Showing posts with label letters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label letters. Show all posts

Sunday, January 02, 2011

The Official 2010 Post-Christmas Letter!

Dear friends, family members, and various law enforcement agencies who have requested that I provide viable alibis for specified dates in the month of June,

Now that the holidays are officially past us, it is time for that precious moment when I attempt to recap my year in a finely-crafted way that subtly balances humility and appreciation for the little things with blatant 21st Century self-promotion. Just for fun, I'm writing it in exciting multiple-choice exam form! Good luck!

1. In April I pulled a practical joke on my loyal readers by:
A. Pretending to quit the blog business
B. Going on a date
C. Changing my name to a symbol
D. Coming out as a die-hard country music fan

2. In August, I made a solo road pilgrimage to what important landmark from the film "Close Encounters of the Third Kind?"
A. Devil's Slide
B. Devil's Tower
C. Devil's Haircut
D. What's with all the Devil references?

3. In October, I finally got back in print, writing for which Salt Lake area newspaper?
A. The Salt Lake Tribune
B. The Deseret News
C. The Daily Planet
D. The Davis County Clipper

4. In February, I concluded a run that netted how many speeding tickets in six months?
A. 2
B. 3
C. 4
D. 5

5. In November, I interviewed what Country Music superstar from the 1990s?
A. Billy Ray Cyrus
B. Garth Brooks
C. Collin Raye
D. Vanilla Ice

6. In January, I saw what Utah Jazz backup point guard defeat LeBron James and the Cleveland Cavaliers with a last-second three point shot?
A. Sundiata Gaines
B. Delaney Rudd
C. Magic Johnson
D. Abe Vigoda

7. Last summer I visited the grave of what Seattle-area celebrity?
A. Kurt Cobain
B. Jimi Hendrix
C. Xavier McDaniel
D. Abe Vigoda

8. In April I switched my morning wake-up station from Oldies 94.1 to Arrow 103.5 because:
A. 94.1 never played my favorite songs anymore
B. The female co-host only wanted to give reality TV updates
C. The female co-host had a stone-cold-serious visit with her personal psychic on-air
D. All of the above

9. This month I will become _____________ for the first time?
A. an uncle
B. debt-free
C. a homeowner
D. humble

10. The best piece of evidence from 2010 that suggests I am movin' on up in the world is:
A. I finally embraced sophisticated adult food like sushi.
B. I finally bought a smart phone in December.
C. I finally upgraded my Jazz season tickets in December and "got out of the ghetto," as one of my students put it.
D. All of the above

In spite of its ups and downs and multiple speeding tickets, I'd have to say I'm pretty grateful for 2010, and looking forward to 2011. As a final send-off, here's a clip I came across on one of those nerd blogs I love so much.

Here's hoping that 2011 gives you plenty of chances to laugh...

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

An Open Letter to LeBron James

Dear LeBron,

I just wanted to write and say thank-you for the last two weeks.  No, seriously.  Summer is typically a sports wasteland for me.  I'm not a baseball guy, not a tennis guy, and definitely not a golf guy.  The World Cup is OK, and football is still a ways off.  So it was nice to have a constant stream of NBA-related news on ESPN.  And from what I can tell, that stream isn't about to dry up anytime soon.

What's even better is that the Jazz got in on the big show, too.  I never figured you'd consider making Salt Lake City ground zero for your magic kingdom, but I was excited that Kevin O'Connor got Big Al Jefferson and Raja "Clothesline" Bell into Jazz uniforms.  For a while there I thought the only Utah moves were going to be all of our unrestricted guys signing with the Bulls.

Speaking of which, if you had to leave Cleveland, why didn't you pick Chicago?  I think we can all understand why New York or New Jersey were dubious options (not to mention the career-ending decapitation/ACL tear that awaited you in Clipper-Land), but between Miami and Chicago, it seems to me that The Windy City held a lot more long-term potential.  Really, why wouldn't you want to play with this guy?

I get it if you just want to be able to play with your best friends.  It's your career; why wouldn't you want to spend it in the most enjoyable environment?  But that's where things get confusing.  Do you want to win titles and play with your friends, or do you want to be the Greatest Player of Post-Jordan Times?  Because going to Miami suggests the former, and leaving through a live TV special suggests the latter.

That's why the last two weeks has been so interesting for me.  It would be easy to just brush you off as another ego-maniac pro athlete, but there are too many angles to your story to dismiss it.  The Hometown Betrayal angle.  The Superfriends angle.  The Greatest Teammate vs. Greatest Player angle.  In the blink of an eye you went from beloved hero to Public Enemy #1. You turned the Heat into the East Coast Lakers.  You made Kobe likable.  At least MJ waited until his Hall of Fame speech to poop all over his legacy.  And now he's turned on you, too.

But don't get me wrong; aside from the way you treated my mom's hometown, I'd have to say that overall I'm pretty happy with what you brought to the table this summer.  And I can honestly say that I can't wait for next season.

Give my best to the boys.

Love,

Josh

Monday, April 12, 2010

Breaking Up is Hard to Do: An Open Letter to KODJ

Dear KODJ,

Sometimes when an old relationship gets stagnant, you just have to cut the cord.  I had been waking up to your station for more than ten years, but as of last week, I can't take it any more.

It probably started when you began to phase the "oldies" out of your playlist and shift the format from 50's and 60's to 70's and 80's.  I love a lot of stuff from the 70's and 80's, but nowadays it feels like anything pre-Beatles has been rendered obsolete.

It got worse when your female co-host decided to spend generous portions of every morning broadcast talking about the latest happenings on "The Bachelor," "Dancing With the Stars," and "American Idol." I know a lot of people like reality TV, but I am definitely not one of them.  Especially when there is so much better television out there.

But the morning your host decided to have her personal psychic call in to the show to do a segment (without an ounce of self-awareness or irony, I might mention)...that's when I decided I couldn't take it anymore.

You lost me, 94.1...you just lost me.

This morning I woke up to a new show on 103.5.  They used to be the Classic Rock foil to your Oldies, but now you guys pretty much play the same stuff.  There weren't any reality TV updates, though.  No psychics, either.  Just some awkward transitions between Billy Joel and Def Leppard songs, with a little banter in-between.  It's not what I would call a perfect new relationship, but for now it will do.  I have to wake up to something.

Just so you understand, I don't expect everyone to mirror my own taste.  I've known I've been in the minority around here ever since Z-93 sold its soul to Country back when I was in high school.  I just figure that if I'm going to leave, you might as well know why.

So long, KODJ.  We had some good times, we really did.  Breaking up really is hard to do.  Neil Sedaka wrote a song about that.  He's not on the radio anymore.

Take it easy,

The Professor

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

The Official 2009 Post-Christmas Letter!

Dear Friends, Family, Stalkers, and random people who land on my blog after Googling "Why people hate country music,"

Greetings.  As several of you know, this is the first official Post Christmas Letter in two years, since there was no entry for 2008.  That is because 2008 sucked.  I went to a lot of concerts and I went on some cool trips, but I also experienced two major family deaths, got laid off from my job, and was asked to vacate my longtime singles ward, so when late December rolled around, I had no desire to relive all the crapness.  But I'm back now, so relax.


Honestly, even though there haven't been any major family deaths this year, 2009 has largely sucked as well.  Just not quite as much as 2008.  Most of the year has been spent in an existential haze, marveling at the curious chain of events that led me to my current position instead of the future I had so clearly envisioned in 1988: married to Meg Ryan, owner of three Super Bowl rings, fighting crime as a vigilante super-spy on the side.

Here are some of the more notable moments of 2009, organized in convenient month-by-month bullet-point format:


-January: I formally leave the University 32nd Ward to return to the world of traditional family wards, landing in the Bountiful 7th Ward at the end of my street.  Everyone is very kind.  I hate it.  Later in the month I take a quick road trip to Denver, Colorado, where I enjoy a Killers concert with my buddy Fabian, two nannies and Senator Bob Bennett's great nephew.

-February 2009: Thanks to my old KJZZ contacts and my new part-time spot as a Utah Jazz video editor, I shoot a Jazz-Bobcats game from the baseline and put together a game promo that marries Rick Astley to an 18th Century sea battle starring Russell Crowe.


-March 2009: A computer at the gym tells me I have the health of a 43 year old.  I also bought a mop.  March was kind of a slow month.

-April 2009: VCU rejects my application for the Media, Art and Text Ph.D. program, blaming the economy.  A month of daily blog entries fails to increase readership or comment frequency.  Vigilante Super-Spy begins to look like a more reasonable career path than professional writer.

-May 2009: I fire an M-16 at a machine gun range in Kaysville.

-June 2009: After nearly two and a half years of parties, group dates, and Zombie Fests, I vacate the 1200 South house in Bountiful, determined to move on in life...and move about a mile away into West Bountiful.  I also shoot my first wedding.

-July 2009: When my old roommate Brandon decides to get sealed in San Diego, I decide to turn the event into a mega road trip and spend 10 days on the road, swinging down to San Diego through Vegas, cruising up the Pacific Coast Highway to San Francisco, then cutting across I-80 to home.  Definitely one of the highlights of the year.

-August 2009: I realize that making money would be a good way to curb my depleting bank account, and sign on with Salt Lake Community College to teach my first sections of English 1010 in two years.  By the end of the semester I have busted seven students for plagiarism, graded five papers on marijuana legalization, and used clips from "Saturday Night Live," "Raiders of the Lost Ark," and "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre" to illustrate composition principles.  It is good to be back.


-September 2009: I pay a mechanic in Pocatello $400 to fix my alternator on the way to Yellowstone for Labor Day Weekend.  Less than a week later Salt Lake City's answer to Ponch and John bust me for speeding on Beck Street on the way to class.

-October 2009: I play in a band for a bunch of 3rd Graders and their surprisingly animated teachers at a charter school in North Salt Lake, and later, thanks to the inspired nature of my immediate family, I get Giordano's Pizza shipped in for my birthday.

-November 2009: During a co-ed pick-up flag football game in Centerville, I get kicked in the chin to the tune of 11 stitches, leaving me with a substantial scar and the unanswered question of why the majority of my sports-related injuries always take place when I make an extra effort to play defense.  Later that month, a local publisher rejects my memoir manuscript...blaming the economy.

-December 2009: In the middle of another meaningless browse through Facebook, I discover that my third greenie Elder Joshua Clark--who was hit by three cars in the three months we served together in South Chicago--is alive and well and married with five children...in Australia.

...which brings me here: technically employed, sort-of technically dating, living in West Bountiful with a military software programmer and two robots that perform the majority of our housework.  In a sense, it is the zenith of my bachelor existence.


Hope all is well at your end.  Here's to 2010.

Josh

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Max Hall Hates My People


Dear Max,

I'm not much of a college football guy. Didn't go to a lot of games when I was in school up at the U. I was always more of an NFL guy. College ball was nice and all, but I didn't really have much of a passion for it. Didn't have much of a passion for my school, to tell the truth.

Funny thing is, even wilting passions can get worked up when someone's feeling picked on. A persecution complex can be a powerful thing. Just ask Michael Jordan.

I know that you're familiar with the persecution complex, Max. After all, we're both Mormons. Our people got chased out of three different states long before you or I were born. It's pretty much ingrained in us. I feel it whenever I read the Salt Lake Tribune. I feel it whenever the Jazz play the Lakers. Heck, when I was a kid I felt it whenever the 19th Ward played the 53rd Ward in church ball.

There's nothing wrong with feeling persecuted, but how you deal with it says a lot about you. You can't let your complex get the best of you. When you stood up there in front of all those reporters and told everyone how the Ute organization was classless, well, you looked like a jackass. You won the game, Max. That should have been statement enough.

Don't get me wrong, I can understand why you might feel a little persecuted by the University of Utah and its fans. Honestly, I felt kind of bad for you when everyone made fun of all those interceptions you threw last year. And if it's true that some of us poured beer on your folks, that definitely wasn't cool. Nobody blames you for feeling vindicated.  Still, even as a U fan, I don't think all BYU fans are bad any more than I think all Ute fans are good, and I can tell you, you embarrassed a lot of good BYU fans.


I don't know, maybe it was the media's fault. Maybe that's what we get when we stick a microphone in someone's face seconds after the biggest game of their life and ask them to put it all in perspective. That's what was so funny about Jordan. The guy had years to put his career in perspective, and he still came off like a jerk. Maybe with a some time you'll pick up a little more grace. I know I wasn't a bastion of wisdom at your age.

Truth is, I should probably be thanking you. For a second there, you made me proud to be a Ute.

Monday, June 02, 2008

An Open Letter to my Facebook Friends


“This aggression will not stand.”
-George Herbert Walker Bush (to Saddam Hussein, 1990)

“This aggression will not stand, man.”
-The Dude (to The Big Lebowski, 1998)

Dear Facebook friends,

There comes a time in a man’s life when he can no longer stand silent in the face of an ongoing travesty. When he can no longer choose pacifism when he is surrounded by unadulterated hatred. When he must speak up to those closest to him and plead for reason, even as his most trusted peers shun basic human logic. I’m speaking, of course, of your Flixter Movie Ratings.

Actually I’m only referring to one of them. One that has continued to baffle me over and over and over. Through the years I’ve come to understand that when it comes to artistic taste, I am, more often than not, in the minority. That’s fine. I know I can’t convert all of you from country music. I know not all of you will dig Ray Bradbury.

But for the love of all that is holy, why do you hate “E.T.” so much?

As I’ve scanned through that little movie rating comparison thing, over and over I’ve seen this movie get consistently low ratings. One star. Maybe two. Doesn’t matter if it’s a girl, a guy, a transvestite, or an inanimate object. Most of you don’t like “E.T.”, and for the life of me I can’t understand why. Hating “E.T.” is like hating puppies.

Have you no souls? Do you not bleed red? I mean, I can understand if you don’t like Wes Anderson’s movies. The humor is dry as day-old toast. In Tooele. But “E.T.”? What’s the problem?

Is it the presence of Drew Barrymore? That can’t be…she filmed “E.T.” when she was still young and innocent, years from saying “I do” to Tom Green and “Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle”. Back before the drug years, the partying years, and the pre-teen years that followed them.

Does “E.T.” look too funny? That doesn’t work, either. HE’S AN ALIEN. He’s supposed to look funny. If you had been traveling thousands of light years across the galaxy in a giant basketball on a lifelong mission to collect plants, you might look a bit odd, too.

Are you angry because the producers went with Reese’s Pieces instead of M&M’s? Well guess what? M&M’s had their chance, and they said no! That’s right, folks: the geniuses in M&M land looked Steven Spielberg right in the eye, less than a decade after the man directed “Jaws”, “Close Encounters of the Third Kind”, and “Raiders of the Lost Ark”, and said “no thanks, we don’t want to sponsor your little alien movie that’s marketed for kids.” Besides…I’ve got news for you…Reese’s Pieces are way better than M&M’s. Way!

Do you have a problem with Steven Spielberg? Come on! “E.T.” was made in the middle of Spielberg’s golden era, when he would still show up on set dressed in nutter shorts and trucker hats, with a gleam in his eye (behind his aviator sunglasses) that seemed to say, “I can’t believe I’m getting paid millions to make movies!” This was when he was young and full of life, long before he decided to go Judas on the Boy Scouts, long before “A.I.”. Give the man a break.

Look, it’s not very often that a movie gets to me anymore, but this one does every time. When I saw it as a kid I dismissed it because I didn’t want to look like a sap. Seriously, I was six years old…what six year old wants to admit he has emotions other than “I must destroy all competition and consume candy”? But now I'm an adult, and secure in my sensitive feelings. I can even hug another man without guardedly slapping his back. “E.T.” brings together the best of Steven Spielberg and John Williams, combining a story that embodied Spielberg’s childhood (meaning the separation of his parents, not the time he met a fat little alien with a cowbell-shaped head) with some of the best music Williams ever wrote.



Really, listen to the theme swoop in when Elliot rides his bike off the cliff, during that one millisecond when the bike lurches forward before ET’s telepathic guidance system kicks in and flies him off into the night, past the moon in that iconic poster shot. Or the emotional rollercoaster of ET dying, then coming back to life and setting off that dramatic bike chase that was every kid’s dream. The chase where the kids were the heroes. This wasn’t Indiana Jones riding a horse, this was a bunch of kids you probably knew from school, racing their bikes against cops so they could rescue the little alien dude that only they seemed to understand.

See, that’s what “E.T.” is really about: kids. Being a kid. Dealing with grown-ups who don’t get you. Connecting with someone who does. Being young. I just don’t see how we can’t relate to that. When I watch Eliot in his darkened bedroom, proudly showing ET his collection of “Star Wars” action figures—because that’s exactly how a kid would introduce an alien to our culture—Eliot is me. I even had the same guys Eliot was showing him—Greedo…Lando…Hammerhead. Maybe it’s just about timing. Maybe you had to be there.

I still don’t buy it, though. If anyone dissed on “E.T.” because they haven’t seen it in years, I say go watch it again. Remember, I gave “The Office” a second chance. If you still hate it, fine. I’ll still be your Facebook friend. At least you tried. Go watch “Titanic” again. But if you decide you love it, then welcome aboard. When it comes to phoning home, this wagon has unlimited minutes.

Sincerely,

Josh

Monday, April 21, 2008

An Open Letter to President George W. Bush

Dear Mr. President,

How are you? I am fine. I just thought I would write and let you know what I decided to do with the money I’m getting from your Economic Stimulus Package. It felt like the American thing to do.

Originally I thought I was going to have to use my piece of the refund pie to pay off some self-employment tax, but since I wound up with a rebate, I decided to blow some of it by buying a pair of retro Air Jordan IV’s from an e-Bay vendor out of China. I know you’re more of a baseball guy, but the Air Jordan IV’s are the model Michael Jordan was wearing when he hit a mid-range jump shot over Craig Ehlo in Game 5 of the 1989 Eastern Conference first-round series. This was long before Jordan started leading the Bulls to three-peats in the 90’s, and almost a decade before he pushed off of Byron Russell to win the ’98 title over the Jazz. For a long time I have felt like there was something missing in my life—a home, a spouse, children—but now I understand that what I really need are black patent leather mid-tops with a visible air bubble and red trim. So thanks, man.



While I’m at it, I thought I would include some suggestions for stuff you can work on while you’re still President. If you had faked your death sometime after 9/11 and hung out with Elvis and Wilt Chamberlain the rest of your life, your legacy would be pretty set. But since we don’t know how this whole Iraq thing is going to pan out in the long run, it might be smart to get a few more steaks on the grill, so to speak.

Here are my ideas:

1. Grow a soul patch.

It’s been a long time since the days when Abraham Lincoln made his mark on the Presidency with a sweet Amish-style beard. Facial hair has been a rarity for a President since then. So why not break the mold a bit and grow a fly soul patch? It wouldn’t be too over the top like mutton chops, but it would still say, “hey, I’m leader of the free world, plus I like to get my groove on.” It's done wonders for Howie Mandel's career. Can’t lose with a soul patch.

2. Get Led Zeppelin to do a reunion tour.

I’ve found over the years that if your own personal approval ratings are suffering, it’s good to latch yourself on to someone who is really popular, because that association makes people like you, too. No one would care if you helped put together an Eagles’ reunion, because only half of their songs are any good, but everyone likes Led Zeppelin. They played a reunion concert a few months ago across “the pond” in England—they’re British, you see—but that was just a one-shot deal, and now their lead singer is on some folk tour with Allison Krauss. If you could convince him to hook up with Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones again (their original drummer is dead, but his kid is pretty good), America would always remember you as the President that got Led Zeppelin back together again, and you would always be cool. Or better yet, you could start your own band, and then people could say, "well, I don't know that I agree with some of his foreign policy decisions, but his band rocked."

3. Make treadmills illegal.

I was thinking about this whole “legalize marijuana” thing, and I realized that when people want to legalize something that is bad for them, they always argue that if you don’t legalize it everyone will do it anyway, only they will use unsafe methods to do so. But I think there’s a big psychological thing going on here, and I think that maybe if we made something illegal that was good for the American people, we might be able to really help some folks out. If we made treadmills illegal, people would start buying them on the black market like crazy and store them in their basements. Then in the dark of night, America would be working hard on its obesity crisis instead of watching TV. Local gyms could set up secret “Treadmill Clubs” that would only be available to those in the know, and if single guys like me met girls there, we would score double points because they would think we’re health conscious and we’re the “bad boy”. You wouldn’t have to step up law enforcement, because you’d really want people to use treadmills, and people are less angry at the government when they think they are getting away with something. It’s a win-win.

4. Build a friggin’ high tower someplace.

I for one am getting tired of hearing about how some ultra-rich prince in some foreign country is trying to build the tallest building in the world with my gas money. That totally sucks. If we are truly the world’s only superpower (other than the emerging People’s Republic of China, which is Communist, or at least “Communist-Lite” if you consider their whole economic thing), we should have the tallest building in the world. Nuts to this “mile-high tower in Dubai” thing. I don’t even care if we just stick some high-rise rollercoaster in Iowa somewhere, America needs the “tallest manmade structure” title.

5. Get Giordano’s to open a pizzeria in Utah.


I’ve already gone over this in a previous letter, but in spite of verbal eloquence and rising blog traffic numbers, no one from Giordano’s ever got back to me. So now I turn to you. Mr. President, the pizza in Utah blows. We’ve got tons of good places to eat like Red Iguana and Q4U, but when it comes to pizza, the closest thing we’ve got is a place out in Holladay called Gepetto’s, which has great Calzones, but still comes up short when compared to the deep-dish goodness of a Chicago original. I keep hearing that Giordano’s could never open a location in Utah because the crust would never rise properly at our elevation in the midst of the Rocky Mountains, but I think that’s bull. If we can make DVD players that know when to bleep out F-bombs and naked bits, we can make a deep-dish pizza in Zion.

6. Build tons of roundabouts.

It will take a while for everyone out here in Utah to get adjusted, because my fellow drivers are among the most oblivious on the planet, but I think if there’s one thing we really need to emulate about Europe (as opposed to Health Care and an occasional habit of getting overrun by Nazi’s), it is the roundabout. The day of the four-way stop is over. I live right next to a five-way stop, and it’s horrible to get through because everyone sits around looking for someone else to go, until someone finally decides to just hit the gas even if they were the last person to get to the intersection, just because they’re tired of sitting around while some soccer mom in an inexplicably pimped-out Cadillac Escalade tries to figure out if she should wait because the person across the way got there first or if she should go because she is to the right of the other guy, and she could swear that in Driver’s Ed they said something about the dude on the right having the right of way, or maybe it was “choose the right when a choice is placed before you”, or maybe that other guy should have just gone instead of sitting there texting smiley-face logos to some girl he was after but has no chance with because he should really play hard to get because that in the long run is much more appealing in a socio-cultural structure that favors traditional male-female dating roles and makes the male more attractive in an unattainable, “bad boy” way, which would be all the more complete if he were to buy an illegal treadmill.

7. Break off and form your own political party.

One of the coolest Presidents ever was Teddy Roosevelt (who also had facial hair, by the way). One of the reasons he was so cool was that he started his own political party. Not only that, but he gave it a killer name: The Bull Moose Party. Nobody really knows what they stood for, but they remember the name, and they remember the man. So really, what can the Republican Party do for you now? Why not distinguish yourself as an innovator? You could call it “The Super Friends”, or “G-Man and the G-Men”, or “The Rolling Stones.” Tons of good options here.

8. Annex Mexico.

So you rubbed a lot of people the wrong way when you tried to pass off that “it’s not amnesty, but it’s really amnesty” deal for illegal immigrants. Let’s face it, it’s a problem that isn’t going to get any easier, and it’s probably a problem that won’t be solved without making someone feel put out. That’s why I say, if everyone in Mexico is so desperate to come to America, why not bring America to them? And I don’t mean let’s go build a McDonald’s in Chihuahua or open a Ford plant in Mexico City; let’s make Mexico a state. Yeah, you’d probably rub big business the wrong way, but let’s be serious here...you’re a lame duck president…what do you need big business for anymore? The next six months are the only opportunity you will have to just let it ride, baby. So cash in while you can.

9. Make sure McCain picks a good VP.

You’ve already made a formal endorsement of Senator John McCain for President, so now what you need to do is make sure he picks someone good as a running mate. See, John McCain has lots of experience, but he’s really old, and if he gets elected all we’re going to hear are re-hashed Dick Cheney heart attack jokes for four years. So I’d make sure he snags someone young and good-looking, who wouldn’t cause people to panic if he chokes on a Chili Dog.

Here’s my short list:

Mitt Romney

Pro: He’s got an extensive economic success record, which would be critical in lieu of the recent housing crisis. Plus he’s LDS and he’s got great hair, so he’s got the honesty thing and the Reagan thing all locked up.

Con: He can be a little slow on the uptake sometimes, like when his kid prank calls him using sound bites from Arnold Schwartzenegger. But then again, that’s why you guys pick advisors, right?

Samuel L. Jackson

Pro: Unlike Bill Cosby or Colin Powell, Samuel L. Jackson is a cool black guy that no one will ever accuse of selling out to the Republican Party. So you’ve got that diversity thing, plus a guy that no one wants to mess with. Honestly, if you were Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and you had to sit across the negotiating table from Julius from “Pulp Fiction”, would you feel cocky?

Con: There’s no real downside here.

Kate Beckinsale

Pro: If good looks are a bonus for the guy candidates, imagine what it would do for a female candidate. Plus Beckinsale is already married, so I wouldn’t have to worry about her schedule being too busy for us to ever date or anything.

Con: She’s British, but I don’t know if there’s any rule against a foreign person being the Vice President, and she had a pretty decent American accent in “Pearl Harbor”—real patriotic movie!—anyway.

10. Drill for oil in Alaska.

So this gas thing is killing me, man…seriously. It doesn’t make any difference to go to Maverick and use my Adventure Club Card anymore. The big problem as I see it is that we keep depending on foreign oil to gas up our Humvee’s (our watered-down, consumer-friendly Humvee’s, anyway), and as long as that’s the case we’re going to be tied down to manipulative speculation and a region of the world where most people are flat-out crazy. So I say let’s nail Alaska. For one, the place is huge (you need to look at it on a real globe, cause the little cut-away illustration on paper maps—the one next to Hawaii—doesn’t do it justice), and we could still preserve tons of space to just sit around and be natural. No one lives up there other than salmon fisherman—their only basketball player plays for the Jazz now—and they would probably appreciate a second gig drilling oil during the off-season. Think of it, if we started producing our own oil, then by November, you could call a big meeting with all the oil barons from Saudi Arabia and Iran and Venezuela, then five minutes into the conference, you could stand up and say, “suck on this, amigos”, give them the double-bird and walk away from the table. That would be the coolest thing ever.

So there you go, sir…ten relatively easy ways to ensure that the Bush Jr. Administration leaves a positive mark on American history. It will take some time to work out the rest of the stuff, but if you pull off at least three or four of my ideas, you’re guaranteed to be in the top 50% of all-time Commander-in-Chief’s at least. And you’ll be way cooler than Jimmy Carter.

Best,

Josh

PS: Say hi to Condi for me.

Thursday, January 10, 2008

The Third Annual Official Post-Christmas Letter (Unrated Director’s Cut)

Dear friends, relatives, mortal enemies, and random net surfers who landed on this blog in between a Ricky Martin fan page and a site dedicated to mid-eighteenth century Chinese poetry—

As you can see quite clearly from the title, this is the third of the official post-Christmas letters, so named because I long ago gave up the idea of getting Christmas cards out on time. This time around, due partially to a crazy work schedule, partially to laziness, and mostly due to the fact that it’s been so hard to come up with legit blog ideas lately, I have opted to publish this year’s letter online rather than spend a lot of time with Adobe inDesign assembling a pretty .pdf to send around.

I deeply apologize.

I also apologize for the fact that 2007 in the life of Josh was a complete embodiment of that annoying cliché that “things are always darkest before the light shines through”. Or maybe it was, “the night is always darkest before the dawn.” Or, “daylight come and me wan’ go home”. I don’t know. At the end of last January my roommates and I were given two weeks to sign a second 12-month lease at our townhouse or get lost, even though we’d already been promised a month-to-month contract once the initial lease was complete. In April my promotion to full-time English instructor at the Utah State University Salt Lake Center was approved, then redacted, in spite of the best efforts of the local administration. In the same fell swoop, the University also cancelled the firefighter program I had been teaching in for the past two years, so there really wasn’t any reason to stick around---other than health benefits, of course. A few weeks after leaving USU I dislocated and lacerated my right index finger playing church volleyball. Plus I got jacked on my taxes, my grandpa got diagnosed with dementia, and in February we had to put my dog Otto to sleep. I was not a fan of 2007.

Fortunately my roommate John and I managed to land in a great house in Bountiful in March, along with my old friend and editor Mark from my Statesman days in Logan. The house has since been the site of a Toga Party, a Lounge Party, a Bad T-shirt Party, a Bad Sweater Party, and one courtesy visit from the Bountiful Police Department. My decision to walk away from Utah State ultimately became a risk that paid off handsomely. A timely conversation with my old Viewmont High drama teacher Steve Anderson landed me a pro-bono gig as a sketch producer for a KJZZ variety show called “B All Over” over the summer, which in turn became a full-time paid gig as a producer for the station’s upcoming morning news program, “KJZZ Café”. I wound up spending every Monday for about five months hanging out with my grandpa, an opportunity I might not have had were it not for his condition. And in the midst of all that I managed to drive down to San Diego and meet Ray Bradbury.

Oh, yes…it also turns out the church has fantastic insurance policies for their sponsored activities.

As 2007 drew to a close last month, I was most startled to see how similar the year had been to the circumstances of 2002, when I went from full-time cartographic aid at the Natural Resources Conservation Service in downtown Salt Lake to graduate English instructor up in Logan by the end of the year. I started both years treading water in functional jobs that I knew I wasn’t meant to stay at, and by year’s end managed to change addresses, wards, occupations, and careers. Sometimes history repeats itself in totally different ways.

Some other historic notes for 2007? Read my first Harry Potter book. Watched all six seasons of “The Wonder Years”. Debuted a short film at the Epic Summer Film Festival. Got to see Steve Winwood, Eric Clapton, Billy Joel, and the B-52’s in concert (though not all together—what a strange Lollapalooza that would be). I even got to play in a band myself (“The Last Starfighters”) at a ward talent show. A good friend landed me a guest photographer spot at a Jazz game, too.

Even the simple stuff was good. Maddox hamburgers. Fresh salsa in late summer. iTunes. Even having a drive-in movie theater to drop by every once in a while means something to a retro stud like myself.

Most of all I’m happy to say that my family has managed to stick through a year that has seen more than it’s share of speed bumps. The Lord has looked over us in adversity just as much as He’s blessed us with moments of prosperity, and in the end the former will probably be the more valuable of the two. I hope He’s done the same for you.

See you all again in twelve (or hopefully sooner)—

Josh

PS: If any of you owe me money, I have not forgotten.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

An open letter to Andrei Kirilenko

Dear Andrei,

Last night I heard you’d written some blog post that said you wanted out of Utah. Obviously I had an immediate response, but thought I’d wait until it was confirmed that you had actually written the post before I made one of my own.

As of this afternoon, it looks like it’s the truth: after six seasons with us, you want to be traded.

Are you sure about this, AK?

Don’t get me wrong, comrade; I understand your position. Three years ago you were the centerpiece of the Jazz. You were an All-Star. You did everything for us, mostly since nobody else was around that could. When everyone else was either leaving or refusing to come, you played on, happy as you could be.

But now that Deron and Booz have caught on, we don’t really need you to score 20 points a game anymore. We’ve got another foreign All-Star, too. It’s a lot harder to fill box scores when you play on a more talented team, I hear.

Heck, I even understand that playing for Sloan has got to be tough sometimes. But try to cut him a break, Andrei. The guy lost his wife to cancer. Do you think he’s really going to be motivated by whiny blog posts? For Pete’s sake, compared to the guy that coached Stockton and Malone, this Sloan’s a cupcake. He’s a downright friendly guy.

If you really want to go, then go. I just think there are some things you should consider before leaving town:

1. Ex-Jazzmen haven’t exactly led distinguished careers. Granted, you’d probably be the biggest name outside of Karl Malone to leave the team for greener pastures, but if you go down the line, those greener pastures never turned out to be so lush. If I remember right, the biggest ex-Jazz success was Dell Curry. Remember him? I didn’t think so.

2. Patience pays off sometimes. If you get your way and get out of town now, you’re just another selfish millionaire ballplayer. But if you do the noble thing and stick around, you build good karma. Karma paid off for Kevin Garnett, Andrei. Look at the shot he’s getting now.

3. You mean more to the Jazz than you realize. With Utah you have a perfect opportunity to fill a role that is designed for you. You are the perfect “intangibles” guy on a blue-collar team that desperately needs them. Deron may pick up the assists, and Booz might score in the paint, but your blocks and steals and dives and whatever else you pull out of your hat are the things that bring the crowd to life, Andrei. We love you for that, and we want to keep loving you for it.

4. Why would you want to leave a winning team to be a big fish in a little pond? Sure, you might get traded to someone like Phoenix or Dallas, but you’ve made it pretty clear that you’re not interested in winning. You want “freedom”. I understand that, but when your career is over, would you rather look back on championships or scoring titles? Why do you want to be the next Dominique Wilkins? Wouldn’t you rather be the next Scottie Pippen? Go ask Vince Carter, see what he thinks.

5. Utah’s a much nicer place to play than you know. We Jazz fans are a forgiving lot (unless your name is Ostertag). Just look at Karl Malone. His fits and trade demands pretty much became a running gag around here. But when it got time to get down to business, Karl worked his butt off, and we saw that. We forgave and forgot. Even after he shafted us and joined the NBA’s entry in the professional sports axis of evil (Yankees-Raiders-Lakers), we still retired his number. Larry still cried at the ceremony. Do you think you’ll get treated that well in New York or Philadelphia?

(Give me a second. I’m still on the ground laughing after that last one.)

Like I said, Andrei, I know where you’re coming from. Basketball should be fun, even when you’re getting paid millions of dollars to play it. I think you can still have fun with the Jazz, though. And from what I hear, hoisting a Finals trophy over your head can be pretty fun, too.

Give my best to the Mrs.,

Josh

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

Jon Voight hates my people

Dear Jon Voight,

Last spring I saw a clip on “The O’Reilly Factor” that said you were going to be in a movie about the Mountain Meadows Massacre. I was miffed, but I forgot about it, because I don’t spend lots of time thinking about dumb anti-Mormon movies during the day.

Now the movie’s out, and my fears are confirmed: Jon Voight hates my people. And so does General Zod.

What did I do, Jon? Where did I let you down? After all we’ve been through, after so many memories, why this?


Why, after I was so worried when the inbred guy with the teeth was going to shoot you in “Deliverance”, but then luckily you got him first with your arrow?

Why, after I cried with you in that New Jersey bar while you pointed to Derrik Zoolander on the TV and said, “that’s my son, that’s my son”?

And why, after the time you bit Kramer’s arm on “Seinfeld” and almost got me to start an “I Love Jon Voight” fan club?

After all those memories, how could you star in this crap movie? Why screw up such a great track record?

Has the pressure gotten too great? Did your agent take a vacation? Have you struggled to find direction since the falling out between you and Brangelina? Why take it out on the Mormons, Jon?

I’ve been watching interviews you did on important media outlets like CNN, Fox News and “The View”. You keep saying it’s important that the truth be told, but then you said you did your background research on the Internet. Come on, man; I expect more from a guy who played the Pope. I expect more from my eighteen-year-old English 1010 students.

Speaking of the Internet, have you ever read the Rotten Tomatoes Web site? Maybe you should check it out. Apparently “September Dawn” isn’t exactly “Citizen Cane”. According to the Tomato-Meter, it’s not even “Rush Hour 3”.

Do you know why, Jon?

It’s because even movie critics can see through “September Dawn”. They all know it’s a pathetic attempt to make Mormons look bad, and you’re front and center in the production, along with General Zod and Uncle Rico. You’re breaking my heart, Jon.

You can claim that the movie isn’t meant to reflect on current members of the church, but you have to know better than that, Jon. Do you think that after watching “Big Love” on HBO, informed viewers sat back and said, “hmmm, this satire is a clever poke at a radical fringe element of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints who continue to espouse a doctrine that was officially disbanded over one-hundred years ago”?

No, Jon, they sit back and think, “Man, Mormons are weird. I’m totally voting for Rudy Giuliani.”

Do you think that after watching “September Dawn” people are going to say, “Ah, this cartoonish depiction of the Mormon sect is a powerful metaphor for the dangers of religious extremism. It’s a good thing Mormons today are so well-grounded, like that Napoleon Dynamite guy.”

No, they’re going to sit back and say, “Dude, no wonder the Jazz can’t get any good free agents.”

Actually, from what I can tell, most viewers are going to sit back and say, “what the h--- was that?” But then again, that’s just judging by the Internet.

I’m not saying the attack never happened. Even the church (meaning the real one, not the horned polygamist one) freely admits that. But I don’t think that’s what “September Dawn” is about. I think it’s about taking shots at a group that is outside of the “protected” sphere.

Jon, I want to cut you a break because I haven’t seen the movie. It’s rated R, so I’m going to have to wait a year or two until the cut out the naked bits and put it on cable. But I don’t know if I’ll feel any better then. Next time you get steamed when some journalist starts going through your closet, remember the ones you went through yourself.

Love,

Josh

Thursday, March 01, 2007

An open letter to my five loyal readers

Dear reader (and I do mean "dear", albeit in a purely platonic way, assuming that some of you may be in legally sanctioned committed relationships),

I feel terrible that the last two or three weeks have seen so little activity on The Wounded Mosquito. Please understand that I am aware of my lack of productivity, and mourn it exceedingly. I could provide a list of excuses for this lapse, such as writer's block, the various injuries to a number of Jazz players, the fact that the government is trying to milk me for a further $300 on my taxes this year, or the fact that much of my recent material has been shipped to various KSL representatives in an effort to win a spot as a contributing editor on the Nightside Project. I could even man up and admit that my last post--the one on Utah drivers--was only 50% new, and was largely a recycled piece that I pulled off the old Planet Venison site, a site that hasn't seen a sincere update in nearly a year now.

No, all excuses aside, I must give you the real reason for my MIA status: for days I have been unable to turn away from the media frenzy surrounding Anna Nicole Smith. Yes, dear friend, every moment I am not firmly committed to teaching or doing whatever it is that I do professionally these days, I am cycling through channels 41 through 49, eager to get the breaking update on the demise of the former Miss Smith. You can toss aside the Grammy's, the Oscar's, (also known as the "We Hate President Bush Awards, Vol's I and II."). I really don't care about why Britney went to la-la land and decided that the Mr. Clean special was the hot haircut to score. I can't even be bothered with the official opening of Presidential Election 2008 festivities, and all the tired references to polygamy and Mitt Romney it is already making. No, I'm just too fascinated with the Anna Nicole Smith story. Thank goodness it's on every channel. I would sincerely hate to see any pebble of news left uncovered in this one.

It has occurred to me, however, that maybe there is something wrong with this obsession of mine. Maybe there is more to life than slavishly following the fallout of a former reality-TV star's death. Maybe Fox News and CNN and Larry King really should find something more important to report on. There was that former Jazz player that just came out of the closet--maybe we could hear some more about that.

In the meantime, my friends, if you'd really like to see some more material on this thing, and I know you do--your jobs really aren't all that interesting, are they?--why don't you drop me a line, fire off a little message, and tell me what you want to hear about. Let's go for a little stimulus-response, eh? You can post comments here or just e-mail me at venisonskidmore@hotmail.com.

I need your help. Get me back on the wagon. Save me from the netherworld of Anna-land.

love,

Josh

Friday, January 26, 2007

An open letter to the folks at ESPN

Dear ESPN,

For several years now, I have enjoyed top-notch sports journalism both on your TV stations and online at ESPN.com. Commentators like Chris Berman and ad spots like the "This is SportsCenter" series have been some of the highlights of my viewing experience, and I say that with my unholy addictions to "24" and "Lost" well in mind.

That being said, whoever was responsible for last night's highlight reel of the Jazz-Nuggets game in Salt Lake is a pathetic, biased rube who deserves to be run out into the street naked and beaten with a variety of rubber hoses, sporting goods and seafood items. In short, your segment sucked.

When I got home from last night's game, I got online to see your highlight compilation of the contest, looking forward to seeing some up-close footage of some of the action I saw from the upper bowl. But of somewhere between eight and ten seperate highlight clips, every single one showcased a Denver play, usually of (surprise) Allen Iverson or Carmelo Anthony. Every. Single. One.

Just in case you missed it, the Jazz won the game.

THE JAZZ WON.

Now, having attended the game myself, I am well aware that there were a number of highlights on Denver's side tonight, and yes, the majority of them came at the hands of Denver's explosive combo. (Or is that "combo about to explode"?)

But the Jazz had a few highlights as well on their way to outscoring the league's hot duo, highlight's I would think might be SportsCenter-worthy.

There was that towering dunk by Jazz rookie Ronnie Brewer. You remember Brewer, don't you? He was the rookie that pretty much single-handedly turned the game around after Denver managed to put together an eleven-point lead in the third quarter. Brewer was the guy that was hitting all those dramatic reverse layups you guys forgot to patch into your highlight reel. He was also the guy that picked Carmelo's pocket like he was frozen in place.

Maybe you just don't like the idea of patching in rookie highlights. Heaven knows the refs don't like giving them calls. Maybe you could have used the shot of Paul Millsap blasting Carmelo's supposed breakaway layup out of the air. Oh, wait, Millsap's a rookie, too. Too bad.

I guess you guys just have to stick with the story, right? The "how are Carmelo and Iverson going to co-exist" angle? Well, here's the story, boys: Carmelo and Iverson co-existed just fine last night; right up until the moment they lost the game.

At least you guys got the final score right.

Toodles,

The Professor

Monday, October 16, 2006

An Open Letter to my Ex-Credit Card Company

Dear DMBA,

I am writing this letter to formally request that you terminate account # XXXX-XXXX-XXXX-XXXX. I have met another credit card company that is much better at meeting my needs, and no longer need your services.

I do not wish to be rude, but after nearly twelve years together, I feel I should explain my reasons for terminating our relationship. In fact, it is the longevity of our relationship that makes some of your recent policies so frustrating to me.

Here, then, is a list of the reasons I have left you. I list them not to be vindictive, but in the hope that such feedback will help you to better adapt your services for your future relationships.

  1. I find it irritating that after twelve years of loyal service, I have found my interest rate steadily rising, not falling, over the last six months. While I may have a variable-rate policy, my credit record with your company should more than allow for some sort of benefit.
  2. I find it even more irritating that you insist on charging me $15 every time I try to make a payment by phone in order to come in under my deadline. Every other company I do business with allows these kinds of services at no charge.
  3. On the few occasions I have had to make a late payment (never more than a week, mind you), I have been served with a $40 late charge. There has never been a grace period, and $40 is usually more than the minimum payment on my balance.
  4. Speaking of my balance, it seems strange to me that my interest rate would continue to rise when my balance remains such a small fraction of my limit. Now, I do appreciate having a generous limit—enough to pick up a BMW if I were a more frivolous spender—but wouldn’t that in turn suggest that I have been a reliable customer, deserving of a lower rate?
  5. It also disturbs me to find that while my interest rate continues to climb, my bill due date continues to move earlier and earlier in the month. With all of my monthly bills and obligations, it would be nice to rely on the same date each month, thereby ensuring that I get my bill mailed to you on time. But when you factor in your heavy fine toll, this circumstance makes it look as if you are deliberately trying to increase your revenue through late fees.
  6. This is a small complaint, but nevertheless one you should heed: I have come to expect a number of throw-away ads to be enclosed with my bill, but the perforated ad slips that are attached to the return envelope DRIVE ME CRAZY. Please do your customers a favor and discontinue them. If they want to redeem the coupon and get their free clock radio/throw pillow/commemorative Iwo Jima dinner plate, they will mail in the other slip stuck in the envelope.

While transferring my account to my new company, I paid off my balance to MBNA in slight excess in order to compensate for finance charges, and I should have a small credit on my account of about eighteen dollars. I assume you will send me a check for this balance along with my notice of account termination.

Again, I hope this letter proves useful to your customer service department in altering your future policies. For the most part, my time with DMBA was very workable, but the culmination of policies like those listed above leave me no choice but to find greener pastures. Please do not try to get me to re-commit to future membership; I’ve found that in these situations, it’s better to give the other party plenty of space.

Best,

Josh

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

An Open Letter to Casting Directors Everywhere...

Dear (insert name of casting director),

I am pleased to introduce the newest addition to my impressive stable of actor/models:The Professor. He is a spectacular new prospect that is eager to bring a wealth of talent to your projects and a wealth of profits to your pockets.

You have undoubtedly already seen Josh in the critically-acclaimed “Church Ball”, which was recently released on DVD. Josh joined an all-star cast that featured Gary Coleman, Fred Willard, Ron Howard’s brother, and that guy with the moustache from the Wes Anderson movies that is related to Owen Wilson.

This riveting film deconstructs the enigma of church recreation league basketball. Josh is himself a longtime church basketball veteran, and his real-life experience is more than evident in his on-screen work.

Here are just two examples:

Exhibit A takes place early in the third act of the film. Here we see Josh in the lower-right corner of the frame, enthusiastically applauding the arrival of the home team. See the emotion he resonates through a triumphant upraised arm, signaling victory to his beloved squad!


Exhibit B comes a bit later on, after the Mud Lake squad takes the title. This time Josh demonstrates his versatility by appearing in the left side of the frame, joyously congratulating co-star Fred Willard, who is obscured by upraised hands. (Fred’s endorsement quote was unavailable at press time).

Aside from his film work, Josh is also a veteran of the stage. In 1994 he was named Actor of the Year for Viewmont High School. Josh is a meticulous artist and craftsman. He once wrote a 168-page screenplay about Kung Fu and brine shrimp, and his short film entry to the 2003 USU 5th Stake Road Show won “Best Acting”. Now is clearly the time to jump on this talent.

From the enclosed still frames you will notice that Josh is bald. But don’t let that fool you. Josh has made it quite clear to me that he has no intention of settling into mere character roles. In truth, he has received multiple compliments on the shape of his head, which could be described as “globe-like”. He boasts spectacular eyelashes and lips, and is eager to try his hand at romantic leads. He is most excited to work with Jessica Alba and the girl that plays Kate from “Lost”, but is also willing to work with Halle Berry. He has also suggested several of the Utah Jazz Dancers as up-and-coming talents.

I anticipate he will get very busy very fast after his recent star-making turn, so the sooner you call me the better. The time to cast Josh is now. In fact, it might be smart to have a couple of movies in mind instead of just one, cause I’m sure he’ll want to go after the more lucrative offers. A list of his favorite foods and preferred amenities is attached.

Thank you,

Mike Dubek
Dubek Models and Talent

PS: My office line will be disconnected until Friday between 8am and 3pm.

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

An Open Letter to George Lucas

Dear Mr. Lucas,

Last night I watched my roommate’s brand-new copy of Episode IV on DVD. Not the Special Edition one, the bonus disc that has the original version we saw in the theaters.

I have to say, I’m pretty bummed.

I’m writing to you because I feel very conflicted over the way you’ve handled the Star Wars franchise over the last few years, and I want you to know my feelings on the matter. Sure, my feelings may not matter more than the other 500 million Star Wars fans in the world, nor may they matter more than the 500 billion dollars you’ve made off your pet project in the last thirty years. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t pay attention.

Just so you know, I’m a lifelong fan of your work. “Star Wars” came out six months after I was born, and I can’t even remember seeing it in the theater, though my parents maintain I was scared of the Jawas. Darth Vader apparently was no problem.

For the first ten years of my life, I spent a good portion of my free time pretending to be Han Solo, as evidenced by the enclosed photograph. I consider my second grade Han Solo costume to be my second-greatest Halloween costume achievement, next to last year’s pimp outfit, but that’s only because you can’t deny the power of a big fuzzy white coat.

My point is this: “Star Wars” is your creation, and you have all the rights and privileges associated with that ownership. But millions of your fans consider the films to be a part of our childhood, and in a sense, that makes it our movie, too. In the sense that we paid for your multi-billion dollar fortune, that makes it our movie also.

We know you don’t like the original versions of the movies. We know you cut out certain scenes—like the ones where Luke talks to Biggs—because they didn’t fit. (They actually give “Star Wars” an “American Graffiti” feel, which is kind of interesting). But would it betray your sense of artistic ownership to offer up a decent version of what we knew growing up? The versions on the new DVD’s suck. They’re all grainy, and they look like they’re being broadcast on TV. Why not restore the originals and throw in some deleted scenes as a bonus? Don’t you think we’d shell out the money for them? I used to have Han Solo underwear, for Pete’s sake. Making a concession to a devoted fan base isn’t selling out; it’s making an investment.

If you keep moving in the direction you’re headed, people are going to start saying “George Lucas is the best and worst thing to ever happen to ‘Star Wars’.” Actually, they are saying that on Amazon.com. My worry is that you’re going to become the film version of Al Davis. Both of you are headquartered in the Bay Area. Both of you have strange affections to clothing styles (you to flannel, Al to jump suits). And both of you are cultivating the image of an aging maverick rebel who refuses to listen to those around him.

We know you fought the studios to win your autonomy, George. Don’t become a studio yourself.

Sincerely,

Josh

PS: Han shot Greedo first.

Friday, September 15, 2006

Guest Perspective: Utah Driver Training Needs Improvement

Dear Wounded Mosquito guy,

I am a long-time veteran of the Utah highway system, and thought I had a pretty good grasp of the rules of the road. Then the other day on I-15, I just casually say to my wife, "Hun, you ever figure out what this big mirror-thing stuck on my windshield is for? It seems so redundant."

"That's your rear-view mirror, dear," she said.

"But what's it for?" I asked. "I've already got a little mirror on my visor here, which serves me plenty when I need to pop a zit out on the open road."

"The rear-view mirror lets you see who's driving behind you, dear," she said.

To my shock, she was right! I moved the mirror around a little bit, and suddenly I could see a big line of cars backed up behind me on the freeway. The guy right behind me seemed really mad, too!

"Wow," I said, "the traffic behind us is outrageous today!"

"That's because you're in the fast lane, dear," my wife said. "you're supposed to yield the fast lane to passing traffic."

"What!" I exclaimed. "When did they announce that?"

"Haven't you ever wondered why people are always honking and cutting you off and giving you the finger?"

"I thought it was road rage."

"Don't you read those signs that say 'Slower Traffic Stay Right'?" she asked.

"Sure, but that's so people don't drive on the left-hand side of the road. I mean, that would be straight into oncoming traffic! I'm not that stupid!"

Just then, a white Honda Accord swung by me on the right side and cut into my lane, honking his horn.

"What a jerk!" I said.

Then I noticed that my exit was about 100 yards away. But as I moved into the center lane, another guy honked at me.

"What's his deal?" I asked incredulously. This was starting to get on my nerves.

"You didn't use your turn signal, dear," said my wife.

"I'm not turning, Marge, I'm changing lanes!" Finally, score one for Big Daddy!

Finally we made it off the freeway and over to the Golden Corrall for dinner. I tried to enjoy the meal, but I had so much on my mind it was hard to concentrate on my chicken fried steak. Slowly I realized that for years I had been the unwitting victim of a woefully insufficient driver training system in Utah. A pawn! A pansy! To think! All those years, I was supposed to YIELD the left-hand lane! YIELD!

In my defense, I can't always see too well behind me. Most of the time the dualie wheels block my view. And that doesn't even account for those times I've got my boat behind me. Look, I'm doing my best here. I've already sent another letter off to the Department of Motor Vehicles, hopefully we'll get this resolved before anyone else gets out on the road unprepared. Until then, folks should just put on some music or call a friend; they shouldn't be in such a hurry. Maybe we'll get lucky and the state will raise the speed limit up to 65 or something.

best,

A concerned driver.

Monday, July 31, 2006

An Open Letter to Giordano's


Dear Giordano's,

While recently perusing your tasteful brochure at the South Naperville restaurant, I learned that you have opened two locations in Florida--the first outside of Illinois. I was excited to see you expand beyond your traditional Midwestern confines, but pained that you decided to do so in Florida.

Everybody knows that Florida is full of old retired people; "Miami Vice" was a scam designed to attract good-looking people to move there and build pastel colored mansions. Do these people even eat pizza? We should just put those sliding glass doors on their state lines or sell the land back to Spain for cheap.

On the other hand, opening a Giordano's in Utah would be a smart move on multiple counts. I have given this a lot of thought, and have focused my reasoning on four points:

1. Utah pizza stinks. Most Utahn’s think that pizza is supposed to be heavy on cheese and light on sauce. This is a ridiculous fallacy that may be connected to the idea that white people prefer mayonnaise, and tend to favor cheese over meaty sauces. I however prefer the sauce, and I also hate mayonnaise, even though I am white and bald. The closest thing we have to a good pizza place is Geppetto's, and that's only because I like the calzones. Calzones, as George Steinbrenner could tell you, are not pizzas. If Utahn’s had the chance to try your stuff, they would stop ordering delivery and fill your tables with their large traditional families.

2. Connie's is ruining Chicago's good name. When the topic of Chicago-style deep-dish pizza comes up, people usually mention Connie's, since that's the only franchise they've ever encountered. Well, just because you cut big slices out of your crap pizza doesn't mean it isn't crap pizza, and it sure doesn't make it Chicago-style pizza. Giordano's must establish its place as capo de tutti capo of deep-dish pizza.

3. Illinois owes the Mormons. What better way to apologize for running my ancestors out of your state than granting us one of the first non-Illinois Giordano's franchises? It would go a long way towards healing the intense "Utah-Illinois Rift" that has gripped the heart of our nation for decades. You could even get Dennis Rodman to show up at the ribbon-cutting ceremony. Utahn’s would love to run the water under the bridge while eating Giordano's Famous Stuffed Pizza on top of the bridge.

4. Chicago
owes the Utah Jazz. Back in the early 90's, when Michael Jordan was still a humble guy and the Bulls were still underdogs, I was a fan. When he retired early like Jim Brown, I thought, "cool". Then he came back, and while the Jazz were looking for NBA championship #1, Jordan came along and grabbed #5 and #6. That sucks. If you guys believe in karma, you'll do what you can to patch this thing up quick.

Now, one of the risks of franchise expansion is the dilution of product quality. This is what happened to Taco Bell. When they were small, they were great. Nowadays I know in my mind that the food is inferior, and I know in my heart that each hot sauce packet shortens my life by twenty minutes, yet something else still gets me over there...possibly my spleen.

The solution to this problem is restrictive expansion--start small and keep tight reins on the new franchises. Only sell to owners with large forearms that can imitate good Chicago accents. Larry Miller has big forearms--and one really big elbow--but I don't know how he does with accents. Plus he cries publicly from time to time.

If you open up a Giordano's in Utah, I pledge to eat there once a week for the next six months. Unless you open it up in Provo. Every time I go to Provo someone tries to recruit me into a Ponzi scheme, and that's a once-a-month experience at most.

I eagerly await your reply. Attached is a photo of what a Giordano's would look like in Utah.

Love,

Josh
Woods Cross, Utah

PS: Jordan pushed off Russell in Game 6.