[Letter Talk] Mail Bag #11

Today you’re going to hear a stern letter to a public figure, a request for fashion advice, and an appeal on behalf of a friend.

Read the letters after the jump!


Dear Easter Bunny,

I’m writing to tell you my displeasure with the email you sent. It was entitled “Personal Letter From the Easter Bunny.” and the email name was “Easter Bunny.” I’m sure you could imagine how excited I was to get an email from a celebrity, even if it seemed a bit sketchy that your email is “newsletter@godadz.com.” I do appreciate that it’s “dadz” with a “z”, because I feel like pluralising “dad” with an “s” is just too stuffy for me. “Dads” with an “s” elicits images of gigantic dockers and t-shirts tucked into pants, or tucked into underwear, I can’t tell how far you’re tucking that stuff.

I opened this email excited to see correspondence, or proof that you’re actually alive, but no. I see a picture of a child with flowers in her hair and a note that says “Send a Letter From the Easter Bunny and receive 20% Off with Free Shipping on All Orders!” What a trap! What a scam! I can’t believe I would have to send the letter from the Easter Bunny. This implies that *I’m* the Easter Bunny. I am not the Easter Bunny, no matter how hard I try, so stop rubbing it in my face! Unless I accidentally killed the Easter Bunny, and the Easter Bunny goes by Santa Claus rules, I am no bunny.

I’m assuming these are all just typos, so that’s why I’m writing you this letter. I demand my letter from the Easter Bunny. Please kindly make this happen, and if you cannot, please forward this letter to your manager, who I assume is the Easter Bunny. I have a very serious lawyer who will be looking at this case carefully. He works at the esteemed law offices of Simon, Garfunkel and Maragna, and his name is Joe Maragna, Esquire. Good day, sir.

Yours sternly,


Dear Abercombie & Fitch,

I’m writing you to ask your advice on a fashion dilemma I’ve been thinking about as of late, and I figured you all would be the best experts to reach out to. But before I ask please give my regards to Mr. Abercrombie and Mr. Fitch. I assume you have both of them taxidermied and stored in a closet, so you can still bring them out to board meetings. Classic corporations, am I right? Ha!

Do you guys still get questions or letters mentioning the song “Summer Girls” by LFO? It was a doofy song from the 90s. I found out that most of the lyrics were jokes and I realized that not only is it still fun to listen to after almost 20 years, but it was an excellent friendly troll on America. Lord knows, we needed a goof in 1999, when the stress of the coming Y2K virus was too much for our little hearts to handle.

Anyway, on to the real reason I’m writing to you. I’m from a little city called Reno, Nevada and it’s a common stop on the way to Burning Man, a festival in the desert where druggies create a communist society that culminates in the re-creation of the famous comic book origin story of how Al Simmons became the superhero Spawn. At this famed Burning Man event, many guys want to be naked, but wear shirts so the harsh desert sun doesn’t turn them into their own kind of Burning Man. Instead of putting on pants for consistency’s sake, these men will walk around looking like Winnie the Pooh, but with identifiable genitals. This practice is known as shirt-cocking. I assume because your two outfits’ accent pieces are your shirt and your cock.

Because I understand the practical reasoning, I have no desire for an end to shirt-cocking, but rather an improvement. So, I pitch this to you: how about an unbuttoned Abercrombie & Fitch jean jacket instead of a shirt? Which option do you find more fashionable? Should a Burning Man fan not wanting to become a shoulder burnt man wear only a t-shirt and look like a cartoon bear? Or should he wear only an unbuttoned jean jacket and look like what I assume Strokes lead singer Julian Casablancas looks like when he showers or has sex.

I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

Yours truly,


Dear Kevin,

I wanted to start off by apologizing if I’ve ever been standoffish or cold to you at first. I am a naturally paranoid person, from a naturally paranoid family, so sometimes it’s difficult for me to warm up to people in certain contexts. As my parents used to say, “WATCH OUT! EVERYONE’S TRYING TO KILL YOU OR THEY ARE GOING TO STEAL YOUR SHIT, MAYBE WE ALL SHOULDN’T GO OUTSIDE THERE’S BEARS OUT THERE” or something of that nature. Fellow wrestling fans elicit a special kind of paranoia as well. Most of the time, if they are dudes (and 99% of the time they are), I expect that I will be subject to an interrogation, because obviously the worst thing that could happen to men is if women shared any of the same hobbies.

But I would definitely say, you’ve never put me in that weird spot and I appreciate that. If anything, you’re a friendly face out in the world and one I am always happy to see. Also, thanks for being a bright spot in the doom cloud that is Twitter. Your unwavering loyalty to Taco Bell is something to truly be admired. I’ve actually taken the liberty of printing some of your finest tweets regarding Taco Bell, and I will be sending a copy of this letter to their headquarters with a request that they give you 100 dollars worth of tacos, because “We must dream big, but we must also dream pragmatically” (this is a quote from Ghandi, who was also a Taco Bell fan).

A Note to Taco Bell:

Dear Taco Bell,

Please excuse this letter within a letter, for I wanted you to see the rest of the letter I wrote to Kevin so you’ll know that he’s a great guy. Please know that Kevin is a very nice and funny human being, and he loves you guys very much. He’s also good to his friends, and ya’ll should know that because he treats Taco Bell like one of his friends…possibly even better than his friends because he tweets nice things about them more.

Would you be so kind as to find it in your heart to give Kevin a $100 gift card to your fine establishment as a gift of friendship? I’m sure he will put it to good use, and his love for you will endure for even longer. Not that I’m saying he won’t love you unless you give him stuff; he’s a good dude and I don’t think he sees his love for you as a transactional thing. If that would be a bit of a strain on you, would it be possible to at least go in and like all his Taco Bell related tweets from the Taco Bell account? I will be here to help in whatever way I can to facilitate this.



Alright, back to the Kevin letter. Hrm, on second thought, it’s weird that I typed that part into the letter. Please excuse me! But hey, since I have you on the horn, I actually have a few questions about Taco Bell.

  1. What’s your favorite order?
    I like to get a couple tacos and a chicken quesadilla. I haven’t gotten them in forever though. The closest Taco Bell I can think of is on Pulaski Highway sort of on the edge of town, and I’m never up there much.
  2. Do you get lots of sauce?
    My friends and I used to take a bunch of mild sauce as a joke when we went there in college. Typing that as a 30-year-old, I’m really reflecting on how my sense of humor has changed over the years. Absconding with extra mild sauce is just a weird inconvenience, it’s not really that great of a goof. (Taco Bell, if you’re still reading this, I’m so sorry, and I hope it doesn’t reflect poorly on Kevin’s chances of getting a gift card.)
  3. If you could take only one Taco Bell location with you on a desert island, which one would you take?
    I would take the one on Prater Way in Sparks, Nevada, because that’s where I accidentally dinged my mom’s van by driving into a pole when I was 15. I assume that if I’m on a desert island I would have a lot of time to really process my regrets.

Kevin, thank you so much for giving me this wonderful opportunity to write a taco-centric letter to a cool dudeman. I know we haven’t seen each other around in the comedy community in a while, but I hope we get to do a show together in the future. Or at the very least I could see you at wrestling soon!

I hope you are doing well and eating Taco Bell,


Kevin’s Tweets