Hate mail, Vol. II (Valentine's Day edition)

Let's celebrate Valentine's Day together, albeit one day late. As a cynical young lass, I was never much one for the holiday. The candy, to be sure, was exquisite (barring the year in grade school where I gorged myself on chocolate a bit too enthusiastically, and spent the afternoon throwing up....fun stuff), but it all seemed a bit commercial and, well, if you need a holiday to remind you why you care about someone, isn't it time to reevaluate the relationship?

As I grew older, I changed my position on the matter and bought into the Valentine's Day notion wholeheartedly. I am pleased to say that I am back to my original position. Now, today's feature isn't hate mail per se - more like "hate diatribe" - but the invective was so....inspired....that it warranted WTH mention. After all, nothing says "I love you" like comparing someone to R2-D2 (and it ain't because I'm small and cute, I'm afraid). To wit:

You are a robot.
A robot with no heart.
A robot that destroys other people.
You're like a robot with bombs of destruction. (huh?)
A nuclear-armed robot. (HUH?)
You're an insane robot.
A robot with a tape recorder for a heart. (???!!!)
Robots have no feelings, so you invent them.

I don't think my laughter, crescendoing to open derision by the end of this little chat, did much to disprove this misguided individual's critique of Yours Truly, but....seriously? A robot? A nuclear armed robot???

It kind of reminds me of the phrase used by the mother of a high school ex to describe me after breaking up with her wittle baybe:

She's just a devil who walks around in cute shoes breaking men's hearts.

Now, I wasn't aware that robots, devils or no, were capable of wearing shoes. But then, the woman who uttered that particular witticism was none too mentally stable herself - after the breakup, she actually doused a hat I'd left at their house in lighter fluid and burned it. Normal behavior? Um, not so much.

I think the expression of Fearless Leader Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin best sums up Valentine's Day for me. Behind his beady little eyes, I just know he's thinking..."what the hella?"

Made in China

This tickled my funny bone. I hope you will be as amused. Having spent a number of my young and impressionable years growing up in Shanghai, China (as an expatriate - though I still get the inevitable, "but, you don't look Chinese!" even after explaining this fact to some of my dumber American countrymen and women), I can attest that these little pedagogic wonders are well within the realm of possibility. No narration necessary - enjoy for yourself.

I will add, however - puzzling signs/names/translations were a daily occurrence in China. One of the PRC's big initiatives in preparation for the 2008 Beijing Olympic games was to standardize translation so that the capital of the world's most populous country didn't seem as backwoods as its English language signs would indicate. Although this may benefit tourists and athletes come August, it made me extremely sad. "Chinglish" is exquisite, an anthropological delight that I hope won't be shunted to the wayside in the name of, oh, say, grammatical correctness. (What next? Political correctness?)

Although many of my China experiences will be subjects of future WTH accounts (indeed, my entire experience there was one long, dreamy WTH adventure), I will leave you to ponder the name of the road that I lived on for awhile while over there. Long Dong Road (Long Dong Lu in Zhong-wen.) Oh boy.

Lions and tigers and amoebas, oh my!

When I read this article, the first words out of my mouth were, quite literally, "what the hella?" I can't make up a headline as good as the one featured in this article - and I quote: "Six Die from Brain Eating Amoeba After Swimming".

Full stop. Brain eating amoeba? Huh? Huh?

Apparently these wee little beasties are partial to warm climates - maybe the only thing I can be thankful for as I look out my window and see snow, snow, and more snow (and what's the forecast for the night? Take a guess...)

Truth is indeed stranger than fiction.

Three little words

OK, usually I try to avoid the realm of the overtly political on WTH, because I respect that my readers have their own views, and because God knows we already hear enough about politics in an election year.

BUT, this is too funny not to share, and whatever your political affiliation, I hope you'll appreciate the artistry. To really get the joke, you'll have to have seen the much-discussed tribute to my man Barack that's making its way across the internet and into mainstream media outlets. Sweet stuff - but that's neither here nor there for the purposes of today's snark.

No, no. Instead, I direct your attention to the enterprising individuals who decided that it wasn't fair to create such a piece of work only for a Dem, and decided to pay tribute to Mr. McCain's eloquence and political beliefs, too. The results are....well, you can see for yourself.

The Lord works in mysterious (and billable) ways

After catching up on a month's worth of sleep (ok, extremely wishful thinking) following Super Toozday...I thought it would be apropos to share a few divine tidbits of WTH grandeur. Both were brought to my attention by faithful (and witty!) readers - the first involves a truly, er, revelatory moment at the polls.

Now, it's election time, and candidates love to talk about inspiring people, leading them, answering their prayers - much like the claims Jesus (or those who profess to speak for Him) seems to make, in fact! But a lovely fellow at the polls took the parallel a little too seriously. The state in question is a caucus state, not a primary - you have to actually stand up and represent your candidate, not just scribble down a name on a piece of paper or punch the appropriate bubble and waltz away. So, the people who turn out in support of their candidates tend to be pretty committed. Either that, or they need to be committed.

Case in point - the narrator of this tale was at the Republican caucus trying to drum up favour for her candidate. A young man, probably in his mid-20's, shows up. He has a Southern drawl that seems oddly out of place in a decidedly Northern state. As the caucus is convened, he proceeds to talk about Jesus. Now, this is the Republican party, and many of its biggest fans (Huckabee, anyone?) like to talk about Jesus - so at first, it wasn't so out-of-place. But the rambling continued, and the chap seemed unable to articulate which candidate he supported. Finally, when it was time to speak for your candidate, he made his case - for Jesus. And proceeded to vote. For Jesus.

How exactly does that appear on the ballot, anyway? Jesus H. Christ? Jesus, Lord Emmanuel? Son of God? I was having enough trouble at my voting spot getting people to spell Obama, not Osama. WTH!

Our second story of the day also concerns Our Lord and Saviour, and was brought to my attention by an alert reader. Some enterprising folks in Georgia have created a thriving business designed to, well, help you see Jesus.

http://iseejesus.com

Some poking around revealed that the site itself is hoax (see Legals at the bottom of the page), but the idea of such a business and its attendant snark is certainly good for a laugh! Now excuse me while I go nibble on some toast that bears an image of the Virgin Mary's face....mmm, mmm, salvation never tasted so good.

The uses of an English major, revisited

A good friend of mine, who happens to be a high school teacher, brought this gem to my attention. Yet another case to be made for the uses of an English major? You be the judge...

Every year, English teachers from across the USA can submit their
collections of actual analogies, metaphors and similes found in high
school essays. These excerpts are published each year to the amusement of teachers across the country.

1. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides
gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

2. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

3. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.

That one is priceless. So painfully earnest and...what the hella.

4. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli, and he was room
temperature Canadian beef.

5. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes
just before it throws up.

Wow. I hope someone describes me someday in such laudatory terms ... NOT.

6. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

Well said, friend. Art imitates life.

7. He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.

Which is heavier, a pound of iron or a pound of feathers?

8. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.

LOVE the analogy!! Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?

9. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a
bowling ball wouldn't.

10. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled
with vegetable soup.

11. From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m.instead of 7:30.

A small part of me is embarrassed to admit that I kind of like that one.

12. Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.

H-O-T-T

13. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.

Say it with me - what the hella?

14. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

Shit, I thought I had put the SATs in my past!

15. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.

16. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

WTH?

17. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the
East River.

18. Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only
one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.

19. Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

20. The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil,
this plan just might work.

21. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.

Ya don't say...!

22. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

Paging Paul McCartney's ex-wife: here's the new cause of your life's work...ducks that are land mine casualties.

23. The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

24. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.

This is precisely why I grew up overseas.

25. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.

Oh, l'amour!

Aha! Uses for an English major

After a thrilling whirlwind weekend that included appearing on tv three times in one night, the defeat of the Patriots' evil empire by Mini-Manning & co., and (gasp) getting to meet Barack Obama, I have to turn to an issue that often arises when someone asks about my education. "You dropped out of Wharton to become an English major?" This is the inevitable question, always followed by blank looks and disbelief.

Yes, yes I did. But - in a rare coup for English majors everywhere - we have found a news item that thoroughly illustrates the advantage of have a student of literature on staff at all times. Preventing moral outrage everywhere - see, we have our uses too!

Apparently the London shopping chain Woolworths failed to follow my sage advice. Now they're amid a PR fiasco, after scads of angry (and presumably more literate mothers) have protested the stores' sale of a bed marketed to young girls - a bed with the unfortunate retail name "Lolita".

I'm hardly an advocate for celibacy or the strict regulation of morals, but branding a bed geared to prepubescent girls with the moniker of the world's most famous promiscuous child seems like a really poor marketing decision... Although I'm always glad to hear a literary shout-out in unexpected places, I'm not sure this is what Nabokov had in mind. More disturbing than the initial branding snafu, however, is the utter ignorance displayed by the chain's management.

"What seems to have happened is that the staff...had never heard of Lolita, and to be honest, no one else here had either."

Hello, folks, did you not take high school English? I mean, Christ, they've even made movies of the famous tale (including one starring a particularly yummy Jeremy Irons...) "Lolita" is as much a part of the international zeitgeist as it is a literary work. Seriously, people. Not having read it is one thing - but to never have heard of the book or even the name before? What planet have you been on?

All I can say is that karma's a bitch. For those of you who fell asleep during lit class or opted for the Cliff Notes version of life....I hope you're caught in just such a peccadillo someday! At very least, be sure you have someone like me lying around...someone who will mock you incessantly but will ensure no such unfortunate branding initiatives is ever allowed to see the light of day.

I always knew debt-collection was a shitty business, but...

Okay - I am VERY loopy right now, having not slept for days while working tirelessly for a certain political campaign - and anyone who has seen me in the last 24 hours can attest to the fact that I am running into things and generally acting like a drunk (for the moment, I'm not) .... but I hope you find this as funny as I do.

I really want to get a letter from a creditor just like this one.
Nothing says "pay me, please" like comparing the debtor to a piece of poo!

(And yes, I understand that you can theoretically sign up for an account under any name. But the dude in question has signed an affidavit saying he/she used their real name and not, erm, "Shit Face" as their moniker.)

I don't think I need to make a case for why this gem belongs on WTH!!!
And now, back to the good fight. No rest for the wicked, at least until after Super Tuesday!

I hope you are slowly and painfully devoured by puppies and kittens

**ATTENTION Dear Readers. It has been brought to my attention that - mercifully - the website described below is a hoax. Well, thank Camus for that. I am going to leave this commentary up, though, for 2 reasons. First, check out any animal shelter/Craigslist post/urban alleyway and you will find ample proof that plenty of people have the mindset captured in this site - that pets are disposable commodities that can be abandoned when they're no longer "cute" or convenient. The second reason I'm leaving the link to this site up is that its intent was to generate both visibility and debate surrounding this issue, and this is a fantastic way to do so.**

It takes a lot to really upset me, but this website is doing it in spades. In fact, I am so disgusted that I almost don't think I can be witty. Ladies and gents, this is the epitome of everything I hate - ignorance, dishonesty, carelessness, greed, lack of empathy, apathy, and an utter absence of principle.

Now, I'm an animal lover. I have a dog, a horse, and a cat. I grew up with cats, horses, goldfish, hamsters, gerbils, a rockin' Norwegian Elkhound, and even a pet ladybug named Amadeus. So this bastard really hits home for me. But I don't care if you hate pet fur, barking, litter boxes, leashes, and all things warm and fuzzy. This is just plain wrong, and sickening. Where to even begin?

From their homepage:

Animal research has played a vital role in virtually every major medical advance of the last century and now YOU can be a part of that proud tradition and make money at the same time!

...be a saint, do a good deed. And LINE YOUR POCKETS TOO. Gee, I wonder what the real motivation here is?

From "Who Sells?":

Are you an individual who regularly finds himself with too many cats and dogs on hand or maybe you're just in need of cash? Whether you've got a whole unwanted litter of mutts or just one cat that doesn't get along with the rest, Email me and do a good deed. Keep it up and you can earn bonus money for quantity.

Uh...if you have a whole litter of unwanted mutts, it's because YOU didn't spay/neuter your dog or take the necessary precautions if your animal was left intact (able to breed). That means the puppies/kittens are YOUR responsibility. But apparently you should chuck 'em out like trash and do a "good deed" in the process. I'll nominate you for a Nobel Peace Prize! And more money for quantity! So in other words....keep churning them out!

Also from "who sells?":

WARNING: Anyone found stealing dogs or cats or capturing them in an untoward manner will immediately be suspended from selling to our service.
(However, once purchased and within our system, our strictly enforced policy is that we absolutely can not return product under any circumstance).

Wow, that disclaimer really makes me feel better. SURE you don't steal animals....but once you have your grubby little paws (so to speak) on them, there's no possible way to get Fido or Fluffy back. What kind of sick bastard are you?

This is the part that gets me the most..."Why sell?":

There are many reasons one may wish to no longer be a pet owner.
-Say you're moving and can't take tabby with you.
-Say your expensive hound just had a litter of mutts.
-Say your pooch isn't friendly, won't potty train, destroys your possessions, etc., etc., etc.

Um....if you're moving and can't bring your beloved pet, it's your responsibility to find a good home for it. If you own an "expensive hound", you should be able to afford the spay/neuter surgery that will ensure no "unwanted" puppies arrive. And for the love of Christ, it's not your pet's fault if it won't potty train/learn household rules/isn't socialized - it's YOURS!!! Animals don't train themselves, asshat. Learn some basic training skills, take your dog to obedience class, whatever - it's not exactly rocket science. But no - instead you should KILL YOUR DOG because it's being, um, a dog, and you're too lazy to do something about it.

This is the most repugnant part of all, I think:

You can enjoy their wonderful puppy / kitten stage and then reap a cash reward for having grown such a fine specimen. Start over with a new kitten every six months! Win, Win, and Win!

I don't think I even have words for how morally wrong this is. These are living creatures. They feel pain and fear, they form bonds with others (like, um, their owners!). They're not toys to be used and discarded as soon as you lose interest. If you absolutely HAVE TO get rid of a pet - find a good home for it, take it to a rescue organization, or at absolute worst, take it to a shelter where it has a chance at finding a good home or, if for some reason that isn't possible, a humane end. Don't SELL IT to some scumbag to make a quick buck. What kind of person can do that - raise an animal from infancy, love it, care for it, form a relationship with it ... and then ship it off to a lab to be killed? For some extra cash? Seriously?

But the even bigger issue here is that when you acquire a pet, it becomes your responsibility. You don't have a kid and then decide, eh, I think I'll go throttle it, once it reaches the terrible twos. (And if you do, you end up in jail for the rest of your life, and rightly so.) So what kind of sick fuck would think about a pet that way?

And there's more:

The sad truth is that once Fido or FiFi outgrow their cute age, many pet owners simply no longer feel the love.

Yes, that is sad. It's an indictment of the sad, morally deranged character who runs this website - and of anyone who seriously views their pet that way. Excuse me while I go vomit on my loafers.

"Who buys them?":

A very wide variety of companies and individuals require a large number of animals. All share the common goal of testing and learning to make perfect. [huh?] However, we are strongly against the unethical fur industry and refuse all business from that sector.

Hypocrisy, anyone? The fur industry is unethical but encouraging people to dispose of their pets like a used tissue is somehow okay? And let's not kid ourselves, most of the companies that do animal testing aren't trying to find a cure for cancer. They're trying to test a new shade of lipsitck - and while I am, by any measure, a fashionista, I am so far from thinking that's cool that it may as well be in another galaxy.

More:

Veterinarian schools use a lot of live 'practice' dogs and cats before trying their hands on the patron's beloved pets.

Beloved pets? You mean, the ones they sell to your company when they get bored of caring for them??!!

I think I am going to go apoplectic. Is there anyone out there who thinks this sort of attitude is acceptable?? I am truly aghast - what the hella? doesn't even begin to cover my reaction. Seriously, I hope this person burns in hell. Eternity isn't long enough.

Hate Mail, Vol. I

Now we're going to turn to a topic near & dear to my heart - hate mail that I've received over the years. I seem to inspire a strong reaction in people, one way or the other. Kind of like curry powder or modern art, people seem to have strong opinions about me - love me or hate me, but ambivalence is rare. This topic is particularly salient to me today in light of the scrap I'm currently in at my condo building, aka Yuppie Central. I've been working tirelessly for the Obama campaign over the past few weeks - which is in part why my posts are not as frequent as they'd normally be - and, like any good supporter, I have a campaign sign on my door and on my balcony. According to some asshole in my building, this is definitely not kosher, and I got a call from property management telling me to take 'em down. After some creative questioning, I learned that signs are technically not allowed - but art projects are, which means my plans for the evening include making a Barack Obama collage and putting it on my door instead, and writing "Obama" on my balcony in Christmas lights. They picked the wrong person to trifle with....but I digress.

My point is that, instead of upsetting me, I quite enjoy hate mail and its ensuing bouts of idiocy. It's good for a laugh pretty much 100% of the time. I came to this conclusion quite early in life - second grade, in fact. There was a girl in my class, Nicole H., that just did not like me. As little bratty girls are wont to do, one day she decided to write me a note telling me exactly what she thought of me.

"Your dum"

This amused me to a great degree, and I wrote back...."if you want to insult me, learn to spell first." To which she replied - "your dumm."

Folks, how can you argue with that!? The irony is on so many levels that I can't even begin to process it.

Anyhow, thus was born my love affair with hate mail. Good rule of thumb: if you want to insult me, be my guest. Try, however, to spell things correctly, follow basic rules of grammar, and generally have eloquent and incisive things to say - or else you will be subject to open ridicule and scorn instead of mere disdain.

Today's example of hate mail followed none of those rules, which is unfortunate for its author but a true joy for me - and, I hope, for all of you. Gentle readers, sit back and enjoy this amazing piece of polemic. If it doesn't move you, I don't know what will. Move you to laughter, that is... [My comments in bold; all typos in the original document are as written.]

Megan L-----
10:48am October 27th

I am upset w/ you because I feel like youre behavior while H----- was here was very selfish.

A small piece of advice: if you are writing an 'insulting' letter to someone that you know is smarter than you, extra caution should be taken to ensure proper grammar and a modicum of intelligence in phrasing. Or maybe, in this case, that's too much to ask....which is why I find the next comment oh-so-amusing...

And I feel like you look down on me and think you are better than me and who wants a friend like that?

Newsflash: I don't just "think" I'm better. I know it.

So, thats why we haven't been speaking. I don't want people in my life who won't truly be there for me, I would rather be alone than have people in my life who don't treat me the way I deserve to be treated.

The erratic punctuation is a special touch. And, wow, the self-empowerment rhetoric is compelling, too. Was it picked up from Oprah? Self-help tapes? Preaching to me about comporting one's self with dignity...I only wish it was being done with irony.

I didnt come and tell you this because I feel like you are very good at manipulating situations, and I don't want to be manipulated by you.

Oops. Too late for that, my friend.

If you could maybe acknowledge that that your behavior in the past has been selfish and disrespectful, and work on curbing that a bit, I might be open to being your friend.

Gee, really? What an honour. If I bow and scrape, will you really do me the favour of letting me back into your life? I am truly humbled.

Let it suffice to say, Milton she ain't, but for someone who wants to be a lawyer someday, you'd think she'd be able to muster up some basic logical reasoning skills...not to mention, you know, grammar, spelling, punctuation, eloquence, et al. I'm glad that those were absent, though, because it sure makes for good snark! And it's especially funny since the individual in question was around for the phrase what the hella's inception....which means it is indeed the perfect rejoinder to such mindless drivel.