On understanding

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Dr. Deborah King, health and wellness author
Re: Colorado shootings

Dear Dr. King,

Thank you for your Huffington Post column on the recent tragedies in Colorado--namely, the crazy fuck who shot all those people. As one who tends to shun those who would offer their exorbitantly priced health and wellness services, I normally wouldn't have come across your article. My animal fight or flight instincts would have chalked the shootings up to just another fuck with a gun and a head full of crazy. If I hadn't been trolling the Huffington Post for updates on how awful the Bush administration is (update: it's still awful), I never would have experienced your eye-opening words of wisdom.

As you kindly point out, your travels as a health and wellness lecturer have given you a unique look into the hearts and minds of the American people. You've shrewdly observed that the average upper middle class white people who come to your lectures in search of answers to life's overwhelming upper middle class white people problems are, in fact, stressed. Maybe you're right in your hypothesis that the crazy fuck shooter was simply a hormone-ravaged and over-stressed crazy fuck shooter. And can we blame him? After all, how can one be expected to face adolescence with any sort of non-murderous calm in the face of such urban spread? Until you reminded me, I'd forgotten that in the past I could simply take a walk through nature to unwind myself after a long, near-homicidal day of living. But since all forest land was destroyed via executive order and the techno-fascist megalopolis assimilated my local parks, there's nowhere for me to go--much less a young man trapped in the concrete jungle of Colorado.

And I'd almost forgotten about 9/11. You're right--no one feels safe anymore. We all awaken to the paranoid glow of our color-coded terror alarms. We're too busy being patted down by security to feel secure. If only we could enjoy the golden age of safety our parents enjoyed--ducking and covering under their flimsy wooden desks. All they had to worry about was the threat of global thermonuclear annihilation, while we run the risk each day of encountering a swarthy guy with a box cutter.

Thank God you're here to tell us how to stop these hormonally unbalanced, emotionally overloaded crazy fucks from shooting up our churches and schools ever again. I can't wait to take your advice and "unplug from the rat race", "re-connect with my humanity", and "weave a strand of peace" into my day-to-day life. Let's just hope all those crazy fucks out there do the same, or look out!

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman


RESPONSE
From: Dr. Deborah King
To: Laurence Shandy
Re: Colorado shootings

Laurence,

Thanks so much for your comments - really on point!

Best,
Deborah King

On making headway

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Reese Witherspoon, actress
Re: Salary

Dear Ms. Witherspoon,

Congratulations! No, I'm not talking about your recent split from husband Ryan Phillippe, although I suppose some kudos are in order there. I'm sure you'll sleep better at night without that droopy monotone buzzing in your cranium, and you'll make more successful morning trips to the bathroom without worrying about tripping over your ex-husband's perpetually pouty lower lip. How did you deal with that thing, by the way? Did it rest in a kind of bedpan on the floor? And what about the drool problem?

Anyway, as happy as I am that you've finally cut the dead weight, I'm even happier that you've been named the highest paid actress in our great nation! Now you can finally afford to fix your face. It warms my heart to know that even the pie-faced and butt-nosed among us kind climb the ladder of Hollywood success all the way to the top. Of course, it didn't hurt that you gave all the stepped-on masses below you quite a view. From the neck down, you're quite a looker!

However, you may want to hold off on the reconstructive surgery for a spell. Who knows whether you've risen to the top of the pay heap based on your talents and not your handicap? After all, it seems a little hard to justify a $20 million price tag for an actress who didn't even have the lead role in her most successful film in five years. In fact, your monetary value could be directly related to your appeal among America's dumpy. Soccer moms across this great land can peel their husbands away from the emotionally numbing television long enough to go see one of your romantic comedies, then come home and not feel so threatened when they look in the mirror. There's something to be said for such a talent. Maybe that's why Scarlett Johansson's movies never make any money. I take one look at her perfect proportions, and I almost want to kill myself. And I'm better looking than you!*

That said, you may want to go under the knife after all. The young Sissy Spacek had kind of a so-ugly-you-want-to-fuck her appeal, but now that she's hit middle age, it's more like a so-ugly-god-she's-so-ugly "appeal". If you don't want to waste away your golden years playing the mother of the girl who falls in love with her dog on the Hallmark Channel, a little nip and tuck might do you wonders. Just don't spend all your money in one place.

Unless, of course, that place is your face.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

*As judged by the readers of the July 14, 2003 issue of Teen People.

On clarification

From: Laurence Shandy
To: The Guy on Craigslist Who Used My Article to Make a Political Point
Re: The Use of My Article to Make a Political Point

Dear Guy on Craigslist Who Used My Article to Make a Political Point,

I'm not really sure what kind of political point you're trying to make by using my Vanity Fair article on the practical uses for dead Iraqi children. You were responding to a particularly anti-Muslim post on the San Diego Craigslist site, and you mention something about a photo of 9/11 and "Ameritards".

First of all, no photo of 9/11 accompanied my article. It is, instead, a photo of Muslim women and children running and screaming from an explosion in Iraq. As New York City is, in fact, a city--not some desert wasteland with a single lightpost--you should have been able to stave off this error using simple context clues.

Second, my article does not blame "all Muslims for the actions of GWB". I'm assuming here that by "GWB", you mean George W. Bush, though if you're actually talking about Geoffrey Winslow Bates, screen star Kathy Bates' less popular son, then I apologize. I don't blame all Muslims for the actions of George W. Bush. In fact, I don't blame all Muslims for anything. It's silly to go making blanket accusations against such a huge group of people. Unless, of course, one would like to blame all Muslims for practicing the Looney Tunes-esque absurdity that is Islam. Which I would, and I do.

Regardless, my article was not meant to be political in any way. With its helpful hints and do-it-yourself spirit, it's really no more controversial than an episode of Surprise by Design. But instead of telling you how you can make the most of your old drapes, I'm offering suggestions as to how to use all the adolescent body parts that would otherwise be thrown in Halliburton's collateral damage bins.

That said, the World Trade Center towers would still be standing in all their retro '70s glory if it weren't for the murderous Islamic doctrine so cynically and inhumanely fed into the fallow minds of Muslim youth born and bred to follow the arbitrary laws laid out by an illiterate, child-raping warlord from the 7th century.

Also, 9/11 had nothing to do with the war in Iraq. What are you, an Ameritard?

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On misplaced anger

From: Laurence Shandy
To: The Government of Sudan
Re: Jailed teacher

Dear Sudan,

Don't you like how I didn't call you "the" Sudan? I've done the research into your beautiful country, and I found out that you're not a "the". In fact, there are very few countries that are "the"s. Ukraine is just called Ukraine. The Netherlands is... Actually, isn't Holland really The Netherlands? I don't know, and, frankly, I don't care.

See, I'm not an insensitive type. Just because I'm white and of European Christian decent, and I'm not totally ignorant to your customs and ways. Sure, when people mention "The" Sudan, they can't help but harp on guerrilla fighters abducting young boys and mutilating the genitals of young girls, but there's a lot more going on in your fine country. However, you make an even worse name for yourselves when you overreact like you've just done.

You can't go throwing British school teachers in jail simply because they let their students name the class teddy bear Mohammed. It's a very popular name, like Whiskers or Sugar Smax (my teddy bear's name). It's definitely not blasphemy, no matter how you define it. And I have to tell you, the West doesn't look kindly upon any country that enforces blasphemy laws. Unless, of course, you're talking about Saudi Arabia, but they're kind of like the rich kid on the block. He's a bastard, but where else are you going to play Neo-Geo?

The least you can do is stave off any hypocrisy charges by cracking down on disrespectful depictions of the Prophet across the board. Why not start with that book you guys like. The Koran? Or is it just Koran? Regardless, that thing is chock full of all sorts of libelous claims about Mr. Mohammed. Are you really going to let malicious publishers flagrantly violate your blasphemy laws by printing books describing your most cherished celebrity as a war-mongering, bloodthirsty, illiterate pedophile with an inferiority complex almost as big as his head?

Throw the literati in jail along with that so-called "teacher". Maybe they can use their "education" to talk about "books". You know, stuff that has no place in Sudan. But no matter how tempted you are, please don't mutilate anyone else's genitals. That kind of stuff is getting harder and harder to explain.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On feeling around

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Christopher Hitchens, Vanity Fair contributor
Re: Waxed junk

Dear Hitch,

Congratulations on your efforts at self improvement. Maybe you're only turning your life around as fodder for your columns, but the deed is done regardless. Hopefully you'll tack a few more days onto the end of your golden years, but it'll be strange seeing the new you. Were we ever to cross paths covering the war-torn ravages of Eastern Europe, I'll be taken aback if I don't find you trolling the ruins of a bombed-out restaurant, locking your lips to the head chef's corpse and sucking away for any taste of semi-absorbed alcohol. If we stumble upon a gang of molotov-throwing anarcho-communists and you don't offer them sexual favors in exchange for a few cigarettes, I'll be shocked. And, of course, I probably won't recognize you if you drop below 180 pounds.

But good for you, and good for your lovely wife. Judging by our rendezvous at the National Book Awards last week, I can already notice an improvement. Sure, you still pilfered the wine glasses from all those who momentarily turned the other direction, but you did it with a kind of youthful vigor I've never seen from you before. And your pride in your newly waxed sack, back, and crack was well-deserved. Those editors and publishers who felt of your baby-soft genitals that evening were correct in dubbing them as smooth as summer cherries. It's an engineering feat in itself that so much scrotal skin could have been pulled so taut.

However, I must tell you that my own phalangial wanderings painted a less than healthy picture. I can't argue with their relative hairlessness, but I must say I felt a few worrisome bumps along the way from your urethra to your taint. Maybe they were only gooseflesh. After all, the non-fiction winner was about to be announced. (Sorry about the loss, by the way.) But with all my training in the fine arts of phrenology and reflexology, I feel I'd be amiss if I didn't warn you that the raised ridge along your life vein doesn't at all jive with the fact that Jupiter was in its western house that night. In other words, I think you have the herp.

If I were you, I'd get on the phone with anyone who left your company only to partake of a few pigs-in-a-blanket. We might have an outbreak on our hands. Literally.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On making waves

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Mike Gravel, presidential candidate
Re: Speaking up

Dear Mike,

I tried to watch the Democratic presidential debate last night. I really did. But I find the more debates I watch, the more my head becomes disoriented. Like a retarded kid on a merry-go-round, I don't know what's happening, but it all seems familiar. And the coverage doesn't help. I'm not interested in some manufactured three-way rivalry between Obama, Clinton, and Edwards. I could do without Chris Matthews' wild speculations as to whether Barack will pin Hillary to the ground, penetrate her vagina with an ice pick, and call upon John to bite off her ear.

Although that would at least be entertaining. And we'd all have to bear the uncomfortable pause when Hillary appears for the next debate sporting a diaper made out of medical gauze.

I guess what I'm trying to say is you've let me down. From the beginning of this campaign nearly a decade ago, I counted on you to pipe up as the voice of insanity. The Republicans have Ron Paul and his 9/11 conspiracy theories. You were our last best hope for a sudden outburst of bat-shit crazy.

And no, I don't count Dennis Kucinich. Crazy he may be, but with a wife that looks like that, he has a kind of inherent cool factor you'll never achieve. If the Unabomber had been married to a particularly sodomizable MILF, he wouldn't have received half the bad press he did.

While everyone else posed for campaign ads in front of crackling fires and shelves of fake cardboard books, you had the balls to throw a rock in a river and simply walk away. What happened to that guy? That's the guy I never would have voted for, but I always love to see.

If you don't open your mouth and let the crazy fly, the world's going to leave you behind, Mike. Let's face it, without this campaign, you're really nothing more than some wandering hobo with a terribly ill-conceived outlook on foreign policy. So the next time old what's-her-face is spouting on about how she may or may not support universal healthcare for only illegal immigrants, why not clear your throat, rip open your shirt, and tell America what we want to hear: "The chicken gizzards are loose, and mama's asshole needs a sprinkle! Let's negotiate with Iran!"

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, campaign adviser

On retaliation

From: Laurence Shandy
To: People magazine
Re: Matt Damon being named Sexiest Man Alive

Dear People magazine,

Fuck you.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On the lesser of two fakes

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Sen. Hillary Clinton, presidential candidate
Re: Planting questions

Dear Hillary,

Nothing against you personally, but I wish you weren't such a ubiquitous presence in the headlines lately. I'd much rather be writing to Barack Obama or even John Edwards. It's not that you're not a looker, Hillary. I'm sure you once did rather well in the rebellious upper-class hippie-in-music-taste-only demographic. It's just that there aren't many women who can fill out a pantsuit in all the right places. Gillian Anderson, maybe, and even she didn't start hitting on all cylinders until a few years into The X-Files.

But I just couldn't let this latest smear campaign against you go unanswered. So you planted some questions at a campaign stop. Big deal. I know there's been a lot of talk about how you're just another establishment candidate lining her pockets with corporate money and putting on whatever face you feel will get you elected. All of that may be true, though you should really consider shopping for another face. Something less, you know, doughy.

Still, there's a wide swath of difference between you and someone like George W. Bush. It's not a question of who plants questions and who has the knowledge, intelligence, and honesty to answer the real, extemporaneous queries of the electorate. Like anything in politics, it's a question of degrees.

Let's take Gary Condit, for example. Remember him? That guy murdered his own intern, and I can't remember which house of congress he belonged to--much less how to properly spell is first name. It could be Garry Condit, for all I care. My point is he only murdered one intern, and that's acceptable behavior. Maybe not for a serf working some monkey job for minimum wage, but congresspeople are held to a difference standard. Allowances are made in politics. Maybe if he'd murdered forty interns, I'd remember which state he came from.

Similarly, there's no comparison between your question planting and Bush's. You train your robots to ask about health care plans and what it's like being a strong-minded woman in a man's world. Fluff stuff, sure, but nothing compared to the questions the Bush camp plants. I once saw a White House staffer dressed in overalls stand up at a Bush rally and ask the president just how much Jesus loves us. And the guy still took fifteen minutes to come up with a coherent answer.

Your campaign be be a scam, but it's less of a scam than some others. Though this kind of insult-by-comparison isn't going to stop anytime soon. Who knows how it's going to rear its head in the future? I do, however, have a guess. When the media confronts you about Bush's impending invasion of Iran, just remind them of your differences with the commander-in-chief. He did it. You simply allowed it.

On second thought, you might want to stay away from real reporters. They don't tend to stick to a script.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On welcoming guests

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Joseph Ratzinger (a.k.a. Pope Benedict XVI)
Re: Visiting the U.S.

Dear Ratzo,

I'm so happy to see you'll be visiting me here in the States. Sure, you have to use a trip to Ground Zero as cover, but you and I both know why you're coming here. I think you'll have a great time. Everyone here seems to love you. No one in the media even batted an eye when you changed your name to Pope Benedict XVI. I thought it might take some time for your new label to catch on--maybe you'd have to suffer a few years as the cardinal formerly known as Joey Ratzo. But you have these people eating out of your hand.

Just a couple of tips to iron out the kinks of your visit. It's no big deal, but there are a few major differences between the U.S. and that gold-plated gaud-ville you call home. For one thing, you may slip on a wadded up scrap of latex as you're cruising the New York streets. For what they have in style, your Prada loafers are probably lacking in traction, and they're definitely no match for a cum-filled condom. That's right, Ratzo. They're everywhere. For the sake of expediency, you might not want to stop and pray for the lost sould of every little wasted sperm whenever you step on a condom. Chances are, your liaison from the visitors' center is going to have a stomach encrusted with little lost souls from the night before. It's just the way we live around here. It's a cultural difference that may be ugly, but you just have to overlook it. Kind of like your church overlooks genital mutilation in Africa. Natives will be natives, after all.

Another thing we like to do here is kill our criminals. Ironically enough, we usually catch them by examining their cum. Of course, that's also how we usually exonerate them, but that's beside the point. I know you frown upon capital punishment, Ratzo, but it's just the way we roll around here. Tell me you've never wanted to murder anyone in your life. According to that fantasy novel you're always quoting, desire speaks just as loudly as action. Over here, we just turn our desires into action. Why not stop by one of our fine prisons and flip a couple of switches or depress a couple of plungers while you're here. Just to see how the other side lives. It'll make you seem a little more tolerant, and it'll make for a great photo opportunity.

Before the flashes go off, though, you might want to think about rubbing a little shimmer under your eyes. You kind of have that dark circle, Emperor Palpatine thing going on. If you need a number, I know a guy. You might not want to shake his hand, though. It's probably covered in lost souls.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On Mailer

Dear readers,

Norman Mailer, the distinguished man of letters whose eyeballs haunt the logo for this very website, has died at the age of 84. Some have said his life served as a model for my own hard drinking, hard living, hard loving ways. On that I can only utter a feeble disagreement. Although it was he who taught me how to make love to a live kangaroo's pouch while writing a great American novel.

He will be missed.

Here I present a memorial video of Mailer rolling in the grass with Rip Torn.

On strike

Dear readers,

As you may have heard, members of the fantasy novel-esque Screen Actors Guild have decided to kink the entertainment hoses simply because the major Hollywood studios refuse to pay writers for anything they create for the Internet. Well, I'll have you know I write on the Internet (this is it right here, in fact), and I've never been paid a dime for it.

Actually, I probably should have been. Especially considering this website is owned by AOL/Time Warner.

You know what? I'm not going to write a letter today. I've got a case of Absinthe to snort my way through anyhow. See you suckers later.

I'm on strike!

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, rabble rouser

On treading lightly

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Pat Robertson
Re: Giuliani

Dear Pat,

I guess we haven't spoken since meeting on that cargo plane full of illegally mined African gold back in the eighties. As the shady looks we gave each other during the flight have already said, I know what you've been up to, you know what I've been up to, and it's best to just go our seperate ways. Still, I think we made the kind of connection only those dealing in shady back room business together can make. I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm sorry I didn't send you a condolence letter when you lost the '88 presidential election. You must have been crushed--especially after God told you you were going to win. What a let down.

Anyway, I read about your blossoming relationship with Republican presidential candidate and hero of 9/11 Rudy Giuliani, and I figured this was my opportunity to make up for lost time. You see, as a former comrade in sneakery, I feel like I should warn you off this guy before it goes too far. If I may be so bold, I've noticed your track record with male companions has been a bit spotty. Most of the televangelists you've befriended over the years are now under congressional investigation, and your former friend with benefits Jerry Falwell keeled over and landed neck-fat-first into a legacy of seething, reactionary bullshitery. You should be using your remarkable upper body strength to pick yourself up and dust yourself off--not rolling in the mud pit that is an association with Rudy Giuliani.

I know you two made time on a flight to Israel some years back (what is it about you and airplanes?), but I happen to know the guy. He's bad news. Sure, he might throw some legislation your way if he makes it to the White House. Maybe you'll get a wink as he vetoes some kind of mandatory sodomy bill. But the next thing you know, he'll be shacking up with a younger, more lively faith healer. He likes the newer vintages. By the time you're fed up enough to kick him out of your life, he'll just go sleep on the expensive luxury couch of one of his gay New York buddies. He'll be dressing in drag and performing abortions in no time--and you'll just be hole up in the 700 Club studio chowing down on Ben & Jerry's while sighing wistfully at footage of President Rudy tearing down another strip club.

This is a warning from an acquaintance in the know, Pat. Heed it like you would the voice of God. Unlike His, my predictions sometimes come true.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On omens

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Joseph Ratzinger (a.k.a. Pope Benedict XVI)
Re: Nancy Grace's spawn

Dear Ratzo,

You know I'm not one to buy into all that apocalyptic mumbo jumbo your church shoved into the back pages of the Bible. Why all the hiding, by the way? I understand saving the good stuff for the end, but it's a little jarring to be reading epistle after epistle after epistle, and then--BAM--a seven-headed dragon. Anyway, the whole thing seems dotty to me. Assuming St. John wasn't really an underpaid, non-union scribe of the early church with a grotesque imagination, I don't put much stock in the epileptic fever dreams of one of Christ's lesser hangers-on.

But I believe what I see. Or at least I believe what comes down the news service wire. And I have to say the news that two living creatures have slithered out of Nancy Grace's infernal womb is enough to start me browsing Amazon for a Left Behind novel. Well, almost.

I know you're not one to fret over the end of the world, but you predecessor sure was. I've seen the documents. I've been under a cardinal's skirt or two, and I'm surprisingly fluent in ancient Greek. The astronomers won't admit it, of course, and the deeds may have been doctored, but I happen to know J.P.2 dug deep into the Vatican's coffers and came up with enough dough to purchase the world's premiere observatories. I guess what I'm trying to say is maybe your Jesuits and other crazies should have been aiming their telescopes a little lower--maybe right between Nancy Grace's thighs--because only Wormwood could have gestated within that demonic husk.

Don't worry, we still have time. Neither of these twin engines of destruction yanked from Nancy Grace's loins could be Lucifer himself. He is, after all, the light bringer, and I've stared into Grace's eyeholes long enough to know there's nothing resembling light inside her. But they could be the Devil's heralds, in which case we'd better be prepared for Armageddon.

Kick off your Prada loafers, Ratzo. It's time to go to work.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On sympathy

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Oprah Winfrey
Re: Abuse

Dear Oprah,

How are you? That's not just an empty greeting. I really want to know how you're doing. Personally, I could never imagine being in your situation. You set up an academy in South Africa to train young girls to be your henchwomen, and here they go getting abused. I wonder how anyone could live with themselves after sexually, violently, and verbally assaulting teenage girls under their charge, but then I realize it wouldn't be all that hard. You know, comparatively speaking. Far less difficult, anyway, then continuing to breathe after realizing you, Oprah, have been let down.

Despite how often your tear-wiped face has appeared on my television to tell me how hurt you are that these girls were hurt, I can't imagine that their hurt matches your hurt. After all, they're teenage girls in South Africa, a country where a little sexual abuse is tantamount to an aggressive "how do you do?". You're Oprah Winfrey. Like E.T. with Elliott, a whole nation is empathically linked with your psyche. Your hurt is our hurt.

As this trial gets underway, I hope the media doesn't become distracted by a few young, abused faces on the witness stand and overlook the real story here. Maybe by setting aside a few minutes of your show each day to draw attention to just how much you're suffering, we can prevent you from ever suffering this way again.

Here's hoping.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On going undercover

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Washington State Rep. Richard Curtis
Re: Gay sex

Dear Dick,

Laurence Shandy here. I don't know if you know this, but the media seems to be all atwitter over the allegation that you solicited gay sex from a Spokane man and claimed he stole your wallet after you refused to pay the $1,000 you promised him. Oh, and also you were wearing women's lingerie.

Personally, I don't understand what the big deal is about men wearing women's underpants. If you'd been in a pair of silk boxers, no one would have said anything, and a nice pair of panties provides the same kind of luxurious comfort with just a little more scrotal support. Frankly, I don't know why anyone wears anything else under their trousers. And there's nothing wrong with gay sex by itself, either. In fact, I think the only reason you've made the headlines is because you're the third Republican in government in three months to be popped with a gay sex scandal.

A word of advice: abandoned this "deny everything" tactic your colleagues have so famously squandered. No matter how many times you tell the world you're not gay, there's always going to be the matter of the police report, the testimony of your gay sex partner, and your gay porn mustache. (By the way, don't think of shaving it. It compliments your bone structure beautifully.) Instead, why not just come clean? So you engage in a little gay sex from time to time--how else are you going to know it's a lifestyle you don't support? Don't knock it till you've tried it, as they say.

Look, I'm all the time engaging in activities of which I disapprove. It keeps the mind sharp and gives me more ammunition in my arguments against the practicing of those very same hobbies. I would never vote for the legalization of blindfolding donkeys and treating them like a cheating spouse, but I do it anyway. I can refute the morality of such an act in gross detail, because I've experienced it in even grosser detail.

I'm not saying gay sex should be outlawed or that homosexuals shouldn't have equal protection under the law (although that would make the whole enterprise titillatingly illicit), but I respect your views. And you obviously respect those views enough to explore them to the fullest. Kudos to you, sir.

But next time, try not to offer your wallet up for collateral to a gay prostitute. That's just bad business sense, and no one wants a state legislature who's so careless with money.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On Halloween

Dear readers,

This Halloween, like most Halloweens, I'll be hiding from the ghosts of my former conquests in the broom closet. And speaking of former conquests, enjoy this clip of Vincent Price performing on The Muppet Show.

On playing politics

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Rudy Giuliani, 9/11 promoter
Re: bin Laden invitation

Dear Rudy,

First of all, 9/11. Now that that's out of the way, let's get to the issue at hand. The Democrats seem to be up in arms about your recent claim that Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama would invite Osama bin Laden to the White House if they were elected president. I know you were just making a crack at their limp-wristed calls for diplomacy, so you don't have to explain yourself. I understand your "shoot first, ask questions never" position. Diplomacy calls for an effort to understand a madman's position. Maybe even to learn a greeting or two in his native language. I know as president you'd be too busy preventing another 9/11 to pop in a Rosetta Stone CD on Arabic. However, I don't agree with you on this. Personally, I'd never pass up a chance to meet face-to-beard with Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. Have you ever caught a whiff of that guy's musk? I broke into the Columbia University auditorium just to sniff his podium. Smelled kind of like dates and human rights violations.

But even outside the realm of overly ambitious diplomacy, I feel you shouldn't be too quick to judge a candidate's open invitation to Mr. bin Laden. After all, the guy's loaded. Politics being what they are, the next president's barely going to have enough time to whack it (or squish it, if the case may be) in the Lincoln Bedroom before they have to ramp up the fundraising machine for the next election. bin Laden may be cold, hard evil, but he's also got some cold, hard cash. And that's Saudi cash, too. The good stuff. I think they're on the oil standard.

Draining the pockets of bin Laden just makes good fiscal sense. One advantage of today's political climate is that there's no indiscretion too egregious not to fall away at the first sound of a half-assed apology. I mean, the Department of Justice's voting rights chief just gave a speech where he claimed there were no elderly minorities because they all die off quicker than whites. All he had to do was issue a little mea culpa through his spokesperson, and all's well. If CNN's cameras happen to capture a blurry shot of bin Laden being ushered into his limo outside the White House's front door, what's the worst that could happen? Obama or Clinton would just have to stand in the press room, lake a couple of softball questions from David Gregory, and give a little shrug. If they're talented enough, they might even try an Urkel-esque "Did I do that?" catchphrase. In a wink, they'd not only be lovable goofs, they'd have a healthy campaign war chest, and bin Laden would have a few less dollars to plan another 9/11.

You know, I just thought of something Rudy. If there's one thing the American people love more than a catchphrase, it's an action-packed sequel. Maybe you should consider extending an olive branch to bin Laden as well. After all, you could always be the hero of 9/11 one more time.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On quality control

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Marka Hansen, president of Gap Inc.
Re: Child labor

Dear Ms. Hansen,

Well, this is simply disgusting. How can you sleep at night knowing that under your watch the Gap used unpaid child slave labor to produce its garments? I couldn't believe what I had my secretary read to me. Children sold into factory slavery by their parents? Sweatshops overrun with excrement from overflowing toilets? Beatings with rubber pipes; oily rags stuffed in mouths, as simple punishment for a shed tear?

This is the stuff of Thunderdomian nightmares. And I was even more appalled by this news than anyone else. Just last week I purchased a pair of skinny fit Gap jeans (who says anorexia's a disease?) and the blasted things have already started falling apart. Ms. Hansen, if you're using starving 10-year-olds to stitch these garments, shouldn't the public expect a tighter seam? Shouldn't every fiber of this fabric be covered in the durable salt of an Indian preteen's sweat?

If I wanted my clothes to unravel at a moment's notice, I'd buy pants made by paid adults. Lord knows you're not passing down the savings ($40 for a pair of boxers?), but I understand that. As a libertarian, I have faith in a free market system. I'll fight for your right to make a profit, but I won't let you exploit these children if I'm not seeing any results.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, consumer advocate

On the bright side

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Dana Perino, White House Press Secretary
Re: Climate change benefits

Dear Dana,

You look nice. I mean, you're looking really good. You always look good, though. I'm not trying to say you sometimes don't. I'm just saying you look particularly nice today. You know what? Let's try this again.

Hi. Laurence Shandy here. You may remember me from your peripheral vision. Look, I know the bloggers and pundits are up in arms over your suggestion that global warming leads to health benefits. But they're blinded by their politics. They don't see the bigger picture like I do. Like you do. Like people like you and I do.

We have a lot in common, is what I'm trying to say. Probably. Maybe we can talk about it some time?

Here's the thing. What with all the bans on public smoking, it's not like a few greenhouse gases are going to collapse anyone's lungs. If anything, they're just making up the difference. And it's not the severe drought that causes the kind of preternaturally arid conditions that lead to massive wildfires. It's the irresponsible campers who take advantage of those conditions.

But you know my favorite part about having a warmer climate? I don't have to worry about climbing naked into a bed full of cold sheets every night. Cold sheets are the worst. What with all the nipple hardening and everything. You know what I'm talking about.

Of course, there are some bad things about global warming as well. In such a temperate climate, you no longer need the warmth of my body to comfort you through the night. But just because you don't need it, it doesn't mean you don't want it, huh? Am I right?

Why won't you return my calls?

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On the back room

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Rep. Nancy Pelosi, (D) California
Re: SCHIP vote

Dear Nancy,

Unlike sick children across the United States, this whole SCHIP debacle just won't die. Now the Republicans in Congress are crying foul over the fact that you've set the vote to override President Bush's veto for this Thursday--the very day you know full well that several Republicans will be accompanying Bush to your home state as he attempts to single-handedly extinguish the flames which threaten to incinerate your district. Aside from the smell of sneaky politics, this move opens you up to criticism from those who would say you should be in California yourself--not pushing through politically advantageous legislation.

I can't pretend to understand your moral quandary. I myself have never seen a sick child, so I have a hard time placing a face to an idea. My own illegitimate children must pass a rigorous health exam before they're even allowed into my building. But I can appreciate the tactical advantage this legislation gives your struggling party. Let's face it--the war's still going strong and I can still be subjected to the CIA's S&M tactics without cause or warrant. The Democratic party needs a victory here, and the SCHIP bill is just the kind of thing you can force a 12-year-old to pimp. And taxing smokers to pay for it? Brilliant move. America hates smokers almost as much as they love preteens. It's a win-win.

Sadly, though, you're no match for the veto pen of a lame duck president with an approval rating barely in the double digits. How else are you going to stand up to such mighty power than by sneaking in a back room vote? The Republicans have left you no choice. Best to just get this thing out of the way when they're not looking. And maybe while they're busy invading Iran, you guys can pass some kind of torture ban.

Just kidding. How could you possibly get enough votes for that?

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On Romney

Mitt Romney's not enjoying the best of times these days. His square, masculine jaw; his spit-shined hair; the beautiful chiaroscuro of his gleaming teeth against his preternatural tan--none of these presidential qualities seem to overcome the political momentum of a lisping, pro-choice bald guy or a droopy D-list actor. He's not the best speaker, either. Just recently, he repeatedly transposed Osama bin Laden's name with Barack Obama's. Plus, he's equated his sons' campaign shilling with brave military service. And now, just as he was beginning to enjoy the support of the Christian conservative voting block, he releases this campaign video:



Not the best way to hide your dirty laundry, Mitt. With all the concern over unchecked expansion of executive powers, people are going to feel a little uneasy with a president who plans to literally ascend to godhood. And speaking of laundry, why not watch this stunning work of investigative reporting by journalist John Safran:



With all this in mind, I've decided to resign my position as Mitt Romney's unofficial campaign adviser. Sure, I can drive the press in circles while my crew scrubs a prostitute's blood out of a campaign bus' ventilation system, but there are just some problems nobody can fix.

On burying the lead

From: Laurence Shandy
To: CNN.com
Re: Celebrities on fire

Dear CNN.com,

I know very little about southern California. As an East Coaster, I don't travel there very often, and when I do, I'm usually in too altered a state to really make sense of the place. I'm more likely to wake up in an anonymous Hollywood motel next to Tyrone Power's corpse (true story) than I am to study the ins and outs of Californian geography. However, I do have a basic understanding of the lay of the land, and I couldn't help but notice your excellent coverage of the currently raging wildfire.

Sure, it's interesting to read about thousands being evacuated from their homes and then the subsequent burning of those homes. I'm more than a little interested in stories of desperate rescue efforts amidst plumes of smoke and clogged roadways. It's even nice to hear a heartwarming tale of evacuees giving up their cots to the elderly and infirm. But we all know the real national concern here, and it doesn't have anything to do with the middle to upper income nobodies filling up our computer and television screens. No, I need to understand how this natural disaster will effect our filmed entertainments and prized celebrities--you know, the things that matter.

Which is why I was disheartened to see that on the priority list of wildfire coverage, you chose to place the headline "Fire affects TV shows, celebrities" all the way at #9--just above a story about Barack Obama's embarrassing link to homophobic gospel singer Donnie McClurkin. Who cares about whether or not San Diego's NFL stadium will be big enough to house all the homeless if I don't have the peace of mind that comes from knowing if Keifer Sutherland will be able to make it to work? If I'm worrying about Teri Hatcher's risk of smoke inhalation, how do you expect me to concern myself with pictures of a burned out cul de sac? Unless, of course, that cul de sac used to house America's sweethearts Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson.

Pull your heads out of your asses and get on the ball, CNN.com. I need to know whether or not Dancing with the Stars will still be on when I change the channel from Larry King.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On bedside manner

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Dr. Leo Trasande, assistant director, Center for Children's Health and the Environment, Mount Sinai Medical Center
Re: Body burden

Dear Dr. Trasande,

Thank you so much for stoking another medical panic in this country. Just when our heart rates had stabilized over SARS, bird flu, shark attacks, monkey pox, AIDS, and jungle rot, you come along with your "body burden" testing and get as all hysterical again. Isn't it enough that genius physician and former Playboy playmate Jenny McCarthy discovered autism in childhood vaccines? Don't new parents have enough to worry about with their polio-ridden, unvaccinated children without you coming along and screaming about how most of their babies' blood is industrial chemicals?

So what if you found an 18-month-old with more hi-tech polymers floating around his innards than the Space Shuttle? For my money, there's no replacing the peace of mind a parent should feel if their child is composed mostly of flame retardants. You can say goodbye to spontaneous infant combustion for good. There's no telling how much money the average family will save on urns, dustbins, and ruined cribs. What's a potential thyroid condition when compared to a lifetime of fireproofing? Even if (and this is a big "if") these polybrominated diphenyl ethers act on human babies like they do on lab rats and cause early puberty, what's the harm? A sixth grader with a nice rack and/or a full beard will never want for popularity.

Frankly, these chemicals sound like a wonder drug. Hello, infertility; goodbye, tax burdens. Are you aware that this stuff has even been known to shorten the space between the anus and genitals? 'Taint nothing wrong with that. My chode's like an alien landing strip. I had a one night stand with Erich Von Danikan, and he wouldn't remove his head from my thighs.

Regardless, we don't even know what effect these chemicals even have on people. Instead of freaking out innocent parents, why not raise your own children in a chemical-free environment? Think of it as a control group. Wrap your baby up in a wool blanket freshly ripped from the muscle tissue of a syphilitic sheep. Pick out the mites from your baby's bottle of unpasteurized milk, and pray she doesn't come down with monkey pox in the middle of the night. All in the name of science.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On glorification

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Sen. Hillary Clinton, (D) New York
Re: Woodstock museum

Dear Sen. Clinton,

Laurence Shandy here. Normally I'm not one to agree with your colleague John McCain. I find his abrupt transformation from an Episcopalian to a Baptist both tasteless and pandering. Plus, I believe he may be an albino, and I've never trusted that thieving race. But I have to commend his condemnation of the Woodstock museum earmark you've tacked onto a health and education spending bill. Not that I'm against pork-barrel spending, mind you. How do you think I was able to get Ted Stevens to build me an Alaskan ice castle?

No, I'm simply against the idea of remembering Woodstock as anything other than a disgusting waste of time. Look, I know you're a former hippie. It's one of the things I like about you. You're a woman who's not afraid to wear a little bush. But it's time your generation came to its senses. I was there, you know. It was terrible. I still have a visceral gag reflex upon seeing the color brown. No one could tell you whether it was acid, mud, or a handful of some Grosse Pointe runaway's shit. Sure, I ate it anyway. And sure, I saw some things you wouldn't believe. But there is no amount of brain damage that could convince me a four hour guitar solo is a good idea.

I won't diminish the contributions of Mr. Hendrix or even Mr. Cocker, but please don't buy into the "seminal moment" marketing machine. That's the kind of revisionist history that sold us Woodstock '94. Aren't you forgetting that we also had to sit through acts like Sweetwater, The Incredible String Band, and Sha-Na-Na--the whole time with meningitis crawling all over our skin? And David Crosby? If I wanted to be taught the finer points of love from a mustachioed fat man, I'd rekindle my romance with Wilford Brimley. At least he could serve me up a bowl of warm oatmeal afterward, and I wouldn't have to fear the strips of cinnamon might actually be acid, mud, or poop.

Instead of spending a million of our taxpayer dollars on some tourist trap, why not just build a snowman out of your husband's fecal matter, wrap a headband around it, and plant a daisy in its head? Or, as Pete Townshend put it while beating Abbie Hoffman, fuck off.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On jungle law

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Michael, sex offender
Re: Paradise

Dear Michael,

Since I don't have your last name, I don't really know where to send this letter. I can only hope you've found it yourself. Maybe you Googled "Michael". I am, after all, fairly high on the Google listings. Search for "remove a dildo from the butt", and I'm number one.

Even though you may never read this, it's probably a good thing you didn't give your real name to CNN's Rich Phillips. After all, you are a registered sex offender, and I'm sure privacy is your top priority. Well, maybe a close second behind molesting children.

As the reluctant spokesman for St. Petersburg, Florida's Palace Mobile Home Park, where 95 of the 200 residents are fellow sex offenders, you did a bang-up job of making your case against a world hell-bent on destroying the lives of our nation's dangerously perverted. St. Petersburg, long a haven for society's outcast and violently deranged, is the perfect home for a community of the future like the Palace trailer park. You've described your home as a "piece of paradise", and for anyone over the age of six, this is most definitely true.

I must admit to shedding a tear over this speech: "As a sex offender -- when you come out, you're told you can't do this; you can't be around children; you can't go to parks; you can't go to the beach; you can't go to the library." Bravo, Michael. You're like the Rosa Parks of sex offenders, only instead of standing up for your tarnished rights, you've hidden in a rusty trailer in the woods. Paradise, indeed.

Look, I don't pretend to understand your affliction. Personally, I can't imagine engaging in any coital act without the erotic friction of two or more tufts of pubic hair rubbing together. But everyone deserves a second chance.

For you won sake, though, you might want to put up some kind of sign. You know, for trick or treaters.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On disappointment

Dear readers,

Unfortunately, there's no Shandy letter today. Honestly, I could barely pull myself out of bed to type this. In the walk across the floor of my incomprehensibly expensive bedroom, my feet have become covered in spent tissues--adhered to my skin by the saline grip of stale tears. And some cum. You see, I was ejected from the Kodak Theatre before J.K. Rowling's recent reading from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. No, dear readers, I'm no Potterite. Are you stupid? Do you think I'd stand for such driveling prose?

Sorry. Anyway, it's J.K. I wanted. Want. Have wanted. Those ruby lips. Those ruby eyes. That ruby hair. "She must be mine," I said when-I-first-saw-her-edly.

You see what she's done to me? My heart is so addled, I'm beginning to write like her.

So what if it wasn't my child with cerebral palsy? Shouldn't it be enough that I was there in the front row with any child with cerebral palsy? You see, it's not just my life those guards ruined when they chucked me--it was also the "life" of that severely handicapped child I borrowed from a ticket scalper outside. And where the hell does a ticket scalper get off bringing kidnapping charges? Glass houses, anyone?

I guess it didn't help that I had a monkey net and a bottle of chloroform in my knapsack.

I haven't felt this way since my Meredith was taken from me. And this was my last chance to meet her. J.K. doesn't return my calls. She doesn't run in my social circles. And there's no way I'm visiting Britain. I refuse to eat boiled food.

Anyway.

I'll be back tomorrow. If I don't do something drastic in the meantime.

Best etc.,
Laurence Shandy, and so on

On sticking to your guns

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Dr. Phil Long, Medford School District 549C superintendent
Re: Armed teacher

Dear Dr. Long,

National literary treasure Laurence Shandy here. I'm not going to make fun of your name, so don't worry. No, I'm simply writing to commend your decision not to allow English teacher Shirley Katz to carry a concealed weapon in the classroom. She can whine all she wants about a homicidal ex-husband and, as an afterthought, a Columbine-style attack. You and I both know that bullets are no match for a trashcan full of homemade napalm, and they definitely don't stand a chance against an adrenaline and PCP-fueled former spouse. My ex, Meredith, once attacked me after learning of an embarrassing and salacious incident involving myself, her sister, and a carnival barker. It took a flurry of harpoons and a direct order from NORAD to take her down. Love does funny things to a body.

I guess my point is the same as yours. If a gun's just going to slow down her ex-husband before he delivers his killing blow, then a wall of eager young schoolchildren would serve the same purpose. With a mouth full of baby teeth, there's no reason for them to hold back on their biting power. Plus, you've eliminated any chance of someone reaching into Ms. Katz's blouse, pulling out a 9mm, and playing a deadly game of show and tell.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On fighting back

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Gen. Michael V. Hayden, CIA director
Re: Investigating the investigators

Dear Gen. Hayden,

Addressing a CIA director as "General" is going to take some getting used to. That's a term I've usually restricted to military men and Tuesday night lovers. Of course, there have been a few former CIA directors I've counted among those Tuesday night lovers, so I suppose it shouldn't make me that uncomfortable. Lest you think I'm coming on to you, I must say you're not my type. Sure, you're powerful, but I've had more powerful men. And what with all the rendition and torture your organization has enjoyed, I assume you'd be pretty forceful in bed. But when I'm engaging in a little light B&D with a quasi-government official, I like to keep it just that--light. I mean, I like Oreos too, but what kind of masochist would bite into a Domino's Oreo pizza?

The recent revelation that your office is investigating the office of the CIA Inspector General for exercising too much untoward curiosity about your secret torture program is what finally crossed you off my list of potential suitors. Look, you can't go investigating the people who are investigating you--especially if they're investigating your illegal psycho-sexual proclivities. I don't have a problem with you and your underlings abducting random Arabs and bending them to the will of your riding crops. The fact that they haven't done anything wrong just makes the submission that much sweeter. But there's a line, General.

You think that Alabama pastor who was found dead with a dildo in his butt used to go to church in his full bondage gear? Of course not. He threw a suit over it. If you're going to explore your kinks, do it with a bit of discretion. The only reason anyone ever found out about him was because he got a little too randy to properly clean out his breathing tube. It's a shame that the media and the world at large has discovered that the CIA keeps secret dungeons all over the world where they enact their darkest S&M fantasies on unwitting detainees. But the cat's out of the bag, and there's no way even an investigation of your overseers is going to force that pussy back in its sack.

You've proven yourself the worst kind of dominatrix--one that refuses to acknowledge the safe word. And the safe words in this situation are simple: "illegal", "unconstitutional", and "human rights violations". If you keep behaving like this, there's no way I'm going to invite you over for a little Tuesday night fun. After all, how could I trust that when I say "Poughkeepsie", you'd turn off the jackhammer?

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On journalistic integrity

From: Laurence Shandy
To: The Montgomery Advertiser
Re: Dead pastor

Dear Advertiser,

Peabody Award-winning journalist Laurence Shandy here. I must say I was appalled to read your paper's shoddy coverage of the Rev. Gary Aldridge accidental death case. Your initial reports of the circumstances were so vague that they led Aldridge's fellow Liberty University alumni to believe he may have been murdered. I wonder why you didn't report all the relevant facts. From reading the Advertiser, I could easily learn that Rev. Aldridge was a former employee of Jerry Falwell's, that he was a devoted family man, that he was beloved by his congregation at Thorington Road Baptist Church. I could even read about how his body was found shrouded in two wet suits, face masks, flippers, and rubber underwear. That he had hogtied himself, bound himself in leather straps. But what I could not learn about in the Advertiser was the fact that Rev. Aldridge was also found with a dildo stuck in his butt.

To me, the dildo in the butt seems the single most pertinent piece of the puzzle. Let's call it "the smoking dildo" of this case. You can't have slobbering sheep running around crying murder when they know the pastor had a dildo in his butt. Everything else reeks of foul play. Perhaps the pastor was murdered and bound by some sadistic scuba diver. But the dildo in his butt--that changes everything. It's the kind of thing Angela Lansbury would find at a taped-off crime scene. The wet pop of the dildo's removal would signal an a-ha moment. It would crack the case.

This is just sloppy reporting on your part. I expect a little more from the local newspaper of Montgomery, Alabama. It will take a long time to remove this dildo of shame from the butt of your integrity.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On envy

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Laura Bush, first lady
Re: Burma op-ed

Dear Mrs. Bush,

First of all, let me congratulate you on your success on being the wife of a world leader. I know I haven't spoken to you directly in many years, but I just thought you should know you've been in my thoughts. When my hands roam and my mind drifts, I think of the times we used to share in the back of that Chevy so long ago. Anyway, all awkwardness aside, I'm happy for you.

And I was pleased to read your recent Wall Street Journal op-ed about the military regime in Burma. Your calls for them to step aside and make way for democracy, I'm sure, won't fall on deaf ears. What are the desperate cries of a tired and huddled mass of monks compared to the crisply typed prose of the U.S. president's wife? Pitter patter, that's all.

But I wondered why you wrote this piece yourself. Shouldn't such headstrong and morally superior rhetoric be coming from your husband? Or at least from his iron-assed mistress, Condoleezza Rice? (Sorry, Laura, I'm sure that's a sore spot.) I guess what I'm getting at is that I'm used to you taking a stand for adult literacy and patting the heads of little Aryan Easter egg hunters on the White House lawn, but I was a little surprised to see your supple toes planted in the door of foreign policy.

I wonder, Laura, if you're not grooming yourself for a presidential run of your own. It makes sense, of course, what with Hillary Clinton's apparent success on the campaign trail. After all, you may be the First Lady, but she was First Lady first. That has to sting a little. But I'm not sure you have the chops for a shot at the highest office. I know you have a vagina, and I'm pretty sure Hillary does as well, but that may be the only thing you have in common. America may not be ready to elect a female president, but it looks like it might be ready to elect Mrs. Clinton. After all, she's demonstrated a very masculine proficiency in pigheadedness and duplicity. I'm not saying Hillary is a man, but I am saying that special interest groups in this country have grown used to paying off politicians not so much in traceable cash, but instead in the more ephemeral pleasures of hot and cold running whores. Not so much your bag, I know, but Hillary seems to have reached some kind of compromise--at least with the health insurance industry.

I think you're too delicate for this game, Laura. That isn't a sexist insult, either. Your tenderness is what attracted me to you in the first place. You were like a soft, squishy oasis in the middle of the desert. To run for president, you'd have to have a heart and a laugh as cold and robotic as your stare. Not to mention the fact that you'll have to maintain a family values front by sticking with that dullard husband of yours. No, Laura, I think it's best if you slip quietly out of the public life next year. Leave the keys to the Lincoln bedroom to someone else, and become your own woman again before it's too late.

Love,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

PICTORIAL BONUS: Click here for an exciting picture of Laura Bush--a favorite from my collection.

On public relations

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Hu Jintao, president of China
Re: The retarded

Dear President Jintao,

Congratulations on your country's red carpet welcome to the 21st century. I have to say, I'm still a bit uneasy with China's growing foothold in the Western capitalist world. Seems like only yesterday I couldn't roam the streets of Beijing wearing my golden Chai pendant without fear of violent retribution from the Red thought police. (I'm not Jewish, by the way. Just a really big Elvis fan.)

But now look at you. Not only have you become the heart of industry--supplying the world's overfed free marketers with their unnecessary and brain-numbing toys, but you're also poisoning their children with lead paint. And all for a profit! Twenty years ago, the Chinese pictograph for "profit" was just a guy shrugging his shoulders.

Not only have you upped your profile by landing the next Olympic games, but you've now rolled onto your back and shown the global stage your softer side by hosting your very first Special Olympics. This is quite a turnaround for the nation that once refused to admit mentally disabled people even existed among its population. Who knows how many brownie points you've earned among the Western bleeding hearts by not only granting corporeal reality to the retarded, but by condescendingly embracing the idea that they're also "special"?

But you know what really impresses me? That you're able to pull off such a hearts-and-minds operation while still maintaining China's dignity and fierce independent spirit. And by "independent spirit", I'm not just talking about your complicity in the mass slaughters of innocent people in Darfur or your tacit approval of governmental oppression in Burma. I'm not even talking about your paranoid censorship policies, human rights violations, or reputation for political imprisonment. No, I'm talking about the fact that just this year a Chinese human trafficking ring selling retarded slaves to brick factories was shut down. I'm talking about the fact that while some smiling Mongoloid poster child is running in slow motion through a white ribbon, mentally disabled children across your country will be locked in cages or being prescribed death by their family doctors.

I hope you take no offense at this, President Jintao, but China's new found ability to say one thing and do another is downright American. And British. But mostly American. And French. Kind of Iranian, too, when you think about it.

Anyway, welcome to the world.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On cracking down

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Colleen Barrett, Southwest Airlines president
Re: Dress Code

Dear Ms. Marrett,

Notable raconteur Laurence Shandy here. I hope I'm not mistaken in assuming you're a woman. I've racked my brain trying to think of a man with the name "Colleen" and come up short, but I've also been unsuccessful in my attempt to find another major company with a female president.

Regardless, I'd like to congratulate you and Southwest for your recent corporate crackdown on innuendous novelty t-shirts. I understand your public face wears a different expression. You can apologize all you want for "rogue" employees "infringing" on passengers' free-speech rights. I might even agree with your condemnation of dress code enforcement when it comes to scantily-clad ladies. That girl you kicked off the plane for wearing a miniskirt and a tanktop? Well, I can't get behind that kind of censorship. Many's the flight where my close proximity to a bra-less coed struggling with her overhead bag has been my only entertainment. A few minutes in the bathroom alone with my mental images can always beat the pants off a warm towel and another in-flight screening of Cheaper by the Dozen 2.

But banning novelty shirts? That I can get behind. You can always tell the people who have no sense of humor by how hard they try for a laugh. I'm all for your "rogue" employee's decision to ban a shirt advertising an imaginary fishing store with the words "master baiter". Such trash is, in fact, offensive--not to my delicate disposition, but to my appreciation for the comedy greats. You won't find the pithy wit of H.L. Mencken or Oscar Wilde on one of those shirts. No, those are the kind of shirts that litter the sale bins at the mall. Those are shirts for date rapists and college drop-outs.

I made no complaint when I was kicked off a flight for wearing my "There's no 'I' in 'Al-Qaeda'" shirt. How could I expect those flight attendants to believe I'd just come from an Islamic irony convention? You can tell a lot about a person from the clothes they wear, and if we (and by "we", I mean "you") begin restricting the rights of the world's "bikini inspectors", "muff divers", and "master baiters", then perhaps we'll finally cut down on Dave Matthews Band ticket sales, Dane Cook films, and fetal alcohol syndrome.

You're doing good work, Ms. Barrett. Keep it up, and you just might have a future in this business.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On centennials

Dear readers,

Welcome to the Letters from Shandy 100th post celebration! Brought to you by:

It's been a long road getting here. I know I'll never forget the friends I've made. Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, Katie Couric, Nigella Lawson, that retarded guy who sings the national anthem, women with floppy vaginas. All of them will live in my heart until I require a heart transplant, after which the only thing living in my heart will be a cold, mechanical rage. In the meantime, enjoy this short compilation of some of the most memorable moments from the past 100 posts here at Letters from Shandy.

On teamwork

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Gen. Peter Pace, chairman, Joint Chiefs of Staff
Re: Homosexuality

Dear Peter,

I apologize for the informality of my greeting, but I don't know whether to call you General or Mr. Chairman. I guess it doesn't really matter, though, since you're retiring next week, and will soon be known by the neighborhood children only as mean old Mr. Pace, the fag-hating whittler. I'm assuming you'll take up whittling.

Seriously, Pete, why go and tell the world you don't think gays should be allowed to bugger in the military because it's against "God's law"--especially since you'll be cleaning out your desk in less than a week? I know you said you thought your statement from earlier this year needed to be "clarified", but I'm sure when you said you thought gay sex was immoral, we all got the point.

Look, you can believe whatever you want. It's your own life and your own depressingly unstimulated prostate. But what I'm really concerned about is the example you're setting for your successor. Not only is your stance--and the military's stance--on butt sex asinine and backward, it's also just plain bad for business. The business of war, that is. I'm no historian, and I can't be bothered to look this up, but I'm almost certain that the famed armies of Rome not only allowed a little man-on-man action, but they encouraged it. It's about teamwork out there, Pete. Sure, I may have shared a few beers with some buddies in my platoon. Swapped stories, played a few hands of poker, raided a few Iraqis' pantie drawers. But that doesn't mean I'm willing to take a bullet for them.

The Romans knew that the only way to get soldiers to protect each other's asses on the fields of battle was to allow them to covet those very same asses. Why would I allow some insurgent to blow off my teammate's penis with an RPG if I wanted that same penis floating up my Hershey highway that evening? It's strategy we're talking about here. All due respect to your stupid religion, but if you're going to follow an imaginary god's laws, why don't you also have our country's finest make sure they keep kosher? Or give our female soldiers the week off when they're on the rag?

In a time of war, concessions have to be made. Before you retire, why not get down on your knees and stare into a fellow warrior's brown-eye? You smell that? That's the smell of victory.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, patriot

On wining and dining

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Hugo Chavez, president of Venezuela
Re: Kevin Spacey

Dear President Chavez,

Pulitzer Prize winner Laurence Shandy here. I'm surprised this is the first time I've written you, considering your prominence in the news these past few years. Who knew a celebrity could be born from such a doughy little man as yourself? And who also knew that simply rolling back your own term limits, seizing control of your country's economy, rigging a few elections, intimidating a few dissidents, dissolving freedom of the press, and using your podium at the United Nations to imply George Bush is a smelly demon would make you such a Hollywood darling?

Here's the thing, Huey. If you're going to become a real mover and shaker in the world of the entertainment elite, can't you get a few visits from stars on the A list? So far, you've met with Danny Glover, Sean Penn, and Kevin Spacey. Maybe there's a huge K-Pax following in Venezuela, but I don't see any of these names lighting up the marquees around here.

Quick, think of the last good movie you remember that starred Danny Glover. No, it's not Saw. It's not Predator 2. Lethal Weapon 4? No, sir. Alright, we'll come back to that one. Hey, remember that movie where Sean Penn looked all puckered and screamed a lot? Yes, that's every Sean Penn movie, and if you need to catch up, I think Blockbuster is running a two-for-one special on their $3.99 used DVDs. The less said about Kevin Spacey the better. If he's not hamming it up as a Gene Hackman wannabe in Superman 5: Box Office Poison, he's hamming it up in some kind of bloated Oscar bait like The Life of David Gale. "But that movie's a few years old now," you say. "Surely he's done something better since then." Really? Has he?

You need to step up your game, Chavez, or you're going to end up looking like a third-rate dictator in training. At this rate, you may as well expand your social circle by standing outside the Inside the Actors Studio set with a cashier's check for twenty dollars. I'm sure you'll at least pick up a Martin Lawrence or two.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On advice

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Sen. Hillary Clinton, presidential candidate
Re: Listening to Bush

Dear Sen. Clinton,

International house of mancakes Laurence Shandy here. I just read on CNN's Political Ticker (which, by the way, doesn't tick--or crawl, for that matter) that President Bush has been offering advice on Iraq to your campaign. Unfortunately, it looks like whoever takes over the West Wing is going to have to deal with the region in some form or fashion. No matter what, come November '08, they'll still be shedding blood like Elizabeth Taylor sheds her skin. Would that the war was happening just a bit further south (say, in Africa) where the next president could ignore it, but you can't just go changing geography unless you're imperial Britain.

Now I know your campaign is loathe to compare itself to Bush's. Let's face it, you're really campaigning against the guy--the Republican presidential field is lamer than our sitting president. And you've kind of earned a reputation as the "insider" candidate. You're a politician, Hillary--bought and sold by corporate interests, pretending you still love your spouse. You've purchased yourself a lovely two and a half bath condo on old Washington Way.

But I think you owe it to Bush to at least bend an ear. After all, your careful attention to his sage and sound advice could be seen as a little quid pro quo. The president himself has proven himself a careful observer of your husband's policies. Bush has become the master of "abusing" his power for political gain. Torture in our POW prisons? Raise the terror alert level. Backhanded, no bid government contracts? Raise the terror alert level. Sure, he's kind of a one-trick pony, but could anyone operate as smoothly as your husband? He had the stones to bomb a Sudanese medicine factory, an Afghan bunker, and (hello, happenstance) Iraq just to get his semen out of the headlines.

Respect is respect, and you at least owe it to Bush to consider his opinions, especially since you're running on your record as a White House resident yourself. And if the heat rises underneath you--if the questions get a little too tough--take a cue from both your husband and the Bush family. Smile, nod, and deny everything.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On TCB

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, president of Iran
Re: Silencing voices

Dear Moody,

Welcome to America! I know you haven't enjoyed the most cordial welcome, but I just want you to know you're always welcome at my New York apartment. I hope you still remember the address. It's been hard to find anyone in the states with your special combination of shortness and swarthiness. How I've longed to feel the erotic tickle of beard whiskers on my solar plexus during a 69.

Look, I know some people have quite a problem with you. Just because you constantly call for the destruction of the United States and Israel, you belong to an apocalyptic Islamic sect, and your country secretly runs weapons to Iraqi insurgents, the elite in this country see you as some kind of enemy. You can ask to lay wreaths at Ground Zero all you want, Moody, but there's no changing anyone's attitude about you.

However, I was inspired by the recent revelation that your government has hacked into and shut down journalistic websites critical of you in your own country. Kudos on your staff's technical acumen. And here I thought all they could do was covertly enrich uranium. But since the Internet is a global series of tubes, don't you think your hacking team could black out some of the bad press over here as well? Maybe you won't change anyone's mind--maybe it won't stop a wayward egg from landing on the shoulder of your members only jacket during a speaking engagement--but it would at least cut down on your bad press. I'm sure security can't be that tight at the Drudge Report or Fox News. Hell, I just read all of Shepard Smith's e-mail last night. Did you know that guy's password is "password"? And that he took Rita Cosby's anal virginity?

Speaking of anal virginity, I'll leave the key to my place under the Teddy Roosevelt statue. Maybe tonight we can get down to a little rough riding of our own.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, dutiful host

On sex education

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Gov. Mike Huckabee, presidential candidate
Re: Condoms

Dear Huck,

In a recent interview with CNN, you balked at the idea of handing out U.S. taxpayer dollars all willy nilly to buy condoms for AIDS-stricken Africans. After all, as you correctly point out, condoms aren't 100% effective in preventing the transmission of HIV/AIDS, so it's best that we just educate Africans as to that fact and hold off on giving them false hope with a product that only can only prevent the transmission of STDs 97% of the time.

Also, and I think you'll back me up on this, sex just doesn't feel right with a condom. And isn't that really the important issue here. Let's face it, AIDS isn't all that bad in Africa. AIDS drugs there are almost the cheapest in the world--about four dollars. I'm sure they can scrounge up four dollars. And if not, I hear the president of South Africa has discovered an entirely dietary cure for AIDS. How about that? So in addition to telling the Africans that they still have a 3% chance of death even with a condom, don't you think we should also throw in something about how much nicer it is to make love to your wife or a neighbor's unwilling daughter without a latex sheath around your willy? Sex with a condom is like eating with a mosquito net over your mouth.

Kudos on recommending the use of mosquito nets in Africa to prevent malaria, by the way. I don't think anyone can argue with their 92% effectiveness rate at keeping those pesky disease-carriers off our precious skin.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On mixed signals

From: Laurence Shandy
To: The Nation of Islam
Re: Fashion

Dear Nation of Islam,

Just got back from the rally in Jena, Louisiana, and I need to sleep. But I have to say that your little bow ties are at once the cutest and the most intimidating things I've ever seen. I don't know whether you're going to pop me a bag of popcorn or strangle me alive, but I know I like them. Keep up the good fashion.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman


REPONSE
From: The Nation of Islam
To: Laurence Shandy
Re: Fashion

Greetings and thank you for your fashion compliment.

Regards,
NOI.org Staff