camera slut

TO:    EMPEROR HIROHITO
FROM:  ADOLF HITLER

They finally did the math on whose armies killed the most--I think you won, holmes!

The more I read about you, the more I'm like, oh, snap, son!  Your people were definitely more evil than mine.  No contest.  This is not unadulterated flattery, as all who know me know I have a tendency for.  I was trying to read this Wikipedia entry on Japanese War Crimes...couldn't even get through it, bro!  No shit.  Turned my stomach.  Once I get to the shit about Unit 731, I'm done.  I actually become pretty appalled, between me and you.  And I'm freakin' Hitler!  I just hate the idea of flesh.  Can't touch it.  But you motherfuckers, your soldiers, they ate their enemies!  Well, civilians too.  Tied dudes up to tent poles and sliced flesh from their bones and left them to die.  Ooh, you nasty!

And you had the comfort women, and your soldiers held contests to see who could be the first to kill one hundred people with a sword, and a ton of other super-ill shit.  I mean, why is it that you don't get the recognition you so truly deserve?  I can't help but think your people are kind of bummed because you don't get credit for being the most brutal, terrible, murderous fighting army of the modern era.  There's a lot of fear and respect coming with that reputation.  Instead of showing love to your people's list of great atrocities, everybody fixates on me, a vegetarian who loves to paint.

For me, I basically think of us as the reverse of the Steve McQeen/Clint Eastwood dialectic.  Would you have guessed those cats were the same age?  But McQueen died relatively young, and since they filled roughly the same niche, the world moved on and Eastwood became the bigger figure in the long run.  I am definitely the Steve McQueen of genocide.  So, how you did NOT become the Clint Eastwood of genocide and barbaric atrocities in general, Hirohito, I'll never understand.

Obviously, though, I was killing Europeans.  That helps.  But also, something you should have talked to me about was brand recognition.  You see that swastika, you know atrocity is waiting in the next room.  Indiana Jones is not freaking saving you, know what I mean?  The symbol alone cranks up the heartbeat of the world.

Plus, the camera loves me.  You were going for that rarely-seen-villain-mastermind vibe, which is cool, but I was such a huge slut for the camera.  No denying it--and it paid off, in my opinion.

And personally, I'm one of those people who thinks that history is more obsessed with me because the Jews own all the media.  I know it sounds a bit racist, but I'll say it anyway.  I mean, shit, I'm Hitler.


Zigheil!  Holla at ya boy, HITO! 

Adolf

summer blockbusters

2nd post!  Today, for reasons I can't necessarily explain or don't want to investigate for fear of shattering my fragile psyche, I bring to your soft, dark eyes a pair of terrible letters addressed to children/fetuses.

AND--don't miss Ebert's review of Transformers 2.  It's charming.

TO: ALL BASTARDS
FROM: ALEJANDRO 

Dear Bastards, 
What's it like? Not knowing your parents? I really want to know, only without having to go through it in any way whatsoever. 

Yours,
Alejandro P

TO: THE ABORTED FETUSES OF 2009
FROM: HOLLYWOOD 

You missed a killer summer blockbuster season!  If the abortion doctors hadn’t Kanye West’d you, you could have cried miserably through the month of May, with films like Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian and Year One, as everyone else did, and had a hell of an enjoyable time being alive.  Also, had you ever taken a breath beyond the placental sack, you would’ve certainly found it all worthwhile after sleeping and spitting up on yourselves come June via modern classics such as Land of the Lost, The Taking of Pelham 123, and Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen.  Then comes August, and G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra.  Shit!

--it's Hollywood talking, fetuses

p.s. The use of colons often denotes a sequel, and ALWAYS summarizes the plot in but a phrase.  Useful info for you if you had been born and developed an interest in film while growing up.
 

Kickoff/About Terrible Letters/1st Post

Let’s see if this terrible idea floats.
OK, so everybody knows that in the 21st century, humans grow more averse to words every day.  But unfortunately, the internet is FULL of them.  I basically just want to add to the pile.  To the great dismay of the masses, this website will be about posting letters (composed of words) which people have written.

This is/hopefully will be a blog of reader-submitted content. We’re looking for terrible letters of all sorts. What do we mean when we say terrible? Find a dictionary. Or, better yet, interpret it your own way. Terrible is whatever. What do we mean when we say letters? Well, we intend for it to be interpreted in the greater literary sense, in the tradition of belle-lettres, if you will; of or pertaining to literature or literary culture; also, writings tinged with the regality and cultural acumen of an episode of South Park or a cleverly executed piece of public restroom graffiti.

What do we mean when we say we? It’s just me and Alejandro over here. We need some chicks, man.

Is this blog a shameless rip off of McSweeney’s Open Letters? Yeah, pretty much. Kinda. We prefer the term variant. But we aim to be just a tiny little corner of the internet which is a continuation in the tradition of great satirists, like Jonathan Swift and Mark Twain, true Impresarios of the Terrible Letter. These were cynical, ruthless men who wrote about the general wretchedness of humanity—but in a way that makes you laugh your ass off. And how can there EVER be enough of that going on?

Honestly, if it’s funny, We’ll publish it.

I will start publishing some terrible letters I’ve diddled in my free time. Then I will ask some of my more ruthless friends to pen their own terrible letters if they so wish (an irresistible temptation), and whatever comes up will get tossed to the masses. If you would like to publish a terrible letter, send it in an email here: terribleletters@gmail.com

Terrible letters can be real or fake, addressed to or from anyone. Letters, emails, postcards, notes, whatever.

Have you secretly wished to write a terrible letter? You’ve been waiting for an excuse, haven’t you? I’ll be honest: it feels nice. Send your letter here so all of us can enjoy. We do not require real names; in fact, we prefer pseudonyms.

Have you ever been dumped via email? I'd love to see the proof. Have you dumped someone who then wrote to tell you what a shit you are, lobbing a barrage of terrible insults to your inbox? I imagine that would be one terrible letter! That counts! Has an enemy actually taken the time to pen some form of correspondence with you? Mine are not that thoughtful...but I might enjoy writing a letter to a couple of them. In fact...keep an eye out for something similar arriving soon on this very blog.  The format for these are exceptionally open-ended.

This project is a work in progress. It was only an idea a couple days ago. Look how far we've come, Alejandro! I’ve never had a blog before, and I only vaguely know what I’m doing at any given time.

And finally, here is our inaugural Terrible Letter. It might not be particularly terrible, but it’s the first one I wrote when I thought of the blog.

TO: OUR BELOVED FAMILY DOG, TILLY, WHO MADE ME BAWL LIKE A CHILD AS I WATCHED THE VET PUT HER TO SLEEP AFTER TWELVE LONG YEARS OF BEAUTIFUL, LOYAL, FULFILLING LIFE

FROM: ALEJANDRO PETTICOAT

Dear Sweet Tilly,

I will always say of you that you can never be replaced, but actually, in my heart, you totally can. You really, totally can. I can go to the pound and find a dog that looks as cute as you and sits like you and loves being rubbed on her belly, and you will have been completely replaced. And on the inside I'll be like, There.  Sadness about dead dog: all gone.

I will only think of you when I notice you in old pictures, and any sentimentality that creeps beyond my solar plexus will be quickly shut down by the realization that I didn’t actually know you—you were just a dog, and I can go pet the dog that’s alive and forget you once again until your memory is revived by accident years later and summarily lost in the following moment. RIP.

All my love,

Alejandro