have funds and I will forward you account number and bank.
Many Blessings,
Bobonofassi Gabonilar
Dear Bobonofassi,
Ten thousand? Is that it? This just keeps getting better and better! And to think I almost missed your e-mail between “Meet hot singles in your area” and “Turn your trouser mouse into a one-eyed python of love.” I was distracted because of that new TV show Cougar Town , which is actually Sarasota (there’s a map of Florida’s Gulf Coast during the intro, if you need to check), and these smokin’-hot menopause chicks are banging an entire city full of nothing but young studs, except the average age of the guys in Sarasota is, like, dead. Such inaccuracies make me crazy and my picture tube now has a few extremely small bullet holes, but it still won’t work anymore. Was I overreacting? You can tell me, since we’re going to have a close cosmic connection for the rest of our lives, and even longer (hope you’re not in some religion where heaven is like a Jimi Hendrix album cover with elephants wearing jewelry and a dancing goddess flapping twenty arms). Can I call you Bobo? Speaking of dead, probably no word on your family. Better that way so you won’t know about the torture. Rebels always start with the head. They use these face-spreaders. That’s just mean. Of course I have a pair myself, but I always feel bad afterward. And maybe no TV isn’t the worst thing. The other night I woke up and there was some old movie with a Cyclops. Remember when a bunch of films used to have Cyclops? And now nothing. What the fuck? Did you see Christopher Walken on Saturday Night Live ? “More cowbell”? They should do something like that with Cyclops. Okay, enough yapping: Send me that account info ASAP! I’ll be able to raise the ten Gs as soon as I reach Miami. And when this is all over, you should visit. Or maybe you should come right now, because I’ve become concerned about your safety. People say Miami’s dangerous, but at least America doesn’t have rebels. Actually we do, but they just wear funny hats and hold tea parties. No mass graves (yet). And if your family was tortured, the rebels are probably on the way to your house right now with the face-spreaders. You can always stay on our pull-out couch. Just think about it.
More Cyclops!
Serge
A businessman repeatedly tapped the flight-attendant call button over the middle seat of row 27.
A cheerful woman arrived. “How may I help you?”
“I have to sit somewhere else.”
“I’m sorry, the flight is completely full—”
“This is your captain again. We’re still experiencing some very minor
Your newest best friend in maximum trust,
Serge A. Storms
Dear Serge,
It pleases me greatly for you kindness in my people’s time of necessity. The rebels are in much control and transactions limited. For your assistance, I need you deposit $10,000. This is the minimum to open numbered account among our trusted friends for me to begin secure transfer of $100 million ($50 million to be your gracious fee). Please advise when you have funds and I will forward you account number and bank.
Many Blessings,
Bobonofassi Gabonilar
Dear Bobonofassi,
Ten thousand? Is that it? This just keeps getting better and better! And to think I almost missed your e-mail between “Meet hot singles in your area” and “Turn your trouser mouse into a one-eyed python of love.” I was distracted because of that new TV show Cougar Town , which is actually Sarasota (there’s a map of Florida’s Gulf Coast during the intro, if you need to check), and these smokin’-hot menopause chicks are banging an entire city full of nothing but young studs, except the average age of the guys in Sarasota is, like, dead. Such inaccuracies make me crazy and my picture tube now has a few extremely small bullet holes, but it still won’t work anymore. Was I overreacting? You can tell me, since we’re going to have a close cosmic connection for the rest of our lives, and even longer (hope you’re not in some religion where heaven is like a Jimi Hendrix album cover with elephants wearing jewelry and a dancing goddess flapping twenty arms). Can I call you Bobo? Speaking of dead, probably no word on your family. Better that way so you won’t know about the torture. Rebels always start with the head. They use these face-spreaders. That’s just mean. Of course I have a pair myself, but I always feel bad afterward. And maybe no TV isn’t the worst thing. The other night I woke up and there was some old movie with a Cyclops. Remember when a bunch of films used to have Cyclops? And now nothing. What the fuck? Did you see Christopher Walken on Saturday Night Live ? “More cowbell”? They should do something like that with Cyclops. Okay, enough yapping: Send me that account info ASAP! I’ll be able to raise the ten Gs as soon as I reach Miami. And when this is all over, you should visit. Or maybe you should come right now, because I’ve become concerned about your safety. People say Miami’s dangerous, but at least America doesn’t have rebels. Actually we do, but they just wear funny hats and hold tea parties. No mass graves (yet). And if your family was tortured, the rebels are probably on the way to your house right now with the face-spreaders. You can always stay on our pull-out couch. Just think about it.
More Cyclops!
Serge
A businessman repeatedly tapped the flight-attendant call button over the middle seat of row 27.
A cheerful woman arrived. “How may I help you?”
“I have to sit somewhere else.”
“I’m sorry, the flight is completely full—”
“This is your captain again. We’re still experiencing some very minor
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