Dear Abs...

Dear Abs,

Why yes, I did deliberately start incorporating a medicine ball into those sit-ups that you hate so much.
Why did I add in the extra weight?  Because fuck you, that's why.
I'm done screwing around with you, so get your shit together.

With Sincerest Hostility,

Jon

An Open Letter To Subaru

Dear Subaru:

Stop talking about love.  You’re a fucking car company.

Love Sincerely,

Jon

Letters To My Lawn

Dear Tree In My Front Yard,

How the hell many dead branches do you have?  Every time I mow I find that you've deposited a brand new collection of them on the ground.

Sincerely,

Jon

*****

Dear Lawn,

I know that with the recent near-continuous rainfall we've had you've been growing like weeds.  And I don't just mean the weed part of you, but all of you.
However, given the amount of moisture that the soil is retaining, mowing is virtually impossible for anyone short of Jesus.  Seriously, it's like trying to mow seaweed.  Please stop growing until after the ground dries up enough that I can walk on it without fear of drowning.

Affectionately,

Jon

Letters To Redomnd

(As much as I love my new Windows Phone, and really enjoy Windows 7 on my computers, the folks at Redmond who work for a little company known as Microsoft don't always knock it out of the park, so to speak. And I'm not just talking about "Microsoft Bob" here, or even - *shudder* - Windows Me. What follows is my commentary - in letter form - on some of their more notable "swing and a miss" moments.)

Dear Microsoft,

If you ever wonder why so many people hate you - even people who might otherwise be fans of monopolies - go to a Web page in Windows 7/Vista that isn't compatible with the "Aero" color scheme. You see that thing that happens where it changes your computer's entire color settings, rather than just, oh, I don't know, not rendering that single page properly?
It's shit like that.

Hugs & kisses,

Jon

*****

Dear Microsoft,

It's me again. Speaking of problems with Web pages, while I understand that you're all about online advertising these days (for reasons that escape me), ads really aren't that important to the rest of us. Sure, sometimes they can be entertaining, as with your Windows Phone 7 commercials, but, at best, we tend to view them as a necessary evil, though frequently they're much more evil than necessary.
Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that it makes me want to encourage the spread of Malaria* when a Web page takes forever to load because IE is doing everything in its power to ensure that my eyeballs are assaulted by every last ad on the page, even though IE can't - for whatever reason - figure out how to deliver a particular ad to me.
I get it; you love ads. You're gay for advertising, and that's fine, but seriously, if IE can't load the ad, it should just give up and quit trying, or at least it should let me see the damn page and keep working away to make that flaccid ad rock-hard and erect under the table. I don't need to see IE working that pole for all it's worth, okay? I just want to see the actual content of the page (Note: Ads are supposed to be secondary to the content. Whoa, whoa! Settle down; that idea is not blasphemous.).
What really pisses me off - and again, shit like this = everyone hates Microsoft - is when most of the page's content loads, but I'm not able to move around on the page, because there's that last little ad that IE is trying to coax a boner out of, that just can't get it up, and then, even though the entire page - minus the ad with the erectile dysfunction - has already loaded, IE finally quits, blanks the page, and pops up an error message saying it can't load the page.
We both know that's a lie, Microsoft; the page was right there in front of me just a second ago.
Anyway, just something to keep in mind. Sorry about all of the gratuitous mentions of tumescence (or the lack thereof), but some sort of dick jokes seemed called for.

Regards,

Jon

****

Dear Microsoft,

Seriously, have you ever even tried using Word?

Angrily,

Jon

****

Dear Fuckfaces Microsoft,

The beta version of Internet Explorer 9 is a really decent browser. Honestly. No gag here; I actually like it better than Firefox.
Or rather, I like it on the computers on which I can actually get the thing to install.
Oh, and that "helpful" troubleshooting page? The one that tells me to install some updates that are already installed, and to try disabling my antivirus/antispyware software - despite the fact that my antivirus/antispyware software is a Microsoft product - and assumes those things will work, and doesn't even have the decency to shrug its shoulders when it doesn't work? That page...well, that page isn't very good at all.
(Sorry, I couldn't come up with a zinger.)
In searching some forums, I've seen Microsoft reps suggesting an in-place upgrade of Windows itself as the solution to installation problems.
So basically you want me to completely reinstall my Operating System just to be able to install a beta version of Web browser.
Cf. my earlier comments in re: like that, shit.
Still, I have managed to install it on two out of my four computers, and I suppose that two out of four isn't bad. You know, provided you don't consider failing to be "bad."

Yours,

Jon

*For those of you who don't get the reference, Microsoft co-founder Bill Gates has, in cooperation with the charitable foundation bearing the name of himself and his wife, been engaging in a campaign to eradicate the spread of Malaria in the developing world. No joke; it's a laudable goal. But that shit with ads that IE can't render preventing an entire page from loading really pisses me off.

Open Letter To The Internet

Dear Internet,

No video or audio file should ever play automatically upon loading a Web page.
Period.

xoxoxo

Jon

RE: Superman: Secret Origin #3

To: Dan DiDio, Geoff Johnns
Subject: RE: Superman Secret Origins #3

Dan/Geoff:

You know how Hallmark makes those greeting cards with the little chip in them that plays music when you open the cards? You should totally incorporate that technology into Superman: Secret Origin.
That way, whenever Lois appears, you can play these wacky, goofball sound effects that will finish the job of hitting the readers over the heads with how "zany" and "screwball" it all is.

xoxoxo

Jon

P.S. The scenes introducing Rudy Jones, showing him to be a mooch, or a leech or a parasite, if you will? Brilliant foreshadowing, and not at all over the top.

An Open Letter To Verizon

Multiverse Theory posits the existence of an infinite number of universes, each of which varies from the other in ways that can range from the infinitesimal to the completely fundamental.
That being said, there is no universe anywhere in which I would give a flying fuck about the new NFL Red Zone channel.
So seriously, Verizon, it doesn't matter how many times or how many different ways you try to entice me to order the channel by forcing me to click past an ad for it whenever I access my on-screen menu.
So knock it the fuck off.

Sincerely,

Jon

An Open Letter To Sci Fi Channel

Really, Sci Fi Channel? Really?
I understand that advertising dollars are vital to the continued production of network television. Honestly, I do. I also understand that a lot of revenue can be generated from product placement.
I get that.
Your original series Eureka gets a lot of money from Degree antiperspirant. This is made abundantly clear by the number of times it’s mentioned in program identification spots that air during commercial breaks, the sheer number of commercials for Degree that also air during commercial breaks, and in particular by the commercials that feature characters from the show.
Given the sheer number of times that Degree is mentioned during commercial breaks, the rampant product placement in the show itself seems excessive. I mean, honestly, in the episode titled “Do Over,” which featured a Groundhog’s Day style plot in which the same day was repeated over and over, we all noticed – we couldn’t help but notice – when Sheriff Carter took his Degree antiperspirant out of his medicine cabinet and prominently displayed it on his bathroom sink. Trust me; we saw it.
And then, as the day repeated itself, we got to see it again. And again.
That was irritating enough, but with last night’s episode, “Here Come the Suns,” you really went too far.
Bad enough that you had one of the characters on the show actually speak the Degree advertising slogan as a line of dialogue, but you brought things to a new level of inanity when it became clear that the entire premise of the episode was built around using a product that was obviously intended to be a fictionalized stand-in for Degree antiperspirant to resolve a life-threatening situation.
When you had already taken it that far, you might as well have gone all out and have Sheriff Carter look into the camera while holding Degree antiperspirant and say, “Once again, Degree antiperspirant saved the day, providing me with absolute protection when I needed it most!”
Hell, why stop there? As a resolution to the Mayoral election subplot you could have had Degree antiperspirant elected Mayor of Eureka.
Your are not engaging in product placement, you are, in fact, engaging in product bludgeoning.
I’m actually beginning to fear that if this continues on its current course someone from Sci Fi Channel will show up at my house, drive me to the store, and force me to buy Degree antiperspirant at gunpoint.
Like I said, I understand that you need advertising dollars to continue production of shows like Eureka, but a line has to be drawn somewhere. Commercials? Sure. Occasional, unobtrusive product placement? I can live with that. But entire episodes that revolve around antiperspirant? Turn around and get out your binoculars and you might be able to see where you crossed the line.
Just something to keep in mind, and to feel utterly ashamed about.

Thanks,

Jon

P.S. Given how often I mentioned Degree antiperspirant in this letter, could you send some of that product placement money my way? It might go a long way towards addressing my feelings of disappointment over your poor judgment and hacky attempts at shilling for your corporate sponsor.

An Open Letter To Music

Hey,

So how's it going?
I just want to say first of all that throughout the years I've enjoyed much of you. Sure, maybe not most of you, but those parts of you that I do enjoy kind of make up for the parts I don't.
Anyway, there's this chick in the commercial for the iPod Touch who claims to have a very close - if complex - relationship with you.
If that really is the case, could you do me a favor, as her boyfriend/girlfriend/king-size bed, and ask her to just shut the hell up?

Thanks,

Jon

An Open Letter To Apple

Hey,

Remember how your "1984" ad introducing the Mac had so much power and resonance because it only aired once?
Maybe you should keep that in mind with your latest goddamn ad for the Nano that is on the air constantly.

Thanks,

Jon

An Open Letter To The Lady By The Mailboxes Who Smelled Nice

Hello:

You won’t remember me, which is just as well because you also won’t be reading this, but we crossed paths on Thursday evening by the mailboxes as we were walking back to our respective cars.
You smelled nice.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not trying to hit on you or anything. After all, I really didn’t even get a look at you, and if being attracted to someone by looks alone is shallow, where does being attracted to someone based on scent alone fall?
Besides, at this point I’m long past even bothering with hitting on women.
Anyway, the point is that I want to thank you for smelling nice because at that time I really needed it.
You see, I was stopping to get my mail on the way home from work, where I had just recently spent time giving the shift handoff to the person taking over my station.
What you need to know about this person is that his breath gives me an excuse to use the word fetid.
Noxious is another good word.
So is cachet, though it doesn’t actually apply in this case; it’s a good word and I seldom get to use it, so I’m just throwing it out there now while on the topic of good words.
Anyway, to return to the point, his breath is quite possibly the worst I’ve ever encountered.
It makes me think about Monitor Lizards, whose bite is toxic, not because they produce venom, but because their teeth are coated with the decaying remnants of previous kills.
That’s how his breath smells to me: like rotting meat.
Worse, not only does his breath broadcast outward, it hovers around him like some sort of aura. It’s as if his very being is suffused with this odor.
And it’s not just that it’s a bad smell. It’s more profound than that.
With the heavy stink of decay and rot it’s as if you’re confronting your own mortality as you stand there, eyes watering, breath held, with the muscles of your face trembling with the effort to keep from wincing too visibly, you are not just facing an unpleasant odor, you are confronting your own mortality.
On this particular occasion the smell had burrowed its way deep into my nose, periodically launching an olfactory assault as I drove home, and only finally being driven out by your clean, pleasant scent, that was rather like fresh lilacs, and which hung heavy, though not unpleasantly so, in the air as you walked past.
So thank you.

Gratefully yours,

Jon (The guy who breathed deeply and desperrately of your scent as you crossed paths by the mailboxes on Thursday evening)

An Open Letter To The Lady In Her 50s Who Wore Shorts To Super Target

Greetings,

On behalf of everyone present I want to thank you for wearing shorts as you ventured out to do your shopping at Super Target today.
I have to say that I'm positively thrilled that you didn't allow little things like near-freezing temperatures and a sense of propriety to prevent you from presenting yourself to the world in shorts that would be too scandalously short even for Richard Simmons to be seen wearing.
Wintry conditions and a sense of shame, however, should not deprive the world of the sight of those glorious gams, with their bone-white color, rippled thighs, dry, chafed knees, and scores of thin, blue varicose webs, and so I must thank you for not giving in to the temptation to dress more appropriately for the weather and your age.

With Gratitude,

Jon
(Writing on behalf of himself and his fellow shoppers)