Tag Archives: letters

An open letter to a guy at my gym

Uncategorized,

Dear Sir,

You don’t know me, but we both work out at the same gym. I think you know the one.

As you’re no doubt aware, you have a frequent habit of standing nude in front of the hot air dryers, using them to dry yourself off after your shower. But rather than concern yourself with merely the hair on your head, you also spend a significant amount of time using the dryer to remove any moisture from the rest of your body as well.

While I’m certain that prolonged periods of nudity in the common, central areas of the locker room is a violation of generally accepted gym-locker-room etiquette, I’m willing to give you a pass on this, for the most part. Damp areas on the human body, or elsewhere, are a haven for bacteria and fungi, so perhaps you are overly concerned with that issue and are doing all you can to completely dry yourself.

The issue at hand, so to speak, is your balls.

Sir, what’s with all the cupping?

Again, as you’re aware, your drying routine involves a significant amount of ball-handling. I’m unclear as to why this is necessary.

First, I’ve owned a pair of balls my entire life, and they have, on occasion, been in need of drying. I’ve found that a medium-to-thick terrycloth towel, in conjunction with exposure to the air, is sufficient for complete drying vis a vis my nuts. While I have avoided careful consideration of your own testicular area, despite your very public displays, I imagine from a physiological standpoint, we don’t differ enough that hot air drying would be necessary for you to accomplish this task.

Furthermore, while you are a man of some height, the hot air dryers are far too high on the wall to ensure that the air they emit will have the required velocity necessary to dry your balls. At best, you are treating them to the light suggestion of a warm breeze, akin to the feeling one gets while sitting on a pier at sunset overlooking the Florida Keys. And no amount of cupping, shaking, handling, stretching, organizing, or re-arranging will change that.

For the comfort and consideration of all the people who use our gym locker room, please stop publicly cupping your balls.

Regards,
Our Man In Chicago

Missing Credits, The Final Chapter

Music,

This is the last installment of the first in a series of letters between myself and Matt Wood, proprietor of Wood-Tang.com. A discussion that began as a review of Kanye West’s Graduation has morphed into the question of Mr. West’s social responsibility. You can see part 1 at Matt’s site, part 2 here at OMIC and part 3 back at the W-T.

Wood-Tang:

I’m with you in that I’m not looking for Kanye to be the next Public Enemy. And the most interested artists are those that revel in contradictions, so I’d have no problem with a song about social commentary juxtaposed with a song celebrating the trappings of money and fame (a song other that “Drunk and Hot Girls” which – I think we have both made clear – is the foulest thing unleashed on an unsuspecting person or persons since the time my friends and I were riding home in the car after I had consumed a large plate of jamabalaya at the House of Blues.

I think one of the reasons we ended up on this topic is because there’s little on the album to distract us from it. There’s nothing to get me fired up with anger or sputtering in disbelief, and there are no revelations about the man himself. So in exchange I’d expect some hot beats or stunning musicality, though it’s a much more efficient album that his previous works, stripped of the skits and pointless collabos (and I think the score on the ones that are here ends in a 2-2-1 decision with “Good Life” neither gaining nor losing him any fans).

So perhaps we can consider Graduation as Kanye’s rebuilding year. While it’s not taking things all the way to the big game, it’s certainly accomplishing something by highlighting the need for some change and put some distance between the “international asshole” and the man who wants to be the king of all music awards shows, even the shitty ones.

One of the aspects of the manufactured contest between Kanye and 50 Cent that’s been overlooked is how both men managed to steal a little of the other’s thunder to burnish their weak points. With Kanye’s success (and all the shout-outs he gives to white indie rockers), he’s got to know that the ludicrous criticism that he’s losing touch with real hip-hop will result. And since 50’s movie career was DOA, resulting in lackluster sales for his previous album, he needed to get back on the radar of those who just stick with the big releases. So it helps 50 to look like someone who is a viable candidate to sell as many albums as Kanye even though he isn’t, and Kanye looks more like a traditional hip-hop artist, rather than someone who seems to be leaving the trappings behind for a more mainstream career.

To me, it seems like the cat is still trying to figure out his own identity. Once he does, I think he’s going to end up producing the best album of his career.

Sincerely,
Mr. Smith

An open letter to UK Prime Minister Gordon Brown

Politics,

Dear Prime Minister Brown,

First, my apologies for not sending good wishes to you after you succeeded Tony Blair as Prime Minister. It’s been a busy couple of months, but then look who I’m telling, right?

I know that in the run-up to your appointment, there was a lot of chatter about how you weren’t everyone’s first choice in the job, but you’ve acquitted yourself well, steering the UK through two terrorist attacks with little complaint from either Labour or the Conservatives.

Still, I’d like to offer a bit of constructive criticism on your performances during your first few sessions of Prime Minister Questions. While I’ve never held elective office either here or abroad, I’ve done my share of public speaking, and believe you’d probably seem a bit more ministerial if you STOPPED HITTING THE FRIGGING MICROPHONE WITH YOUR TALKING POINTS!

For the love of Queen and country, man, three times in the last two weeks you’ve smacked the thing like it was a Tory who insulted your beloved Tartan Army. Maybe you need to practice at home more so you stop reminding people that scene from Coming to America.

Just saying,
Our Man In Chicago