My boss is enthralled by the letters you people send. I always forward them to him so he knows how many people write to me, and that way I won't ever get fired. At least, not again. "Save those letters for a week when you need a column," he's always telling me. And though I find it the height of self-indulgence, I'm complying. Who's the boss? He's the boss!
yr current article on oc weekly is not bad. but the thing that boggles me is that u actually have the guts to refer to yrself as beautiful? yr beautiful? LOL whenever i peruse over the weekly and come across yr little article and read bits and pieces(it's obvious i don't read yr article entirely) u do nothing but b*tch. u b*tch like a fat, ugly, 4-foot nothing, beret on yr bangs wearing, tons of make-up wearing, attention striving riot grrrl prik. now, now, don't be pissed coz u know i'm rite. ;) btw, don't claim u did what u did in that bar if u don't have pix to prove it. and also, why don't u ever have yr pic on yr article like most of the contributing scribes on the weekly? i guess it only proves that i'm correct once again. damn, i'm good at analyzing ppl based on their writings. =) if u have the pic to prove me wrong, don't hesitate to send it to me.
Dear Ms. Girl,
It's actually Quelle horreur, not Quelle horrible. If you're going to be a dangerous socialist art critic, you need to know these things.
Was one of those saftigen schoenen Maedchen (sorry, no Umlauts on my Mac) you? Which one? On second thought, never mind—I'm a fag anyway.
My Dearest Commie Girl,
I love you Commie Girl. I desire you in every way—physically, emotionally, spiritually, willy, and nilly. I will do anything for you, my dearest Cogi—if I may call you Cogi—Cogi, my pet, my love, my universe. I will live the Communist life for you Cogi. Even if no one is communist anymore, even if you are the last communist in the world, I will do it for you, because nothing is sadder than a Communist by herself. Now I am crying because you are maybe a communist by herself. I have so much feeling inside for you Cogi that if I cannot have you then I shall rip my beaten heart out of my chest and ask you to hold it while I die. I cannot go on without you, Cogi. So let us eat and drink and plan our commune together, and we shall show the world a new way, a better way, our way.
Plus, I have a 6 figure income, a nice home in Laguna Niguel, and a paid-for Chevy Tahoe SUV. And cable.
Vlademir Torchevsky (please, call me Vlade)
P.S. Also a knock-knock joke for you: Knock-knock. Who's there? Mary. Mary who? Mary Me. Hah! You see? Marry Me! Marry me Cogi, and we shall live together in a blissful state of matrimony, in California.
My SUV? Is it not a necessity? I cannot imagine what a small car might be like. I would be a little minnow among whales, trying to sea ahead while wiggling. But for you I would become a minnow, or perhaps a sea lion since I am always curious and having fun.
Enjoy the holiday today as we celebrate fireworks in the sky.
I saw the invitation to win a date with you, so I started writing, and the next thing I knew I was this Vlade guy. You inspired me! But he isn't real. I'm real, but unfortunately we're probably not a good match. I'm guessing I'm too old (41) and too tall (6'5") for you. And I'm definitely too quiet for you. You need an outgoing guy to accompany you to all those social events you're always attending.
But I've read your articles for years and really enjoy them.
Sometimes I even check out the places and the art. Anyway, I apologize for temporarily misleading you.
Thanks for providing the opportunity for "Vlade" to express himself, it was fun. I just wanted to entertain you a little—you know, returning the favor.
Being straight with you now,
Don't cry. Nothing is sadder —oh wait, you've heard that one already.
I DO feel bad. Really. Thanks for saying I'm wonderful. You're wonderful. Really. Now I feel like I have to say "really" all the time or you won't believe me. I'm really sorry. Really. Really. Okay, I'll stop. Bye for now.
Oh, Becca. he's very sweet and shy and probably married and oh, shit. life is harder for you young folks with all the finagling you have to do to even connect. it's like when you three older kids were born vs. when john was born. i had so many more options to deal with when pregnant with john and it totally stressed me out (amniotic fluids and what they portended and needles in the crown of his little head taking seismic readings on his heaert and blood pressure and other things before he was even born and me watching the tv monitor and freaking out when the lines changed as i struggled to give birth. . . . sheesh!) anyway. i'd ask him if he were married and if not keep him on the list. he's probably not handsome. that's my guess.
PS: But you certainly don't have to do what i say.
I would like to tell you how much I enjoyed your articles this week. This is a change from the past several months of a slump you seem to have been in.
I have been a consistent reader of your work for well over a year now.
I admire your writing style, to see someone express themselves with such color is facinating. I perceive you are flattered often so I will stop here.
Dear Ms. Girl,
Please don't feel bad about the fish. While their death was (from their perspective, anyway) undoubtedly unpleasant, it was a merciful end to their miserable lives away from anything like their natural environment. Plus you would have had to keep a jar of LIVE SEWAGE with WORMS in it in YOUR REFRIGERATOR! And you would have had to PICK UP the WORMS out of said sewage with your (I'm assuming here) LILY WHITE FINGERS! The whole situation would have been untenable for all parties. Love your two columns (art; commie girl) and just wish you could write more on your ideas about culture and didn't have to cover the club scene, which who cares about anyway. But you're da bomb.
P.S. The royal we is very cute. Don't lose it, please.
I'm sorry for writing that nasty letter you reprinted in your column. It was simply a case of professional jealously on my part and I sincerely hope it doesn't nix our 50-50 split on your Commie Girl T-shirt revenues.
Your bitch in revolution,
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Dear Commie Girl,
I've spent most of this morning reading your columns on the web and I'm absolutely floored. It's not often in regoinal presses that I find writing as humourous, enlightening, intelligent and sexy as yours. An absolute pleasure. You've made the obscene cost of my computer entirely worthwhile. Obviously the OC Weekly recognizes your rare gift I only hope they pay you what you deserve.
Dave Alvin See? I'll always get the name dropping in there somehow.