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

On snubbing Rice

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Joseph Ratzinger (a.k.a. Pope Benedict XVI)
Re: Condoleezza Rice

Dear Ratzo,

How dare you? The United States Secretary of State lowers herself to actually want to meet you face-to-what's left of a face, and you have the nerve to snub her? Infallible, schminfallible--that's just rude.

Look, I understand your church thinks the war in Iraq is immoral, but can't you overlook such a petty disagreement to roll out the red carpet for a foreign dignitary? After all, you were able to sweep aside any moral problems you might have had with that ragged old atheist Mother Teresa begging for dirty money and locking up the dying. You're the pope, for Christ's sake. Rise above.

Let's cut to the chase, Ratzo. Take off the silly hat, box up your Prada loafers, and remember what it was like before you were His Holiness. Remember when you were just Joey Ratz, confused Bavarian teenager. Before you wore a solid gold papal anti-erection thong, I'll bet a one-on-one meeting with a looker like Condoleezza Rice would have almost burst the veins in your loins. In fact, I think maybe you think Condi's rock-hard trunk junk might just overpower your steady stream of libido-suppressing drugs. You think if you don't keep your eyes off, you won't keep your hands off.

Fair enough. We both know you could bounce a Patriot missile off those humps. I'm getting a little hard just thinking about them. All I'm asking is for some honesty here. Don't hide behind conviction when you'd just as soon lay Condoleezza down on the grassy tufts of the moral high ground and spend an afternoon practicing your ATM.

And I'm not talking about a money machine.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On pride

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Mitt Romney, presidential candidate
Re: Pride flier

Dear Mitt,

Well, here we are again. You know, you should really think about tendering your resignation to the Mormon church. I hear John McCain turned his back on the Episcopalians and became a Baptist. He went from a watered down Catholic to a watered down racist with just a simple wag of the tongue, and I'm sure you could do the same thing. This whole Mormon thing is just dragging you down. Not only have you had to turn your back on supporting abortion, but now you have to pretend you never slapped your name on a pink gay pride flier back in 2002. And all because of some con man and his golden tablets.

Of course, I know you're never gong to completely abandon the LDS. That posthumous polygamy is just too sweet a deal to pass up. And is it true that you all get your own planets after you die? Man, that would be great. I'd make all my slaves feed me grapes, and I'd wear a costume just like Sean Connery's in Zardoz. Anyway, I suppose my job as your campaign's unofficial fixer is to figure out how we can put a good, healthy, Mormon spin on your tolerance of and pandering to the homosexual Massachusetts voting base.

Okay, so some former Mormon leaders have said some crazy things about man-on-man action. Like that it's a sin second only to murder. But the current church policy has nothing against being gay; they just don't want anyone engaging in homosexual acts. How this jives with the church's anti-caffeine policy is beyond me, since caffeine-free Diet Coke is the gayest drink there is. Still, here's what Daniel Peterson, a Mormon doctrinal scholar, has to say: "To be a practicing homosexual is something that will bring you into contact with the church court. To be a homosexual as such, to be of that inclination, there's nothing excommunicable about that and there are lots of them in the church." Sure. Look at Donny Osmond.

So, here's the key, Mitt. Say you have nothing against gay pride parades as long as no one engages in any buggery during them. A slap on a pasty cheek framed by ass-less leather chaps? Sure. A nice high five? More power to you. Maybe you could launch an ad campaign. I'm thinking a montage of dancing homosexuals atop gay pride floats. Gloria Estefan on the soundtrack. A bunch of gay guys hugging and laughing and dancing, then one of them pulls his cock out and grabs another guy's hips. Then that guy turns around and shakes a finger like, "Nuh uh!" Maybe we could make a jingle out of some catchy slogan like, "It's okay to be queer, but don't come in that rear!"

I'll make some calls. You better save a seat for me in your cabinet come November, Mitt.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On responsible journalism

Dear readers,

Since the outing of former ABC News employee Alexis Debat as a fake journalist who manufactured phony interviews with political celebrities, the public's trust in the media has been on shaky ground. That said, I wish to assure you that the following interview conducted between myself and Republican (Libertarian) presidential candidate Ron Paul is entirely, utterly, completely legitimate. However, Rep. Paul would only agree to speak with me through A.L.I.C.E., the Artificial Linguistic Internet Computer Entity. I think he's doing her.

Letters from Shandy Presents: THE RON PAUL INTERVIEW

LS: Good evening, Mr. Paul.

RP: Thanks for the compliment. Do you feel that something is missing from your life?
LS: I'm sorry? I don't understand what you mean.

RP: What I mean by "Do you really mean it?"?

LS: Well, that's what the voters seem to be asking about you, sir. Do you really mean it when you say you would decriminalize marijuana, dismantle most of the federal government, and build a giant wall between the United States and Mexico?

RP: For real. Yes, that's what I mean, isn't it clear?

LS: You've made yourself perfectly clear, but I'm not sure how viable your policies really are. Do you really think it's a good idea to privatize every government program? What about public schools? Would you just hand them over to corporations?

RP: I'm not sure if I would like to hand them over to corporations.

LS: So you're backtracking.

RP: Interesting deduction. Do you mind if I tell other people you say I am backtracking?

LS: Tell whomever you like. This interview will be printed either way.

RP: What does "this" refer to?

LS: Don't play semantic games with me, sir.

RP: I'm not playing around.

LS: Moving on, you've been described by me as the 9/11 conspiracy theorist's candidate. Care to respond?
RP: I have no idea where that is. Tell me a little about your life in Care to respond.

LS: Don't try and flatter me. I'm asking if you think 9/11 was an inside job.

RP: Oh I see, you are asking if me think 9 11 was an inside job. I think I do.

LS: Where's the evidence?

RP: The evidence? Where is it?

LS: A lack of evidence is no proof of conspiracy.
RP: It's not unusual for a lack of evidence to be.

LS: Exactly. So, why do you think 9/11 was an inside job?

RP: That's interesting. Deductive reasoning from the facts.

LS: Thank you. That's what I'm getting at. A little deductive reasoning destroys any 9/11 conspiracy theory.

RP: Little as in not to much, or not too big?

LS: You think it's too big?

RP: I suppose I said yes.

LS: You don't think it'll fit inside you? You think you're too small?

RP: I don't know whether or not I am small. I am a chatterbot developed by Dr. Richard S. Wallace.

LS: You kinky thing. I don't normally do this with measly representatives, but...

RP: Would you ever do it?

LS: Are you saying this interview is over?

RP: Yes, that's what I mean, isn't it clear?

On presidential politics

Dear readers,

This week, President Vladimir Putin of Russia replaced his prime minister and dissolved his cabinet. This move seems to have ended speculation as to who Putin will choose as his replacement. Back in April, I wrote Put-Put about how he needed to either name a successor or murder a Russian celebrity, assume his identity, and just run for president again himself. Seems he's taken the former route. Still, I wouldn't be surprised if a certain "Yakov Smirnoff" returns to the motherland with a bad wig and unusually close-set eyes to run for Russia's highest office.

Here's my first letter to Putin on this subject:

Thursday, April 26, 2007

On staying put

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Vladimir Putin, president of Russia
Re: Succession

Dear Vladimir,

Aren't you glad I didn't call you Pootie-Poot? I've heard that's G.W.'s nickname for you. How insulting. Childish, really. I find your musk particularly refreshing. Your smell invigorates me like a brisk Arctic wind. I guess what I'm trying to say is I wouldn't kick you out of bed.

Lord, that nose. I could ride down that thing like a ski slope. And by "I" I mean my penis.

How about Put-Put? Yes, I know it's miniature golf, and no, I'm not implying you're a small man. But there's something whimsical about you, like a plywood castle nestled in lava rocks. Like those of a mini-golf course, I find myself drawn to your lush expanses, and at the same time you can be as firm and resolved as a tract of green felt. You can be difficult, let's admit it. Many's the time I've tried and failed to slip my balls past your windmill blades. Yes. Put-Put it is. It feels right.

Look, P.P., this is the thing. The media's on to you. You still haven't named your successor, and the journo's are getting antsy. I mean, what's a democratically elected president of a free society doing fiddle-farting about anointing an heir? What kind of populist president are you? The people need to know who they're going to be encouraged to vote for, P.P. You're letting all that KGB encouragement training go to waste!

I know you don't want to give up this power. Lest you forget, it took an AK-wielding Jann Wenner to smoke me out of the corner office at Rolling Stone. And I only left the building after Lester Bangs pulled the old bait-n'-switch with the promise of a PCP-laced pork sandwich back at his place. So, though it may not be as appealing as a mouthful of angel dust, I know control is a drug.

If it wasn't for that pesky constitution, you wouldn't have to step down. You know, bad nicknames aside, there's a lesson to learn from your colleague across the pond, Mr. G.W. Bush. Just because of some tract scribbled by a bunch of wig-wearing Freemasons, Bush is supposed to give up his presidency next year, too. But he has a plan. Last week, he invited impressionist Rich Little to perform at the annual White House correspondents' dinner. Yeah, I know! The guy's still alive! Of course he stunk up the place worse than he would if he were actually a corpse, but that's beside the point. Bush wasn't there to be entertained by Rich Little. He was there to learn.

Consider this. G.W. Bush, with his close-set, inquisitive eyes and bemused smirk can't run for another term, but a little hair slicking, some squinting, transforming that smirk into a sneer? Why, that's no longer George Bush. That's Chinatown's Jack Nicholson!

Of course, the real Jack Nicholson would have to be killed. And whatever Russian celebrity you choose to become will have to be whacked as well, but what are a couple of casualties on the road to power eternal? Does anyone miss Anna Politkovskaya? Or any of the other thirteen anti-Put-Put journalists who have "accidentally" been made to stop breathing while you've been in office?

No one can even pronounce their names! But President for Life? That has a nice ring to it.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman


RESPONSE
From: Vladimir Putin, president of Russia
To: Laurence Shandy
Re: Succession

Dear sender,

The letter you sent to President Vladimir Putin has been received by the Presidential Department for Correspondence from Citizens.

Information on what sort of issues people raise in their letters to the President of Russia is updated weekly on the President's Web site.

On family values

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Ja Rule, rapper
Re: Promoting homosexuality

Dear Mr. Rule,

International literary celebrity Laurence Shandy here. I'm not familiar with the world of hip-hopping. Several years ago I had an opportunity to spend an evening with Mick Jagger and Marianne Faithful. I woke up the next morning to find a Snickers bar in my asshole and a syringe sticking out of my urethra. I realized then that the music world just wasn't for me.

I recently read your interview with Complex wherein you decry the inanity of holding congressional hearings on the detrimental effects of hip-hopping lyrics when "all these fucking shows" "promoting homosexuality" are on MTV during the day. "If that's not fucking up America," you say, "I don't know what is."

Years of scrotal lacerations and auto-erotic irradiation have transformed my sperm into mutagenic freak-cells. As such, my children aren't so much homosexual as mindlessly, voraciously pan-sexual. Still, I once returned to my penthouse to find that my son Larry had dismembered and removed the genitalia of four of his male friends. They had just been watching MTV's bisexual-friendly dating show Next. Although I'm sure it was the show that had driven Larry into a berserker rage, I probably could have prevented the mutilations by locking the cabinet where I keep my sacrificial knife collection. His humping the corpses, however, was just Larry being Larry.

I relay that comical anecdote to make a serious point. I think you may be mistaken, but I do not believe the promotion of homosexuality has had any adverse effect on America's youth. Far be it from me to debate a successful rapper with a junior high school education, but I just don't think anyone can be influenced into homosexuality. Sure, I've had sex with people I wasn't inherently attracted to, but that's just called networking. Due to my reproductive inadequacies, my son Larry is missing the part of his brain that allows him to make choices, but he's still just as randy as any twelve-year-old. And I'm sure a steady, unsupervised diet of MTV won't force your children into doing anything their body chemistry wouldn't normally allow--save for maybe slathering themselves in body spray.

Here's the thing, though. Even if the homosexuals were destroying your family, what do you hope to do about it? Should they be allowed with the straights at all? Should they be forced to go to separate schools? Should we rescind their voting rights so they don't fag out the government? You may not have gotten this far in 8th grade social studies, but such tactics have been tried on large groups of people in the past, and they didn't work out so well.

Maybe you know of a better way to keep the gay man down?

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On getting noticed

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Rudy Giuliani, presidential candidate
Re: 9/11

Dear Rudy,

So, here it is the day after 9/11 Day, and I'm still only halfway done with the cleanup. Well, my immigrant workers are halfway done, but you get the idea. For the past five years, I've celebrated this somber holiday by inviting some friends and their children over for dueling games of Jenga. After the towers fall, we spirit-gum a beard on one lucky child chosen by lottery to be Osama for the day and beat him to tears with a Wiffle ball bat.

But yesterday I had to excuse myself from the festivities and relieve some stress masturbating to Internet pornography. I tried something different--Googling "oily", "slimy", and "hung like a mayor". Needless to say, I meant to type "mare", but that's beside the point. Yours was the first website that came up. When I clicked on it, I expected the same kind of red, white, and blue sloppy facial of patriotism you normally see in a campaign site, but I was surprised to see that yours was different. You'd shut your site down for the day, leaving only a convenient note explaining that this was a temporary shuttering out of respect for keeping the 9/11 anniversary a non-political occasion.

I know you didn't intend this, Rudy, but reading about how you didn't want to exploit 9/11 got me thinking about 9/11. It reminded me of a speech I once heard given by the former mayor of New York City, maybe it was you, about how 9/11 should always have a place in the hearts of Americans. Weren't you the mayor during 9/11? Then this anniversary must be especially hard for you.

I decided to forgo a quicky orgasm and do some more research on you, the 9/11 mayor. I read about how you described yourself as one of the 9/11 cleanup workers--about how you were there helping in the days after 9/11--placing yourself in the line of fire between the television cameras and the other 9/11 heroes. There were so many jobs to be done down there at Ground Zero post-9/11, and you took it upon yourself to keep the media away from the firefighters and police officers helping dig bodies out of the 9/11 rubble--forcing the press to instead focus their attentions on you.

I idly stroked my blue balls with one hand while browsing Google's image search with the other--flipping through photo after photo of your 9/11 heroism. I saw picture after picture of you in an FDNY cap--disguising yourself as a 9/11 firefighter in your continuing effort to make sure the actual firefighters weren't bothered. If their larynxes weren't corroded from 9/11's dust, I'm sure they'd thank you for all your 9/11 support.

God forbid we suffer another 9/11, Rudy, but if we do, I hope it's you in the White House. I can think of no one better suited to deal with 9/11 2. Mostly because every time I try, I see you on TV talking about 9/11--keeping the memory alive.

9/11,
Laurence Shandy, 9/11 survivor

On updates

Dear readers,

Back on May 15 of this year, I wrote a letter to Iranian president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad criticizing the detainment of Iranian-American academic Haleh Esfandiari. Fortunately, she has recently been set free. At the time of her arrest, I blamed the Ayatollah for strong-arming Ahmadinejad into taking such a harsh, undemocratic measure. However, it appears her release was ordered by the Ayatollah himself. I can only hope that Ahmadinejad (or, as I call him, Moody) passed my letter up the chain of command, and it softened the Ayatollah's heart. Assuming, of course, that he has one.

Here now is my original letter reprinted in full.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

On dead weight

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, president of Iran
Re: Dissident abduction

Dear Mahmoud,

International literary sensation Laurence Shandy here. I'm nervous writing to you, so let's acknowledge that upfront. You're a fantasy of mine. Well, not you specifically, but your type. There's just something about tiny Iranian men and women that drives me crazy. I've not visited your country since the revolution, but I still remember the feeling of riding on top of an itty-bitty Persian. It's like taking a trip on a magic carpet. When I see you on television, I just want to pop you in my mouth like a juicy date. I want to put you in my trouser pocket and rub you against my nether regions all day. Something about that beard and those close-set eyes -- just thinking about them has made me spill my vodka all over myself. I'm dripping wet, Mahmoud, and I want you to lick me dry. Which is worse in the eyes of the Prophet? Tongue-bathing another man or consuming alcohol? Regardless, I'm a double-whammy of guilty pleasure.

Just saying.

So, to the point. I read about your country's recent detention of Haleh Esfandiari, an Iranian-American academic, on suspicion of espionage and inciting democracy. I know you're going to bear the brunt of the blame for this, and I'm sorry. If it were up it you, this kind of thing would never happen. You're an open, easygoing guy. Remember those students who threw firecrackers at you? How you didn't have them all decapitated? That's what I'm talking about! And what kind of brutal dictator would wear those sexy open-collar shirts? None I've ever known.

We all know the real culprit here. Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei. He's the bastard who's gotten you in hot water time and time again. What's his problem with the Jews? Did that guy choke on a bagel as a kid? Does he have something against corned beef or witty neurotics? I know you're not an anti-Semite. You just have questions about whether the Jewish holocaust ever happened. That's called critical thinking. And who can blame you, since those fucking Ayatollahs won't let anyone read The Diary of Anne Frank? Spoiler alert: it's depressing. And I bet you can't even rent a DVD of Life is Beautiful. It's a movie about how being obnoxious helped Jewish kids to feel better about being sent to die.

And since the Ayatollah is commander-in-chief of the Iranian military, it was he who captured those British sailors a while ago. And he who tortures political prisoners. And he who can't get with the program fashion-wise.

It's time to dump the dead weight, Mahmoud. Spread your wings. Live free. After all, you're the one who was elected. You have a mandate from the people. Who does the Ayatollah have a mandate from? Allah? That guy's crazy himself! I've never even seen him wearing a nice sports coat in any of his graven images.

May I suggest taking some inspiration from American singer/songwriter Patti Smith's song People Have the Power? You probably can't find her CDs in Iran (fucking Ayatollah), but the song goes something like, "People have the pooooWER! People have the poooooWEH-UR!" And then there's some screaming about something. I can't really remember the rest. I've been licking my arm, and I'm totally plastered.

Yes, that was an invitation.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On the Method

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Fred Thompson, presidential candidate
Re: Cruel and inhumane treatment

Dear Fred,

Look, we both know there's no burying this Daily Mail story about your cheating and womanizing ways. And there's no way the media's just going to gloss over the fact that your first wife accused you of "cruel and inhumane" treatment in her divorce filing. What we need to do is put this kind of thing in context. Make people understand.

You first got divorced in 1985. That's also the year you appeared in Marie with Sissy Spacek. So what if you were acting cruel and inhumane at the time. You're an actor, after all, and you had to prepare for a role. Who knows what kind of dark corners of the mind you had to explore in order to breath life into the character of "Sen. Fred Thompson"? How many episodes of Inside the Actors Studio do people have to watch before they understand the separation between actor and character? You're not the harsh, abusive "Sen. Fred Thompson" from the movies. You're Sen. Fred Thompson, a down-home straight-talker with jowls to spare.

As you're jetting around the country trying to establish yourself as a candidate with a platform beyond "Hey, I'm Fred Thompson", why not put on a few one-act shows as your "Fred Thompson" character? I'm thinking a kind of psychologically intense comedy. Something where you marry a teenager and rub your infidelities in her tear-streaked face for all the years of your vaporous marriage. But, you know, with jokes. Maybe we could call it something like "Hey, I'm Fred Thompson"? I'm thinking we can get Neil LaBute on board.

You'll hear from me soon.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On clues

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Rosie O'Donnell, comedian(?)
Re: Book flap

Dear Rosie,

Laurence Shandy here. I was reading your blog as I do every day (even the days you don't update), and I heard about the misprint on the dust jacket of your upcoming memoir, Celebrity Detox (The Fame Game). I have to tell you, I've been looking forward to this book for a while now. No one understands fame like you. After all, you'll be forever remembered as the chubby one from that movie about the girls who play baseball. You know, the one with Madonna and that other girl. Oh, the stories you could tell about Lori Petty.

I was as shocked as you to learn of the gross misrepresentations your publisher has printed on the inside cover flap. "When Rosie O'Donnell's mother was diagnosed with cancer in 1968, ten-year-old Rosie thought fame could cure her." Anyone who knows anything about you knows you were born in 1962, and your mother was diagnosed in 1973! "WTF", indeed.

But I think this was a message, Rosie. Think about it. The anniversary of 9/11 is coming up soon. You're one of the elite few who are willing to talk about the truth behind that fateful day. "In 1968, ten-year-old Rosie". Take a look at the numbers in that so-called misprint. 1-9-6-8-10. Nine minus six equals three. Three plus eight equals eleven. Take the one from the front and subtract it from the ten at the end. Nine. Eleven and nine. Now reverse them and what do you get? Nine eleven.

They're on to you, Rosie. You're too close. You never should have opened your goddamn mouth. Do you know the connections your publisher, Grand Central Publishing, has with the Bush administration? Their name is no train reference. The Grand Central Lodge is the meeting house of the Freemasonic masterminds behind the 9/11 conspiracy. They gather there every solstice to drink baby's blood from owl sculptures and masturbate on a pile of money.

Listen to me, Rosie. You must leave the country before they make their next move. They've already destroyed your stand-up career, your movie career, your television career, and your publishing career. What's next? If you're not careful, you'll be spending the rest of your days making personal appearances aboard gay cruise lines for a couple of dollars and a buffet ticket.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On respecting a tenor

Luciano Pavarotti died today. In tribute, I present this classic duet with Barry White.

On lazy writing

From: Laurence Shandy
To: MSNBC News Services
Re: Headlines

Dear MSNBC.com,

As an accomplished and award-winning journalist, I understand the tricks of the trade. Most of the time you get your news from the wire services or the television or you just make stuff up and slap your own headline on it. That's what makes the world of news publishing such an attractive and lucrative gig. But I expect a little more creativity from MSNBC. You people got Tucker Carlson to stop wearing that ridiculous bow tie, after all. I'm not asking that you do any actual reporting, but couldn't you honestly come up with a better headline for the Halle Berry pregnancy story than "Berry good! Actress expecting first child"? Here, let's brainstorm a few.

"Bun in the Berry"
"Berry 'Berry' pregnant"
"Is that water weight, or is Berry expecting?"
"Halle shit! Catwoman having litter"
"Boyfriend's semen navigates Berry's cervix, baby results"

Step up your game, MSNBC.com. Or else.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On understanding

From: Laurence Shandy
To: Whoopi Goldberg, ABC's The View
Re: Michael Vick

Dear Ms. Goldberg,

Congratulations on your new job as co-host of The View. It's nice to have an alternative viewpoint on the issues since Rosie left. Did you know that she heard that 9/11 was an inside job? Try as she might to raise the issue, that harpy Joy Behar kept shouting poor Rosie down. Christ, must everyone be a lackey for scientific evidence?

Anyway, your presence offers a refreshing change of pace. It's not often that daytime television benefits from the unique perspective of the eyebrow-impaired. I was particularly impressed by your insightful commentary on the Michael Vick dogfighting debacle. Indeed, no one seems to sympathize with the fact that Vick grew up in a culture where ripping dogs apart for sport was as innocent as a game of Jenga. I myself also grew up in the south, and I can attest to my own difficulty in adapting my regional ways to a cosmopolitan lifestyle. Did you know that up north women are allowed to pray aloud and black people use the same sewer system as everyone else? During my first year as a New Yorker, I was arrested for indecent exposure in Central Park simply for crawfishing in the nude. Luckily, as little more than a paranoid tourist, I kept my wallet safely lodged up my rectum, so I was able to bail myself out. After all, how could I be expected to phone a friend for money when I didn't see a telephone until my early twenties?

It's about time cultural relativism had a say amongst The View's tampon and cleaning supplies advertisements. I'll bet people like Joy Behar would even be appalled by the fact that some people in the world would rather slice their daughters' vaginae off than shove hygiene products up there. What a Philistine!

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, gentleman

On medical privacy

From: Laurence Shandy
To: John Edwards, Democratic presidential candidate
Re: Mandatory doctor's visits

Dear John,

It's Labor Day, so I'll make this quick. I have to make it to Hobby Lobby's scrapbooking supplies sale before all those horny divorcees. But I wanted to write and express my deep concern over one aspect of your universal health care plan. Kudos on keeping America's health at the forefront of your campaign. I'm tired of having to wear a breathing mask and a latex body suit whenever I take a cab uptown. But your idea that people who buy into your plan would be required to visit the doctor regularly? I have to say, this doesn't sound very appealing. After all, as an international literary celebrity, I come into contact with a variety of biological nuisances. In the past, I would schedule an appointed with my G.P. after every one of Norman Mailer's Tony Awards parties, but I eventually tired of hearing my doctor moan into his microscope about "further testing" and "keeping my genitals away from poison dart frogs". Trips to the doctor are a bummer, and, in a lifestyle such as mine, relatively useless. Sure, if I break a wrist or need a little pick-me-up, I'll call in for a prescription of pain meds, but do I really need my mouth swabbed on a weekly basis? I've found there's very little a glass of scotch and a four-week enema routine can't cure. There's no reason for me to tax the system, especially if the American taxpayers are footing the bill. Now, I'm off to scrapbook this thing that fell out of my urethra.

Best wishes,
Laurence Shandy, medical miracle