A Letter to Sports Authority

Sports Authority
935 First Avenue

King of Prussia, PA 19406

Dear Sports Authority,

Not enough people give thanks these days. So here it goes. I just wanted to congratulate the entire Sports Authority team on the fantastic job they are doing alleviating many of the traffic issues in regards to the bridges, tunnels and bus stations that you manage in New York City and Northern New Jersey. In particular, the operation of the Sports Authority Bus Terminal near Times Square has been fantastic. When I am traveling and I see the Sports Authority name on a terminal, I know I can look forward to fast and friendly service. Oh, any chance on adding some more bus times?

Thanks again,
Kevin McAlister

A Letter to The Port Authority

The Port Authority of New York and New Jersey
Customer Services
Tunnels, Bridges and Terminals
One Madison Avenue, 5th Floor
New York, NY 10010

Dear Port Authority,
I recently purchased a fishing rod at your sporting goods store in Cherry Hill and the service was fantastic! This is exactly why I always buy by sporting goods at Port Authority and not one of your competitors like Dick’s Sports. I also think the Port Authority has the best selection on sporting goods around. Keep up the great work and I’ll be seeing you this fall when I’m ready to buy a new ping-pong table. You know what I always say, “If it’s anything sports, it’s gotta be the Port Authority!”

Thanks,
Brody Jenner

A Letter to Krazy Glue

Krazy Glue
One Easton Oval
Columbus, OH 43291


Dear Krazy Glue,

My name is Rusty. And last week I celebrated my 52nd birthday at the Olive Garden.

I am writing in regards to the events of Tuesday, October 28th, 2008. It was on this evening that I found myself in the highly dangerous Pleasantville, NJ shopping center, a bottom-tier strip mall known for its ruthless Taco Bells and toothless prostitution rings. After dodging bullets and tumbleweed, I went into the K-Mart and picked up the following items: Krazy Glue (4 "single use" mini tubes), a pair of bejeweled mittens, Klondike Bars and That's So Raven season 6 on dvd. Then I headed home to get to glueing.

That's when things came UNGLUED. And FYI that pun IS intended.

I purchased your glue with the intention of repairing the damaged right wing of one of my prized porcelain fairy babies. (Wing broke while reenacting the great fairy babies war of 1473.) I was scheduled to show off this particular fairy at a porcelain fairy babies collectors meeting with the guys in exactly 45 minutes, so repairing the wing was simply fucking imperative.

I'm going to cut right to the chase. All four of the glue tubes ended up being dry, rubbery and useless, much like the food at Denny's. Now I feel dirty and used, much like the food at Denny's. You swindled me, conned me and ruined my life.

Because of your sucky glue, I was forced to show up to the porcelain fairy babies collectors meeting with a broken fairy baby. When I got up in front of the guys to present it, the wing fell off and shattered on the floor, as did my reputation. All of the guys started teasing me, "fairy fraud," "wingless Nazi" and "Mr. Mister" (the later insult was cleverly alluding to their 1985 hit, "Broken Wings.") Within moments, I was asked to leave the club forever.

I sat in the parking lot for hours, clutching my fairy babies, blubbering like a little girl, pondering the irony that your nonworking glue managed to get me into a sticky situation. That's when I was approached by a sympathetic hobo, who after hearing my story presented me with a dozen swigs of his backwashed-filled Whisky. I agreed, got drunk and passed out. After I woke up I stumbled home and found my wife in bed with another man. It was that hobo. He had told her of my story and she said she'd rather be with a dirty hobo than with a man who's the laughing stock of the fairy babies club.

In short, your commercials claim your glue can hold up a construction worker dangling under a beam, and yet, your glue was unable to keep me attached to the one thing that mattered most. My dignity.

Please send me coupons and an assortment of free gifts as compensation.


Love,

Rusty

A Letter to Eggo Waffles

My Eggo Waffles letter

I sent this letter to Eggo Waffles the other day...


Dear Kellogg's Corporation Incorporated:


Hey, it's Joey. This letter is in regards to your Eggo Waffles. You will NOT believe what happened to me yesterday.

I woke up at 3 in the afternoon and I was hella-hungry. The previous night I was out drinking like it was nobody's business...(AKA alone). After I was drunk I believe I walked down to the clubs and/or supermarket. When I woke up this morning I went to whatever girl I was with the night before's refrigerator to look for some Eggos. Bitch had none. What I waste of my time. I took off and headed home.

When I got home I put in some Eggos. While they were getting their cook on in the toaster, I jumped in the shower to wash the sex off. Then I dashed back to the kitchen. That's when I noticed it. My fucking Eggos were GONE. STOLEN. THWARTED? At first I thought of the usual food suspects: Hamburglar, Cookie Crisp guy, The Noid, Trix Rabbit, The Waffler, Aunt Jemima, etc. Then when the acid wore off I turned my attentions to human suspects.

Just then grandma walked in. She had an empty plate.

"Hi Grandma, nice shirt. So, what were you eating there?" I asked.

"Eggos Waffles," she sassily replied. "YOUR Eggo waffles, Joey."

That bitch ate my fucking waffles. I knew it. I then did the only thing I knew to do in this situation.

I coldly glared at Grandma and in Clint Eastwood-style stated, "Leggo my Eggo, Grandma."

Then she says, get this, "I was hungry, I am sorry, but you got Punk'd. Leggo to the store and we can buy some more."

I had it. I grabbed grandma and tied her to a chair.

"Leggo of me!" She yelled.

"I will not Leggo of you," I quipped. "Here, play with these Legos.

At this point I remembered one of your commercials. The one where you told the kids not to take any shit from people who yoink your Eggos. "Vengence at any cost. Leggo my Eggo"

I decided the best course of action would be to blow up the kitchen. Since I am a huge fan of "MacGyver," I constructed a homemade bomb out of Clorox, dish soap, 4 napkins, an apple, toothpaste, dynamite, and several "MacGyver" trading cards. Grandma was pleading for her life, but I didn't care. She'd think twice before leggoing my shit next time. It was time she learned her lesson...via death.

Just as I was about to light the fire to blow the place up, the cops broke down my door. They must have found Beaver Watson's body. They freed grandma and carted my ass off to jail. In the back of the squad car I confessed that I killed Beaver for a previous leggoing incident. Right now I am out on bail (I had money saved from using Eggo coupons) but I will be back in court soon. I hope they serve Eggos in my prison. I have heard terrible stories about what goes on in prisons. Leggoing everywhere.

Anyway, I just wanted to know if you could please mail me some supplemental nutritional information. That would just be great.

Thanks,

Joey

A Letter to the Garden State Parkway

My Letter to The Garden State Parkway (*NOTE* I never actually sent this one!)


Department of Transportation

P.O. Box 600

Trenton, NJ 08625-0600


Dear Department of Transportation:




My name is Theodore Sinclair. You may remember me from my letter in 1987 concerning a type of car that I saw on an episode of ..Mr. Belvedere... I am writing you today in regards to The Garden State Parkway.





My first issue is that the people who collect the tolls are almost NEVER good looking. I..ve seen better looking people at Wal Mart on prom night. Most of these collectors make me want to puke. When I cruise up to the tolls, I just slow to 20 and toss my nickels through the window. No reason to stop. That..s why you need hot babes in bikinis and/or low cut dresses fielding my coin. It..s a tool booth, not a troll booth.




Also, the Parkway is SO boring! My suggestion is that at each toll one of the nude models gives you a CLUE. When you ride the Parkway you collect these clues to solve some sort of mystery. Everyone loves mysteries. The first person to solve the mystery gets to choose from a prize box. You could win season one of Facts of Life on dvd, a hat, Italian water ice, or sex.




The mystery chase also forces the Parkway to be much more of a race. As such, we..ll need to eliminate lanes and speed limits. We..ll also have to add various power-ups and weapons, so it can be more like Mario Kart. I like Mario Kart. I am always TOAD.




I am also VERY happy that you stopped collecting tolls both ways. Other states were mocking us because we used to go ..both ways... It made us seem VERY gay. These states were wondering just what kind of fruits our Garden state was growing.




A few other suggestions:


- Limited edition U2/Oprah RED exit ramps at select locations.


- Rest stops every 3 miles. (I HAVE BLADDER ISSUES.)


- Free pony rides at exit 100.


- See above, but replace ..pony.. with ..hooker...


- Every Wednesday is ..80s night. ONLY cars from the ..80s allowed.


- Special 3-D glasses on Saturdays so when you drive everything is 3-dimensional.


- Pass an even exit, drink a beer. WITHIN REASON.


- Billboards that let you play, ..Where..s Waldo...


- The ability to force people to switch cars with you at any moment.




Please contact me in regards to my suggestions. I really feel that we can team up to win back the people of New Jersey if you give me a six-figure salary and put my plans in motion. I am free to meet anytime EXCEPT Thursday nights (Grey..s Anatomy).







Sincerely,

Theodore Sinclair

A Letter to English Muffins

I sent this off to Thomas' English Muffins.....

George Weston Bakeries
55 Paradise La.
Bay Shore, NY 11706

Dear Company That Makes Thomas’ English Muffins,


Hi. You may not remember me, but I remember you. Each and every one of you who helps to give birth to new English Muffins every day. You have no idea how much English Muffins have meant to me. They have always been there in my time of need and I wanted to give you some thumbs ups.

Here is a very sad story. When I was a little boy growing up during the late ‘60s in Parasail, Australia….I had no real friends. For a brief period of time I befriended a koala named Glenny and a kangaroo named Mr. Tuddles. Each Sunday morning I would venture out into the briar patch and feed Glenny and Mr. Tuddles English Muffins topped with cranberries. They loved them. One Sunday morning everything went wrong. I only had 1 Thomas’ brand muffin at my house, so I had to use two generic muffins as replacements. SIGH. When I arrived at the briar patch, I ate the real English Muffin and I gave the knock-offs to Glenny and Mr. Tuddles. I think they could tell that they were not the real deal, but they didn’t want to say anything. In part because it would be kanga-rude, in part because they couldn’t talk.

The next Sunday when I showed up, Glenny and Mr. Tuddles were both dead. I poked them with my poking stick a few dozen times to make sure. Yep, they were dead. I knew I had killed them by feeding them non-Thomas English muffins. I committed Thomaside (homicide). I promised myself I would never make that mistake again. Or would I?

No, I wouldn’t. But this past week I was in the store and I purchased what I thought was a six-pack of your English Muffins. I am a single father and this morning I called the 5 children I still like down for breakfast. I set up 6 plates….for the 5 kids and 1 fo’ myself. When I opened the bag, I realized your “company” selfishly only put 5 muffins inside.

I knew what had to be done. I am the “bread winner” of the house and I needed my energy, so I had to eat. I tried to decide which one of the 5 kids wouldn’t eat breakfast today, but it is a tough choice for a parent to pick favorites, so instead I ate all 5 muffins. The kids ate nothing. I made them sit there and watch me eat each delectable one, as I told them that the Thomas company was to blame for their starvation. The kids were angry and it was destroying our family. I made each kid write their feelings about your muffins so you could feel my pain. Here are some:

Stuart: (age 5) “The Thomas’ English Muffins corporation makes my tummy cry.”
Bethany: (age 7) “I’d rather shoot myself in the face or watch ABC Family before I look at another one of your muffins.”
Penny: (age 15) “If The Thomas’ English Muffins Corp was a contestant on American Idol, I would NOT text you a vote via my Cingular Wireless phone.”
Bret: (age 16) “English Muffins? More like English Suckins.”

So Thomas’, on behalf of my family, I’d just like to thank your for your ignorance that has caused my children to go hungry. Don’t worry though….I just got back from the store and since the kids now loath your company, I picked them up a bag of generic-brand muffins. God help you if I have to break out that poking stick.

Yours,

X



PS. I just thought of an invention for the wintertime…English EarMuffins.

Letter to Nick Jr.

I sent this letter off to the gang at Nick Jr.


Nick Jr
1515 Broadway
New York, NY 10036

Dear Nick Jr.,

I like the way you work it. Blue’s Clues is my favorite TV show. If I had to make a list of the 3 greatest TV shows of all time, it would be: 1) Cheers 2) St. Elsewhere 3) Blue’s Clues. Jake and The Fat Man runs a close #4.

I have been playing along with Blue’s Clues for almost 10 years now. I am GREAT. I kick ass at the “Which One is the Dog?” game. But alas…now that I am 33 the game doesn’t seem as challenging. I can tell which one of the 3 objects isn’t the apple in under 5 minutes.

To make the game more challenging, I recently invented Blue’s Clues: The Drinking Game, or Booze Clues as it is known around the office. It is MUCH harder to remember what Blue’s favorite color is after knocking back 7 or 8 Whiskies. Believe me.

The rules are as follows:
If the dog is on the screen, you drink.
If that guy is on the screen, you drink.
Every time the dog barks, booze it.
One of those stupid kids yells something? It’s Miller time.
If the kids solve Blue’s Clues at the end, then you smoke some joints.

The ultimate goal of this game is to get really wasted. I am aware that some little kids watch this show. I am assuming they are child prodigies or baby geniuses. I don’t want to be accused of age discrimination (again) so these kids can booze it up too, but they may want to wait until they are at least 11 when it is more socially acceptable.

Let me know if you want in on my game so we can make it and make me money.

Yours,
X

P.S. I also wrote a NEW theme song for Blue’s Clues. Not “all” new but I took the beat from the song “Footloose” and wrote all new lyrics. By “all new” I mean whenever they say “footloose” I changed it to “Blue’s Clues.” Try it….it works.