Dear William Shatner,
Hello friend, I have spent many, many hours devoting my time and body fluids to your graven image. I was wondering if you’re willing to hear me beg for mercy – or we could dance by the tonsil trees and have pie, here… in my boudoir…
I dream often of your pearly beads of sweat, pooling in my closed eyelids. Suns rise and set, but our shared experience, fixed in Martha Gram’s womb, will remain forever. Do you recall the time when your hot muffin went missing in my back seat? What buttery fun! Oh, goodness yes. What a night of magic!
Let’s meet in Northern Mesopotamia and rock out, like ancient creatures of lore. But don’t forget to bring the table wax and badger meat.
Sincerely,
~the poor man’s algonquin table
This was one of our early attempts at a surreal letter. We ‘cheated’ a bit at the end there, with the signature. What’s up that ‘poor man’s algonquin table’? Well, it’d be really funny if you knew about the real Algonquin Table and the might of their assembled wit. And if you were Evan Dorkin (or the kind of person who remembers some of his most obscure comic strips), you’d feel a sort of sad pride. I think.
Seriously, though, William Shatner? He’s way cooler than I can describe. This letter is dripping with sincerity.
-BRP
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