E-mails, Comments, Clarifications and Random Complaints From Readers

It's 11:34 p.m. on a Tuesday, and you all know what that means: (shudder) letters from readers. Yes, it's a simple and lazy column where Paul lets deuschbags like you write in and bitch about things. Repeatedly. Until I want to leap off a bridge.

So let's get right to it, shall we? It's getting late, and the water underneath the bridge is getting colder.

I'm not sure if our first letter was an actual mistake or just someone trying to drive me insane, but nonetheless, it's the most moronic letter I've ever received. It's from someone named "Jojo". Read on:

This was an extremely enlightening article. I, as an ethnic minority in Scotland find that this

No, that wasn't my error. That's where the letter stopped. This is confusing for a number of reasons. First, I don't know anyone from Scotland, nor am I even sure what an ethnic minority in Scotland would be. Someone who isn't wearing a kilt? Second, I have never, and won't ever write an enlightening article. I mean, come on, I'm not Tom Wolfe, for Christ's sake.

If I were Tom Wolfe, you'd probably be asleep by the time you got this far in the article.

Let's move on to the angry, insulting letters. And who better for such things than Dan, our own superfan from Duluth, Minn. Dan read and shook his fists angrily at the column where I announced the beer contest (Column 92, July 19, "A Column for People Who Like Beer"). In this column, I also wrongly quoted lines from the movie The Shawshank Redemption. Apparently, Dan didn't realize that I did it on purpose. Yet another reason why proof of evolution is merely a pipe dream.

Morgan Freeman said that quote. Andy Dufresne (Tim Robbins) was hunkered down against the wall while they were drinking. Also, since Red (Freeman) was the narrator, I would think that would have been obvious, you numbskull.

Let me ask you a question, Dan. Would this column be any fun if I actually took the time to research my topics before blindly posting them across the internet? No. It would be dull and boring, like the Drudge Report. Just face it, Dan, facts are lame. Everything fun in life comes because of blatant lies and bathroom humor.

This is why people never have fun at church. If the pastor just skipped the "God" stuff, predicted everyone's future like a fortune teller and lighted his own flatulence while standing on the pulpit, I and countless other agnostics would attend every week. And we'd come back on Wednesdays, too.

Our next letter comes from Nikki of Maplewood, Minn. Nikki saw the picture from the Photo Special of the Week where I gave blood. Let's all read her bitter comments with glee:

Enjoyed the pic of you giving blood, although seeing you in something other than a T-shirt and jeans was a bit of a shocker . . . you looked IRONED, for fuck's sake.

Sorry you didn't like my choice of attire, Nikki, but the lingerie you sent me in the mail was too small. I wear a b-cup, thank you very much.

Our next letter is the sexiest letter of all. Why? Because it's all about Bill Cosby and pudding pops, that's why. Here to spread the puddin' around is Jess from Duluth, Minn.

I think you should really let the world know that jello pudding pops are needed! Especially since Bill Cosby is going to be at the Hinkley casino, like, tomorrow the 4th! You should go down there and tell him so. I'm counting on you Paul.

Sorry Jess. I would have loved going to Hinkley to heckle Bill Cosby ("Hey, Bill! Hey BILL!!! Do the scene from The Cosby Show when you find out Theo is dyslexic!"), but I was stuck here, covering a Catholic church's carnival. Yes. I know. And no, I don't want to talk about it.

Finally, we have a message from Randy in Superior, Wis. Randy lives in a fine location. Obviously, he realizes that drinkin' is better when done in Superior . . . and when you can head home safely without forking over $20 for a cab. In yesterday's column (Column 104, August 6, "The New York Times is a Big Piece of Crap"), I asked people to tell me who Abe Froman was. The answer, from Randy:

Abe Froman is the sausage king of Chicago.

Right you are, Randy. It was a lame reference to the movie Ferris Bueller's Day Off, which is a film that's now around 15 years old. This fact automatically qualifies me for the super dork club. You know you're jealous.