Dear commune:
Long time no see, guys. Since you put up those curtains and stationed that security guard out front.
I hate to say it, but I’m starting to feel like I’m not wanted anymore. Used to be you would sit around on your fat asses twiddling your fucking thumbs waiting for a new letter from Weak Hat. And I was always there for you, dropping in your mailbox unexpectedly like a mailbox-size Charo. I guess you got new friends now. All famous and shit, now the commune don’t have time for its old letter chums. Oh, I want “the commune” italicized in that last sentence, ‘cause I mean that shit sarcastic. You guys are douchebags, and I’m not being sarcastic saying that.
But I’m a bigger man than you guys. In fact, stacked one on top of the other I bet I’m still 9 inches higher than all you guys. You have to stack them sideways, not one on the other’s shoulders. Let’s be realistic here.
Sorry, I passed out there. What I was saying is I forgive you. When you get right down to it, the commune is a good source of news and swear words. Which I fucking appreciate. All I ask is you keep turning out the great alternative news, the tell-it-like-it-is columns, and that Entertainment column which I’m ambivalent about. And please publish my letter. And if you can swing it, find a 8,000-foot mountain and carve my likeness into it. For old times’ sake.
“Weak Hat” Tim McGee
Harrisburg, PA
It’s nothing personal, it’s just that you frighten us and we fear becoming like you in any respect. As a measure, we’ve decided to stop swearing just to be on the safe side. The great alternative news and tell-it-like-it-is columns? Not doing that anymore. Please let us know in the future anything else you like about the commune and we’ll take precautionary measures to stop doing that as well.
As men are judged by the company they keep, the commune is regarded by the nutholes who write them letters.
the commune
Dear “Weak Hat”:
Thanks for being so understanding about not publishing your letters. After all, the commune gets hundreds of letters every millennium, and we can’t fit all those into our regular editions. Mostly because two-thirds of them are from you. Quit writing us already.
Editor’s Note:
the commune is not responsible for the stacks of unread letters lying around our offices—if we read them, we’d just be severely depressed visualizing the cretinous nobs slobbering over half-composed thoughts and somehow managing to mail them to us. And we’ve made a promise to ourselves to stop letting our readers bring us down.
Volume 55
the commune was touched by your touching letter and hilarious name. Someone has probably pointed this out to you previously, but did you realize your name also doubles as a descriptive phrase? That’s too much. It could even do triple-duty as a ham radio handle. Man, how funny to be you.
Volume 54
As for Disney being a bunch of perverts, where have you been for the last 50 years, Narnia? You think Pinocchio was really the story of a lying little puppet? What are you, five years old?
Volume 53
Barf. Gag. Retch. Seriously. If we here at the commune ever eat cake again, it’ll be because we forgot your letter. Jesus.
Volume 52
While ‘Do unto others as you would do unto a woman with tits out to here’ is a catchy religious slogan, we have to wonder how successful it would actually be in practice.