obfuscated.org

Dear Holidays that get reschedules for Mondays so I can skip work,

Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you.

Yours,

cp

Dear Linen Closet,

In your FACE, you smug little ass. Holy crap has this been a long time coming. I’ve wanted to do this for longer than you could possibly imagine, and I couldn’t possibly be happier that it’s done. Your days are through, Linen Closet.

I’ll bet you’re going to miss those days of dumping towels on me when I’m looking for a pillowcase, or jamming sheets in to the door so I can’t open it without dumping everything in you on the floor. Yeah, I can hear you crying already, what with your new found inability to make my life a living hell.

Remember that time I had company over? It was summer and I needed a fresh set of sheets for the pullout, but all you wanted to do was throw comforters at me. Oh man did I want to just douse you with gasoline and throw in a match. You made me so mad that one time. That’s all over now, Linen Closet. Your reign of terror is over.

You know what else? I’m never going to buy it again when you tell me that I don’t own any washcloths. THEY WERE UNDER THE INFLATABLE MATTRESS, YOU PUNK. Why on earth would you keep them there? Man you make me mad.

It’s funny, though, that all it took to bring you to your knees was an hour of my life and a $10 set of shelves from Target. Target! I didn’t even have to go to one of those fancy-pants “Organize your life for $1,000,000″ stores. All it took was a chain discount store. SUCK IT, LINEN CLOSET! What’s more is that the shelves were supposed to be $15, but the checker couldn’t find the price so she gave them to me for $10. I didn’t even have to pay full price to shut you down. How does that make you feel?

I hope you learned something today. From now on, you had better keep in mind that I wear the pants around here. You just hold the pillowcases.

Have fun trying to get my boot out of the bath towels,

Corey

Dear Woman on the Hill with the Cat,

Hi there. We met last night at the Shag opening at La Luz de Jesus — L.A. by Day by Night it was called. It was a great show, wasn’t it. I thought the turn out was pretty good, didn’t you?

When I went for dinner at the Dresden with Jill and Tej after the show, there were two questions that I could just not get out of my mind: who was he pointing at, and why were you pointing at him?

I’m guessing that he’s not pointing at you. It’s night and the party seems well enough lit, so he shouldn’t be able to see you. I don’t think it’s popular girl (for whatever reason not pictured on the web) getting chatted up by the two junior marketing executives in the middle of the party. She seems like too much hassle for our friend. I’ll bet it’s the woman at the other end of the party ignoring the waiter. She’s ignoring her drink, so there’s probably something there.

How about you, though? Do you know him or her? Friend or foe? Are you watching surreptitiously or are you in on the joke? And what about your cat? Let me know when you get a chance, because I’ve not been able to stop thinking about it.

Actually, you know what? Don’t let me know. That’d kill the fun.

Yours,

Corey

Dear The Onion,

Wow oh wow oh wow, did you redesign your entire website or what? I’ve been a fan since my days at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, when I gleefully read your print edition every Thursday, and I must say that the recent facelift of your online edition is the most dramatic visual change you’ve gone through since you went digital.

Do you know what part of your relaunch makes me really happy? The fact that you’ve opened up the entirety of your archives to the public. For years there were Onion features and editorials that I desperately wanted to re-read and share with my friends, but because I was way too much of a cheap bastard to pony up for a subscription (and far too much of a coward to go out and find a stolen id/password to use) those great literary gems were always just out of reach.

Needless to say, I went directly — without passing go, without collecting $200 — to my all time favorite article as soon as I learned that you had freed your content: from your “Point/Counterpoint” series, it’s a real marvel of editorial thinking entitled “It’s All About The Benjamins/Actually, The Benjamins Are Only A Small Part Of A Larger Set of Concerns” as told by Mack Master Dwayne, Playa, and Professor E. Worthington Jackson, Howard University. I hurt myself laughing the first time I read it, and I’ve hurt inside for years because I’ve not been able to re-read it.

Thank you for making that hurt go away, The Onion.

Your fan, but not your biggest fan because that would be sort of creepy, but I’m a pretty big fan (not in the physical sense!) all the same,

cp

Dear George Clinton,

I have a question about your Atomic Dog: how do you keep it cool? When I was a child I visited the Wolf Creek nuclear power plant in Burlington, Kansas. The apparatus they had to cool it consumed several buildings. You accomplish the same thing in a space smaller than that of a dog, and that’s pretty amazing.

According to my understanding of things, large volumes of water are often used to cool things of fission. Most nuclear power plants sit on a river or lake or something like that and draw in water like it’s going out of style. I can only assume that nuclear submarines also have an adequate supply of available water for cooling (as they are designed for being under water — handy!). Does your dog have some sort of a huge dish that it drinks from?

Once I read a science fiction book called Snow Crash that had fission-powered “Rat Things” in it. They were about the size of dogs (in fact, I think they were dogs, maybe cyborg dogs or something), and they kept cool by running really really fast whenever they weren’t in special cooling chambers. Also, their skin was specially shaped to dissipate heat. Is your Atomic Dog a cyborg? That’d be pretty neat. I’ll bet you could get it to fight crime if it was a cyborg.

Well George, thanks for taking the time to read this letter. It’s nice to know that musicians can also be innovators in the field of fission-powered pets. Thanks for being an inspiration for all of us!

Your Fan,

Corey

Dear Apathy,

The world will continue to turn even if you don’t catch all five episodes of “The West Wing” on Monday nights. I promise.

Sincerely,

Corey

Dear Peacocks of Arcadia,

I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heard for taking an inch of tread off of my tires this evening. Honestly I believe that it was just getting in the way. My tires are better for being bald and Golden West Avenue adjacent to the Arboretum is better for having my car’s skid marks on it. You truly do a service for everybody.

The City of Arcadia is quite kind to the world at large to value you above cars and trucks and bikes and pedestrians and strollers with children in them and elderly seniors in wheel chairs. It would be a shame to keep you from wandering en mass in to traffic or standing on cars whenever the fancy strikes you. Indeed, no suburb is complete without wandering hoards of marauding foul, protected to the fullest extent of the law.

Because I love you so much, I’d like to extend an invitation to you to visit me in my home town of Temple City. I’ll prepare a tea with scones and little biscuits and everything else you love best, and when we’re all done eating I’ll beat you to death with an aluminum bat.

Love,

Corey

Dear Summer Cold,

I will smite thee. Yes, I know that’s a very direct statement and no way to start a friendly letter, but what I am feeling towards you is not friendly in the slightest. Your days are numbered.

The whole thing is planned out. Necessary supplies have been gathered, and I am mentally and physically prepared to do mortal battle with you, loathsome foe. Prepare for your doom.

On the way home from dropping the kid off at school today, I stopped by the grocery and picked up the following:

• 1 gallon of orange juice, fortified with vitamin-C
• 1 package of Sudafed™ brand “nite-time” cold medication (industrial-grade)
• 1 bottle of vitamin-C tablets (800mg)
• 100 dollars in rubles.
• 100 dollars in gold.
• 9 packs of chewing gum.
• 1 issue of prophylactics.
• 3 lipsticks.
• 3 pairs of nylon stockings.

Shoot, a fella could have a pretty good weekend in Dallas with all that stuff.

Back at the ranch, I was ready rumble. Just you and me, summer cold, mano-a-mano, MORTAL KOMBAT. There was no way you could win. I was armed — to the teeth. I poured myself a glass of OJ, popped the vit-c, banged down a couple of Sudafed™, and your ass, summer cold, is Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

ZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz

ZZzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

<sfx: phone ringing>

"Huh? No, no I’m not coming in. I’ve got a cold. Fighting it to the death. Mortal Kombat, you understand. What? Yes, I emailed the admin this morning. The TPS report? Oh, yeah, I put it on zzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzz."

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz

And that, boys and girls, is the story of how I spent all of Thursday in bed and was still a little sniffly at the end of the day.

Best Wishes,

Uncle Corey

Dear Colleagues,

Due to some glitch in the HR system, it seems that I have been put in place for a major promotion. Specifically, I am interviewing tomorrow for the position of “Senior Manager, Community Development.” Now, I’m not quite sure what that means, and I have absolutely no managerial experience, but it sounds like it’s quite a few steps up on the food chain from “Developer,” so I’m compelled to accept.

The one thing I’m not sure about is the interview. As I did not apply for the position but was apparently selected for it by HR, I would have thought that no interview would be necessary and I could just slide in to the job. However, there’s an impressive gauntlet of “Directors” and “Senior Managers” that I’m slated to run tomorrow afternoon, and I’m a little apprehensive about that. I’ve only interviewed for development positions before, and I’m not quite sure what to expect from a “Senior Manager” interview. Here are the strategies I’ve cooked up with the help of both friends and coworkers to hopefully make it through tomorrow afternoon and in to the promised land:

• Surreptitiously pass a $5 to each interviewer.
• When it is noted that I have no managerial experience and am basically unqualified for the job, point out that I did stay at a Holiday Inn last night.
• End each interview with “so are we good?”
• Answer all questions in mime.
• Change name to Jack Welch.

Anyway, I’m confidant that I’ll make it through tomorrow and will soon be our company’s newest Senior Manager. If you’re real nice to me, I’ll let you ride in my executive helicopter.

Yours,

cp

Dear England and France,

I know that the two of you haven’t always been the best of pals, but I’m glad that you have in certain circumstances been able to lay your differences aside for the sake of the common good. I’m speaking, of course, about the martini. Gin from England, Vermouth from France, cold from Mother Earth herself. This, truly, is a wonderful invention, and our planet would not be where it is today without it. So I salute the both of you, England and France, for giving us the martini.

Cheers,

cp