wumpuses
On Sincerity, or Letters to Andrew Rohman, Meditation X

Nothing quite fits as snugly as a marriage band or a noose. The only difference between the two is who’s putting it on you. (At least at the outset.)

Most honorable Reverend Andrew Rohamn, who in the dreary solitude of the white page has patiently endured my unforgiving polemic, the dire time is upon us, the moment where after taking a stab in the dark we exclaim “How now! a rat?” and realize we’ve killed Polonius behind the curtain.

In my short and undignified existence I have learned one thing about literature: it is always about death. For if love is the springboard of desire, and desire what curtails inaction, then they both dovetail with the void. And the void on its surface quivers with possibility, like self-annihilating virtual particles emerging from a zone of quantum fluctuation, or a field of hatchling Ministresses of Tasks preparing to burst from their oozing eggsacks like Alien facehuggers. The void is abundant with perturbation; it is alive and empty at the same time. It is that dark, liminal space between two impossibility sincere actions, like the footsteps of doubled Brittanys and Julies on opposite office floors.

But I digress.

My friend, there are only two things left after we are done with our thoroughgoing murder of everything insincere in this world. The one is a mirror image of the other, calling into existence its twin, that mustachioed evil Spock, that Tokyo Rose, that seducing siren…

oh the places i’ve been

oh the places i’ve been

the lost christmas missives: frank heiss

Those of you I know very little about I have lumped together in an imaginary Hollywood blockbuster, which is set an alternate present, where humanity has been overrun by an army of rampaging Jimbo Baltikaukases who grew up to become forest rangers instead of .NET programmers, and there is only one RedBox left in all the world. But it is filled with copies of Fargo, which is  somewhat relevant to the plot, but ultimately useless. In this dangerous alternate reality, however, dauntless lumberjacks Frank Heiss and John Grayson (the film is called Heiss & Grayson: Jimbo’s Revenge) have joined forces against the man-slaying Lithuanians in a final battle to restore order to Western Montana. In terms of thematic styling I had in mind something like Battlestar Galactica, but the score will be composed by Avril Lavigne and I will have to find a way to include a vampire birth. I hope you agree this is a brilliant and profitable idea. Happy Holidays.

desecration of my coffee cup
The Ministress of Tasks: slave
The Ministress of Tasks: did you have something to do with the desecration of my coffee cup?
Me: hello Exquisite Maker of My Multifaceted Dooms
Me: your coffee cup, by "coffee cup" do you mean a receptacle of liquids?
The Ministress of Tasks: yes
The Ministress of Tasks: i do
Me: or do you mean, "coffee cup" as in, that goblet out of which you sup the blood of orphans?
The Ministress of Tasks: that too
The Ministress of Tasks: same thing
Me: now by "desecrate," do you mean deface in a way that would impair your magnificence?
The Ministress of Tasks: yes, i do
Me: or do you mean, "plant a cactus"
The Ministress of Tasks: not that
The Ministress of Tasks: as far as i can tell, there is no cactus planted in my cup.
Me: now I must ask:
Me: by "something to do with" do you mean, did I travel backwards in time to the precise moment of your arrival, discover this cup you speak of, and tamper with it in some unspeakable manner?
The Ministress of Tasks: no
The Ministress of Tasks: i mean, did you take advantage of my momentary absence from this realm in order to deface something beloved and treasured, thereby invoking my wrath upon my return
Me: why certainly, ministress, if I were to have embarked on such an endeavor, the latter half of your sentence would not be my intention, so I would have to say no, I did not
The Ministress of Tasks: i ask not of your intentions, but only of your actions
Me: this "desecrate" verb disturbs me; now suppose I had handled this mug you describe
Me: I wouldn't call such handling "desecrate," per se
Me: I might call it "gently manipulating for some superior purpose"
The Ministress of Tasks: well, whoever did this handling left a mark upon it that cannot be removed
Me: impossible!
Me: can you describe this mark?
The Ministress of Tasks: letters
The Ministress of Tasks: that say
The Ministress of Tasks: "Oh the Places I've Been"
The Ministress of Tasks: a very clever play on the beloved Dr. Seuss
Me: but ministress, such words, were they affixed by a sticky label?
Me: if I may venture a guess
The Ministress of Tasks: aha!
The Ministress of Tasks: it WAS you
Me: well now now, let's not jump to conclusions
The Ministress of Tasks: are you telling me what to do?!
Me: oh of course not ministress!
Me: I am merely supposing that such a conclusion is the only logical one to arrive at, should letters have found themselves on your drinking device
Me: do you not find this letter vandalist clever for having used Dr. Seuss as his method of defacement?
The Ministress of Tasks: no
The Ministress of Tasks: i thought you were doing it
Me: if i were to imagine myself the culprit, I imagine I would first like to know which limb i'd be losing
Me: before i confessed
the lost christmas missives: cassell

Mister Castle, I promise I will not make a tall joke for the duration of this missive. Though it is very, very hard not to. You are indeed exceptionally tall, and it’s not like I can pretend you aren’t. I mean, in order to verify if the words coming out of your mouth are indeed being uttered by you, I have to wheel my chair a few meters back and then crane my neck to look up. But enough about height. Mister Castle, you are a stellar good fellow with a positively lofty sense of humor. I do hope we have many more adventures at various musical establishments with many more single females scattered in your wake.

On Sincerity, or Letters to Andrew Rohman, Meditation IX

Reverend, dear sir, convenient for us to have met again in this drab quarter, you going about your holy business, me confessing away my sins. Suppose you would sit awhile and think with me about something vexing?

All this time I have been going on about what’s “sincere,” and by extension what behavior ought to be done, if right behavior is sincere, that is. But maybe I’m going about it all wrong. Maybe what I ought to be looking for is what’s “just.” Because at the end of the day, Mister Andrew Rohman, all we’d really appreciate is if 1 and 1 added up to 2, and that everyone got their just deserts, no matter what their behavior.

Sir, math is not fair. Like a four-foot tall vindictive Jewish high school teacher from the deep South with a seven-pound beehive, 200-year-old bifocals, a shrill voice, and the Ten Commandments plastered over the chalkboard, math does not care how diligently you work or whether you’re capable of demonstrating your understanding of the problem. In math, there is a bottom line and a single, valid answer.

I ask: What is the worm of truth that bores a hole through the apple of forgiveness? Is it mercy, the instant lenience through which a guilty soul is granted restitution? Or is it fear that underlies forgiveness, fear of the finality of judgment, fear of sufficient punishment, fear of the longer road to justice?

And if forgiveness does not look sincerely into the dead, beady eyes of my math teacher and see evil for what it is, Mister Rohman, what does?

From the Freelance Files: “The Lunatic Artiste”

The Inquiry:

I have all these ideas and projects I am involved with and people are constantly asking me where to find me on the internet. Besides a blog, youtube and soundcloud, I have nothing concrete. I have already purchased a domain name from google and am ready to get serious here. The domain name is… [REDACTED] (my “band”). Here are some digital representations of my life and thoughts disguised as music and poetry to get an idea of who I am…

Translation:

I am fucking crazy. I might have an endless supply of cash or I might be a hitchhiking serial killer, who knows? In either case, your life will be a living hell for the next ten years if you’re stupid enough to go to contract with me.

the lost christmas missives: pape

Ah Mister Pape, I do hope this note for Walmartmas 2066 has found you well. Do you remember when Genuine was but a wee corporate filing, those fifty-five years ago? When we filled plastic babes with vodka, and Ali was made of flesh and blood rather than titanium, before the company got bought out by Twitterbook Global? Those were the good old days. Now all we have to look forward to is more kids graduating with 700 million dollar social media doctorates, floating Segways powered by room temperature superconductors, and foreclosures on the Moon. Oh well, at least you sold all that Google stock in the ’14s; who knew Apple YahAOL!Soft would make a comeback? Merry Christmas.

On Sincerity, or Letters to Andrew Rohman, Meditation VIII

In addition to being incredibly arrogant world-destroying lunatics, the members of this deplorable human race—I am forced to admit—are naturally cunning animals, perhaps the only ones on Earth capable of fabricating their own identities on the fly. And I don’t mean in the sort of way The Ministress of Tasks uses alien phermones to hide her true form from human males before she devours them.

I mean in the sort of way human beings openly acknowledge who is cunning and therefore powerful in many familiar social settings. Fear of this thing to be wielded by the cunning in the face of the insipid masses is one of the many reasons why Plato cast out the poets from his Republic. There is the delivery of the threat by the comedian and then the impact of the threat on the tribe. What is the tribe to do when faced with a superior threat, the exactness of which exceeds the tribe’s cunning? The natural response, if the comedian is sufficiently cunning: laughter.

Oh what it is to laugh, Mister Andrew Rohman, to roil from the guts and contort, to feel the relief of our stupidity! Never have we heard from human lips a more sincere expression of terror and defeat in submission to masters more insidious than us! “Hear the tolling of the bells - Iron bells!” as Poe would say. 

But laughter is not sincerity in itself, per se. 

Not honesty in action, no.

the lost christmas missives: arlin

Not surprisingly, the only place I have ever encountered a name like “Arlin” is in Lord of the Rings, the greatest fantasy film ever made. In my day, kids took classes for literary works like Lord of the Rings and Star Trek. We did scholarly things like write papers entitled “Third Order Declensions in Elvish and Klingon” and “The Sacred Feminine in Captain Kirk Fanfiction.” I even had a class in comic books. Now that, sir, is an education. I mean, look at me now! I write copy for condiment companies! But did you know kids these days get to take classes in Harry Potter and Twilight? We have to draw a line somewhere, and if we don’t draw it at supernatural romance, I don’t know where we will.

Merry Christmas.

From the Freelance Files: “The Nigerian Scam Artist (Version 2.0)”

The Inquiry:

I am not sure what I want, but this should help you to make a suggestions and give me a price. Every thing is at Godaddy I would like to have links to YouTube, Facebook, PayPal, and tracing, testimonials, services, legal, web traffic statistics, and so on, I need to be advise about it. I am thinking of selling African arts and crafts witch is made by the locals in the streets, this web side will have hundreds of small stuff on it. Than for the more expensive art I would like to have a tracking option where thru a serial number one would be able to follow the path of a art piece. With YouTube  I want to have a link for some of the art work. PayPal, and what you would propose for on line payments. Facebook to help with marketing and sales. And what ells you would think could help. The web sides I want you to look at is one I found on the internet and I think is something close to what could work for me. This should give you a idee of what I am looking for and I am open to all suggestions.

Translation:

There’s been a dip in profits coming out of my overseas email spam syndicate due to the American recession. I’m looking to start scamming my own neighbors, could you please build me a website for 10,000,000,000 GBP which I will wire to you via a secure Western Union account? 

the lost christmas missives: justin

I have always found audiovisual people to be especially intriguing. There are many things I can’t do, like surfboarding, or driving a really big truck, or piloting a mastodon, or riding a bicycle, but more than any of these activities that shine with my incompetence, making neat videos and playing instruments that emit melodic sounds are paramount. I sometimes wonder, what body part is worth sacrificing in exchange for some innate ability? That is, would you sacrifice a limb for superb athletic ability? Or perhaps a pinkie for instant mastery of backgammon? When I am sleeping in the server room for most of the day to avoid Ali, these are the things I dream about. What are your dreams and aspirations Mister Justin?

all your soirees and past indiscretions
Me: ministress
Ministress of Tasks: slave
Me: kristen has agreed to use my 8 hours today to begin working on your memoirs
Ministress of Tasks: i think that is a wise use of your time
Me: i will be writing in visceral detail about all your soirees and past indiscretions
Ministress of Tasks: there are many of those
Me: i noticed a lot of them end in bloodshed
Me: someone needs to set up a charity foundation for these poor gentlemen
Ministress of Tasks: nah, they'll be fine
Me: also, really ministress, a whole schoolbus of nuns!
Me: that's hardly discreet
Ministress of Tasks: they were totally asking for it!
Ministress of Tasks: fun fact--
Me: you were a nun?!
Ministress of Tasks: my first college was at a former monastery
Ministress of Tasks: and there was a nunnery across the way
Me: was it painful going to college every day
Me: with the holiness in such close proximity?
Ministress of Tasks: and there were rumors of underground tunnels connecting the two
Me: that sounds very buffy the vampire slayer
Me: except you would be paralleled with the Mayor who turns into a giant serpent and eats all the students
the lost christmas missives: nicole

Miss Nicole, I know absolutely nothing about you, apart from having gleaned that you came from Digitas, and that you are a designer. When I first learned you were hired when Megan abandoned us forever to Australia, this frustrated me, because Chris and John were adding employees faster than I could write these Christmas letters. Nevertheless, let me tell you a story about when I was ten years old. I knew this kid in Florida who lived down the street. He collected frogs in a bucket and he would show them to me. (He was my only friend at the time.) One day, he found a slug on the sidewalk and put a wooden board on top of it, out of boredom. I asked, “What are you doing placing that wooden board on that slug, frog friend? And he replied, “Science.” Then he hopped on the board, and we found out what slugs are made of. The end.

From the Freelance Files: “The Real Estate Agent”

The Inquiry:

Looking to design a web site with data base that can sorted in multiple ways for a real estate company. The data base would be of apartments, Condo, and homes for rent or sales including pictures and or movies of the homes.  I should be easy to do update.

Translation:

I have life-threateningly severe attention deficit disorder and am incapable of proofreading anything I write. This is why I’m in real estate. Honestly, I got bored of filling out shady Craigslist ads for foreclosed homes today, so I thought I’d email you in the off chance that you’re cheaper than offshore labor.