Columbia City Paper

Dear Midlands area advertising contacts,
Buying these jeans from you doesn’t really fit my business plan right
now, chief. Yeah, I know we went to school together and you’re
struggling in this economy and blah, blah, but I’m locked into a
contract with Dillard’s for another eight months. Plus, we’re trying to
get a “Best of” sticker for the door. And, bar/restaurant manager dude,
I just don’t think having dinner there is a wise investment for me at
this time. Hey, talk to regional, man! I appreciate what you’re trying
to do, but honestly, your decor offended my mother-in-law and I’ve
already spent all my beer money for this entire fiscal year. Sure, it’s
laughable to budget that way, but you think I have a business degree?
C’mon! How ‘bout you try me again in the fall during back to school?
Yeah, I know I’ve said that for four years. You gettin’ wise? (The
nerve a these fuckin’ guys! Hey, Paulie, you heard what this guy just
said?)

Columbia City Paper

Dear local journalists,
Are you guys as intrigued as we are by the domestic spying allegations leveled by former NSA intelligence analyst, Russell Tice? The Defense Dept. says he’s mentally ill; Tice and others claim the feds are just trying to discredit him. Who knows? But, whatever you believe, according to Tice, the NSA specifically targeted journalists for years, monitoring their personal phone calls and emails. That’s right, in a shadowy room somewhere in Washington a man in headphones may have intercepted Temple Ligon arguing with a telemarketer or J.R. Berry getting smoochy with his wife over the phone. Come to think of it, Morehead’s piece on Bush-era Republican sex scandals really made the rounds online a couple of years ago. It was right around the time he got stuck in an unlocked bathroom because a heavy lotion user accidentally greased the knob and he had to call on his cell and plead frantically for help. …Good Lord! Certainly there’s no file.
Columbia City Paper

Dear City of Columbia,
Rumors abound that you removed benches in the downtown business district in an off-the-record attempt to thwart complaints of lazing bums. We’re gonna go out on a limb here and predict that they’ll just curl up on the sidewalk now. Or, worse, be roused into mischief since they have no place to roost. Were any studies conducted to indicate the potential spike in the bum-to-visitor ratio at the public library? The various implications here are staggering. (Pun intended.) Look, they don’t have much, Columbia, but a person –whether bum or taxpaying schmo—has a right to take a load off on some city-provided ass slats. Dang!
Columbia City Paper

Dear male drinking buddies,
OK, I’ll admit it: I downloaded a pirated beach body exercise video. So what? It’s not like I’m getting a spray tan or wearing a tracksuit to Bi-Lo. I’m getting fat and I’m too creeped out by the general public to join a gym, so what can I do? What other choice do I have but to pull the shades, turn off the phone and the lights, and rush through one of these things each day like some kind of deviant? Hell, I’d much rather someone walk in on me masturbating than catch me doing knee bends in my living room to an exercise video. I’d rather be caught on all fours drinking out of the toilet than be seen in these sweat pants and Reeboks. Even the cats won’t look me in the eye anymore, so don’t rub it in. My natural inclination is to use the rubber “workout resistance tubes” to strap down a Lazy Boy to the top of my car instead of using them for squat curls. But, that natural inclination has been overpowered by my curiosity to see how you pudgy bastards react to my rippling muscles in 3 to 6 months. …What’s so funny?
Columbia City Paper

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