We get letters.
Actually, we don’t, but I came of age right around the time the National Lampoon began publishing, and one of the most fascinating features in the magazine was letters to the editor that were actually fake.
For example:
To the editor: Has anyone seen my head? I appear to have misplaced it while I was out riding yesterday. I’m sure I’ll find it soon. Thank God nothing happened to my tits. That would be a real tragedy. Signed JAYNE MANSFIELD
You get the picture.
Well, the Lampoon isn’t around anymore, although archives still yield plenty of humor when it comes to the letters.
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To the editor: People like you never seem to learn. When you attack gun aficionados by saying they must be under-equipped in the genitalia area, you are obviously unfamiliar with real men. They don’t call me “Anaconda” for nothing. Signed WAYNE (TINY) LAPIERRE, Mogadishu, Somalia
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To the editor — Better listen to him, Skippy. I’ve been dead for more than 10 years and they won’t let me off the hook. These gun guys are harder to get away from than the Mafia. Signed CHUCK HESTON, Cold Dead Hands, ID
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To the editor — Don’t you realize that fake letters to the editor went out of style when the National Lampoon stopped publishing more than 25 years ago? The seventies are over, dude. Signed P.J. O’ROURKE, Nixon, N.M.
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To the editor — So you really don’t believe I was unaware of what my evil subordinates did to hurt the good people of Fort Lee, NJ? You really think I am a bully who punishes my political opponents? You know as much about politics as I do about tap dancing. I’ll never be president, but I’m still The Man. Signed CHRIS CHRISTIE, Bada Bing, N.J.
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To the editor — I don’t know why, but I certainly thought dying would be different than this. For one thing, it’s impossible to get a decent cup of tea. For another, there are people here who are actual wogs. It could have been worse. I could have wound up in Hell. Signed PRINCE PHILIP, Afterlife, U.K.
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To the editor — For all our hopes that you would someday mature, it appears you are still unable to respect your betters as you should. To be as sarcastic in your remarks about such a great educator as Professor Mick Curran and his work with young minds simply shows your feelings of inferiority. When you write about him, you even do ridiculous things like using pictures of other, less attractive Mick Currans. Have you no sense of decency, sir?” Signed KEITH JOHN, Secret Identity, CA
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To the editor — When I was still alive, I felt like kicking the crap out of Sam Kinison for his jokes about how I got stuck playing Captain Kangaroo for 30 years. Not that he wasn’t right. I did want to play Willy Loman or do Shakespeare. But now that we’re both dead. I see Sam isn’t actually a bad guy at all, and he sure did nail what it was like to be married. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!” Signed ROBERT KEESHAN, Marsupial Heaven
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To the editor — The captain doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Kinison’s a jerk. He said when I realized I was Mr. Green Jeans, I took my own life. That’s bullcrap. I had anal cancer. Maybe I should have taken my own life, but I always hoped they would bring back “Uncle Lumpy’s Cabin” and Keeshan could be my sidekick. Life isn’t fair. Signed HUGH BRANNUM, Green Acres, KS
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To the editor — You must be one of those left-wing idiots who doesn’t have any good sense at all. When I wrote that letter to the Iranians, I knew it wouldn’t cause any trouble. Dude, Iranians don’t speak English. If I wanted them to understand it, I would have written it in Iranian. Duh. That’s why I’m a U.S. senator and you’re a, well, whatever it is you are. And I’m warning you, don’t make it look like I’m some town with a disgusting name like Pus, Texas. I’m going to be president someday and you’ll be sorry. Signed TOM COTTON, Toilet Baby, Ark.
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To the editor — This is to inform you that “Toilet Baby” is the trademarked possession of me, the hottest young female comedian since Totie Fields. Each time you use the term, you must send $0.25 to me, care of my agent. I know it isn’t much, but hey, I’m not Kathleen Madigan. Maybe someday. Signed NATASHA LEGGERO, Rockford Files, IL.