Dear commune:

As the old parable goes, “God made dirt and dirt don’t hurt.” If truer words were ever spoken, I don’t know them. They probably weren’t spoken to me.

What I’m getting at is, my girlfriend is an atheist. As you can imagine, if she doesn’t believe in God she has absolutely no confidence in the harmless practice of eating dirt, it could be arsenic or anything. Being an atheist must make the world a very scary, lawless sort of place.

So what do you say? Any tips on how I can get the woman to let me keep eating dirt?

Sincerely,

Kivin Treedink
Ludlow, MT

Dear Ronald:

We are shocked into silence and delighted by your letter, each of us for various reasons. Some latched onto the thoughtful questions on the nature of the universe and the existence of God. Others were intrigued by your use of pizza sauce to dot the i’s and lowercase j’s. It was pizza sauce, wasn’t it? We have a pool going now.

Overall, most of us were heartened by your questions because if a knob of galactic proportions such as yourself can find a girlfriend, there is still hope for those of us still single. Pass on to her our suggestion that, no matter what her shortcomings, she can clearly do much, much better. Keep reading the commune!

the commune

Editor’s Note: the commune is not responsible for the publication of letters than offend you or us. Letters are picked randomly by a rat who comes out of the wall and eats bag upon bag of reader mail—whatever’s left is what we run. Blame the rats, as the saying goes. Volume 42
Well, she’s a frigid ball-breaking bitch, an iron hook to scratch your itch, she’s a harpie. She’s a plague you’ll never shake, a turd baked in your birthday cake, she smells carpy. In addition we’d like to add that she’s a maneater.

Volume 41
If you think living under the oppressive yolk of a braindead cowboy regime with little regard for public opinion or world unity is tough, try getting a paid vacation day approved by Red Bagel or his stooge of a lapdog, Ramrod Hurley.

Volume 40
Though we appreciate your mail, we must stress the fact that the commune is a news organization made up of numerous individuals, office equipment, free-roaming egos and a Ford Fiesta we use for beer runs and other official business.