Monster

Letters to the Editor

To: thefarm@keepgoing.org
Subject: your page on Northcenter [“In Search of North Center“ by Carter O’Brien, Issue 7]

I notice the copyright date is 2002, perhaps you should visit www.northcenterchamber.com. If you have visited Northcenter recently you will notice that the Northcenter Currency Exchange has moved up the street and in its place there’s a new Washington Mutual Bank. Not to mention that Charter One thought it was time to make the move to Northcenter. Also, you might check out www.ribfestchicago.com, the Chamber’s second site promoting our annual summer festival. I live in Northcenter and think it’s a happening, growing neighborhood.

Come and visit us again soon!

Donna Shultz

Carter O’Brien replies:

I must concur. North Center, a.k.a. “Northcenter”, does appear to be rejoicing in its identity these days (and apparently while rediscovering itself it changed its name to one word). This new vibrancy is illustrated by the snazzy neighborhood markers at the corners of Lincoln, Irving, and Damen. However, I find North Center’s German bars and funky music venues more happening than its financial institutions!

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Dear Rutger and Edgar Bumfuzzled,

Your “poems” [“Mean, Hurtful Poems to People We Don’t Like”, Issue 13] need to be more clever and less filled with rabid, unrepentant, unbridled hate. Then your site would be fun to visit instead of just sad. Right now the content reads like off-the-cuff, rambling. It’s like a cry for help.

I’m happy you’ve found an outlet for your very obvious anger. But being an outlet for your rage doesn’t make it fun for visitors. You’ve got to inject some wit, something at all clever, into the content.

More wit. Less idiocy. 8-)

All the best,

James

The Bumfuzzled Brothers
present

Two Off-the-Cuff Reactions
to James’s Unsolicited Letter

1.

Dear James:

Clearly you are some variety of chimpanzee or very large, clever monkey who, when put behind a keyboard, managed to randomly bang out this absurd, primitive message.

So what’s it like being a monkey? Do you have a lady monkey in your life to pick the lice and fleas from your fur? Or maybe a boy monkey? Do you eat many bananas? Do they make you wear diapers or are you free to throw your feces against the wall and masturbate at will?

Do you know Koko or any other famous apes?

We appreciate your communiqué, James, because monkeys acting like people are hilarious and never fail to make us chuckle. Have you ever seen the classic Clint Eastwood film Any Which Way But Loose? The chimp in that is an absolute riot. He drinks beer and beats guys up. If you haven’t seen it you should check it out.

Feel free to write us any time, James. We always enjoy a larf. We thought it was particularly funny the way A FUCKING EMOTICON 8-) ENDED UP IN A LETTER DEMANDING EXPLORATION INTO THE FINER POINTS OF WIT. Boy, that’s clever, James. Monkeys who use those things are positively dripping with the wit. Nearly as smart as small children.

All the Blahs,

Edgar and Rutger Bumfuzzled

2.

Dear James,

You sniveling little sack of vomit.

The God of Wit must have been so proud when you gave him your full allegiance. But how did it happen?

When he appointed you as his judge on Earth, was it because of your startling literary alertness and sense of things? Did you wow him with your sense of duty and outspokenness? Or could it be that you provided him with the extra ammunition he needed to outshine the God of Hatred and Sadness? Would the God of Off-the-Cuff Rambling have been off in saying, “I must stop this James before he extinguishes me with his wittiness?”

No, James. You are little more than a sack for food.

But when you up and sided with Wit over the others, would you not also have drawn protest from other heavyweight gods such as Idiocy? Surely he must have wanted the use of your services as much as any other. And when Wit and Idiocy quarreled and spent sleepless nights trying to ascertain your services, were you then elevated to the status of demi-god, if not officially then in your own mind? Except, instead of having some fancy Greek name you are James?

No, James. You are little more than a sack for food.

And then when you began your tenure as an internet-surfing literary critic, in charge of combing the websites of mere mortals for the lack of wit you presumed you would find, did the great gods smile upon you, slap high-fives, and return to their pursuit of pleasures?

No, James. You are little more than a sack for food.

James, did you happen to think to yourself while reading our work entitled “Mean, Hurtful Poems to People We Don’t Like” that The Bumfuzzled Brothers may have accidentally strayed from the fun stuff?

Hark! We’ve finally found the guy who can make things better for us all, our beautiful mind! And it’s come to us in the form of a loud-mouth, college homosexual creep bag.

You really did it for us, James. Now Rutger and Edgar Bumfuzzled can get back on track and begin writing about puppies and balloons, about summer fun and good friends, about the seashore and cool metrosexuals. Oh, and while we’re at it, James, we’ll inject some witty jokes so that a little judge like you can have some fun on the fucking internet!!!

No we won’t do that, James, because you are a sniveling little sack for vomit.

Furious,

Rutger and Edgar Bumfuzzled

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