Sweet Summer Sweat

Dear Manager:

I am very unsatisfied with your hotel. First of all, there is a weird smell in the air every night, I think it’s dope. Secondly, mirrors on the ceiling might be fine for you hippies out here in the desert, but where I come from the only one I want watching over me at night is the Lord. As for the complimentary pink champagne and mini-bar, Satan himself would be ashamed of such decadence. Why don’t you ask him when you join him in Hell?

I don’t know what kind of operation you’re running here, but I know the woman next us has boys in and out of her room all night. A lot of boys. She tells us they are friends, but I know they are fornicating. I see them dancing in the courtyard and I know.

On top of it, the food is terrible. We ordered a well-done steak from room service, and when we got it, it was so rare I had to stab it with my knife a few times to make sure it was dead. My wife has an irritable bowel, and you can bet you’ll be hearing from our lawyers if she so much as burps funny in the next few days.

Finally, we have tried to get away from this viper pit several times now, but the man at the desk (I think he is a Jew, by the way) keeps telling us that although we can check out any time we want, we can never leave. This is unacceptable. I insist you rectify this situation immediately or I will call corporate headquarters and have you fired.

We are very disappointed. All the folks back home said the Hotel California was such a lovely place. Well, rest assured we will NOT be back.

Sincerely,
Mr. and Mrs. Edward T. Slocum
Peppertown, Indiana

Listful Thinking

I’m so down with the lists lately.

HOLIDAY SONG:

On the 12th Day of Christmas, Johnny Damon* gave to me:

12 leopard handbags
11 piles of cat puke
10 people chewing
9 Mets third basemen
8 tardy C trains
7 hours of TV
6 baffling bank fees
5 Amstel lights
4 subs from Lenny’s
3 dead mice
2 white trash babies…
and a disaster on NGC

*Unless he signs with the Yankees, in which case he will cease to be my true love.

***
Tonight on ABC at 8pm: I Want A Dog For Christmas, Charlie Brown

OTHER CHARLIE BROWN TV SPECIALS:

I’m Allergic to Shellfish, Charlie Brown
I Wish Mommy Would Stop Drinking, Charlie Brown
I Need a Kidney Transplant, Charlie Brown
Daddy Lost All Our Money at the Track, Charlie Brown
You Will Waste Away in Hell Unless You Accept Jesus Christ as Your Personal Savior, Charlie Brown
Don’t Call Me Shirley, Charlie Brown
I Think Tony Soprano is Kind of Hot, Charlie Brown
I’m Mitt Romney And I Approve Of This Message, Charlie Brown

***
PLACES THE DEVIL WENT AFTER GEORGIA:

Macy’s One-Day Sale
Waffle House
His brother-in-law Bob’s
Disneyland
Jersey

Fan Mail

Letters To Artists on my 70s Music Cable Channel

Dear Tony Orlando (and Dawn):
While I appreciate your suggestion I knock three times on the ceiling, I prefer guys who have the balls to ring my doorbell.

Sincerely,
The Girl Downstairs

***
Dear Heart:
He is not a magic man. I guarantee he’ll knock you up, beat the shit out of you and pimp your ass for crack. But hey, it’s your life, I’ll TRY to understand. I only spent 72 hours in labor. What do I know?

Sincerely,
Your Mother

***
Dear Bread:
Baby I’m-a want you? WTF does that mean? Freak.

And Don’t Call Me Baby

***
Dear Dan Hill:
Yes, I agree. Sometimes when we touch, the honesty IS too much. Especially with those big oozing zits all over your back. You think YOU want to close your eyes and hide? As for holding me till we both break down and cry, believe me, buddy, that ship has sailed.

Sincerely,
Your (Ex) Girlfriend

***
Dear Rod Stewart:
Yeah, like I want your body. And the 32 STDs that come with it. Gross!
And like, hello! 78-year-old men should NOT wear spandex.

Sincerely,
The 14-Year-Old You’re Hitting On