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[On Thursday, August 14, Marcel Proust, Ernest Hemingway, Jack Keuroac, and Emily Dickinson will be reading at Galápagos in Brooklyn, most hipsterest of all boroughs, with music by Cab Calloway. The event begins at 7 p.m. and costs $5.]

[If you have not read Middle East Gawker, then you may do so now.]

[If you have not yet entered our Contest Contest, you are in luck: There is still time. Enter now.]

[That is all.]

[Enjoy.]

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A N   O P E N   L E T T E R   T O
M c S W E E N E Y ' S ,
A N   E N T I T Y
U N L I K E L Y   T O   R E S P O N D

BY YANKEE POT ROAST


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Dear McSwys,

You fine folks have perfected the art of medium-funny; that is, stating the obvious, the boring, the banal, the unimportant, and the uninteresting with a straight face, and insisting you are serious, you are not joking, you are honestly stating as such. And therein lies the "joke." This is a unique brand of whimsical irony: the joke that is only funny to its teller. Somehow, you've parlayed this non-attempt at non-humor into a singular success that rivals, well, some obscure high-brow reference that, too, is serious. You've really stepped in shit, you lucky, lucky dogs.

McSwys, you call for glaringly unironic submissions from your dear readers. Historically, your responses (and by "responses," I mean "rejections") come at a glacial pace, despite the fact that they are delivered via electronic mail, which is not instantaneous, but awfully close. Therefore, the delay is of human origin. We assume this is done intentionally, to keep in line with your theme of indifferent, unaffected indifference. Good show!

With your recent "relaunch," however, you've seemingly 180ed; you now deliver boring, pretentioius horseshit, but appear to be smiling while doing so. That is our game, buddy. For example, you've added a department to your Web site calling for open letters to people or entities who are unlikely to respond. You should know, McSwys, that the bulk of these people or entities are likely to respond. We have, in fact, been addressing insipid letters to people and/or entities for quite some time now (okay, only six months, but still) and some of them actually do respond. Many of them even employ individuals with the sole responsibility of answering letters received from the general populace. To earn a reply, though, you will need sufficient postage. Surely you, McSwys, can afford more stamps than we, as you earn an income from publishing books, and we lose money because we buy the aforementioned books from you. Well, this very note is an open letter to you, McSwys, as you are an entity most unlikely to respond. I suppose there may be some post-modern, self-aware, circular, meta, nonironic irony to be found in that unique situation. We're not sure; that's your game, after all. But writing letters to strangers is ours*. Back off, McSwys.

Sincerely,

Yankee Pot Roast
New York City, NY

[Enclosures: numerous open letters to people or entities extremely unlikely to respond.]

* We stole it from numerous sources. Our inspirations range from Ted L. Nancy's hilarious epistolary canon, "Letters from a Nut," to the Jerky Boys' prankful telephone calls, to that one time during U2's Zoo TV tour where Bono (in his "the Fly"/God days) called for a pizza to be delivered to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Question authority, McSwys. Question.

 

 

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A N   O P E N   L E T T E R
T O   B L A C K   D O T
D E N O T I N G   N E W I S H
C O N T E N T

Dear Black Dot Denoting Newish Content,

I hope you're adjusting to all the changes well, Black Dot. Used to be, I'd look for you faithfully most weekday mornings, and together, we would explore what was exciting and new(ish). We'd laugh sometimes, we'd cry, we'd swap stories of the good old times… sometimes we'd simply sit there quietly enjoying one other's company.

But lately, Black Dot, you seem sad and gloomy. Blacker than usual. You've been just moping around for weeks. Is it because Red Dot Denoting Content That Is New Today is here? I know it seems like that Johnny-come-lately is hogging all the glory. And I, too, am guilty of following Red Dot instead of you. But do not be sad, Black Dot. Do not think I have forgotten you. If I visit Red Dot first, it is only because I'm trying to be fair and courteous to the newcomer. There are still bound to be plenty of times when I've been otherwise occupied and missed some new content denoted by Red Dot. And, of course, I'll naturally look to you for what I may have missed. But, please, do not hate me for hanging out with Red Dot. I just like what's new, that's all.

We'll always have McSweeney's-Related Events and Various Tour Dates.

Sincerely,
YPR

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A N   O P E N   L E T T E R
T O   T H E   L O O S E
F L O O R B O A R D   I N   M Y
G R A N D M O T H E R ' S
S I T T I N G   R O O M

Dear Loose Floorboard in My Grandmother's Sitting Room,

Damn! Why you so creaky and shit?

Sincerely,
YPR

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A N   O P E N   L E T T E R
T O   T H E   D I C E   A T
C R A P S   T A B L E   # 1 2 ,
B A L L Y ' S   C A S I N O ,
L A S   V E G A S ,   N E V A D A

Dear Dice at Craps Table #12, Bally's Casino, Las Vegas, Nevada,

Come on. Daddy needs a new pair of shoes.

Regards,
YPR

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A N   O P E N   L E T T E R
T O   M T .   M c K I N L E Y

Dear Mount McKinley,

Could you settle a bet for me? My roommate says that you are the highest point in North America. I say that you finished 2nd Runner-Up as Alaska's representative in the 1986 Miss America pageant. There's a dinner at Papa John's riding on this.

Thanks,
YPR

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A N   O P E N   L E T T E R
T O   T H E   " G "   S E C T I O N
O F   M Y   R O L O D E X

Dear "G" Section of My Rolodex,

Hey, how's Gary? Still working at Merrill Lynch? Good for him. Say hi to Gwen for me.

Sincerely,
YPR

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A N   O P E N   L E T T E R
T O   C H A N N E L   3 5
O N   M A N H A T T A N ' S
T I M E   W A R N E R   C A B L E

Dear Channel 35 on Manhattan's Time Warner Cable,

I'm no freak or deviant. I'm simply a man who enjoys the sight of bared female breasts and thinly veiled pornography. You provide both and you do so for free at 10 p.m. 10 p.m.! Fine quality entertainment, at no cost to me. Now we're talking!

You also advertise phone numbers to escort services, which is just dandy. If I ever need to, um, "clear the chambers," I have an outlet. Is there anything better than you? No. No, there isn't.

Yours,
YPR

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A N   O P E N   L E T T E R
T O   S I R I U S ,
T H E   D O G   S T A R

Dear Sirius, the Dog Star,

Stop winking at me! I'm not going to go out with you! Nothing personal, but I've already dated three swirling masses of ultra-hot hydrogen, and each of those relationships ended ugly. Besides, I'm in love with your sister, Polaris. I'm sorry.

Sinferely,
YPR

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A N   O P E N   L E T T E R
T O   D A Y L I G H T   S A V I N G S

Dear Daylight Savings,

Isn't it about time you stopped screwing up the internal body clocks of everybody in America? You've long since served your purpose and now have worn out your welcome. We don't need extra daylight anymore. We've got 60-watt light bulbs. Piss off, dude.

Finferely,
YPR

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A N   O P E N   L E T T E R
T O   T H E   B L A C K
D O T   O N   M Y   T H I G H

Dear Black Dot on My Thigh,

Um, what are you, exactly? Should I see a doctor or something? You're kind of freakin' me out, just a little bit. I scrubbed and you're still there, so you're not ink or dirt or anything like that. I picked at you with tweezers, and yet you're still there, so whatever you are, you're resilient. Now, I know that Black Dot Denoting Newish Content denotes newish content, but what do you denote, Black Dot on My Thigh? I can only think of bad things. I really don't want concentrate on you anymore, because I'm prone to fitful panic attacks when forced to contemplate my own mortality. So, please, just tell me if I should see a doctor, or if you're gonna go away on your own.

Panic-stricken,
YPR

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A N   O P E N   L E T T E R
T O   I N T O L E R A B L E   E N N U I

Dear Intolerable Ennui,

There's nothing to do. Are we just going to sit here writing increasingly lame letters to inanimate objects and abstract concepts? We need something, anything, more productive to waste our time with. Look at all those jigsaw puzzles up there on the top shelf of the closet. They're just sitting there, collecting dust. We're never going to try putting one together, are we? No, no, of course we won't. If only, Intolerable Ennui, you weren't such good friends with Abject Apathy and Crippling Depression, perhaps we could really do something worthwhile.

Sincerelyf,
YPR

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A N   O P E N   L E T T E R
T O   " A N   O P E N   L E T T E R   T O
M c S W E E N E Y ' S ,
A N   E N T I T Y
U N L I K E L Y
T O   R E S P O N D "

Dear "An Open Letter to McSweeney's,"

You are so bitter and full of vitriol. It's all pretty senseless and rather unbecoming of you. And, really, a parody? Is that the best you can do? Parodies are for Mad Magazine. You're better than that. Stop wasting time with piss-poor parodies, and get back to writing what you love (and, frankly, is the only thing you are particularly good at): hate-mongering propaganda. There isn't enough decent mongering of any kind in the literary scene anymore. Now sit down at your IBM Selectric and pound out some good monger, will you? Monger! Monger!

Insincerely,
YPR

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A N   O P E N   L E T T E R
T O   O V E R K I L L

Dear Overkill,

You sure know how to beat a dead horse, huh? Longest windbag rant ever.

Fuck off,
YPR

OTHER McSWEENEY'S HORSESHIT:
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A Really Long Title, to Be Referred to Henceforth Only by Its Initials By Dave Eggers
25 TV-Commercial Jingles I Can't Get Out of My Head By Nick Hornby
The Mysteries and Wonders of Chabon By Michael Chabon
Being Dave By Lucy Thomas
McSwys Pretentious Horseshit Volume 12: Bigger and Blacker By McSweeney's

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MAIN PAGE   |   ARCHIVES


Red dot denotes content that is new today.

Black dot denotes newish content.

McSWEENEY'S PRETENTIOUS HORSESHIT-RELATED
EVENTS AND VARIOUS TOUR DATES


McSWEENEY'S RECOMMENDS YOUNG AUTHORS THAT
WE'VE TAKEN UNDER OUR WINGS SO THAT
THEY MAY, SOMEDAY, LEARN THE WAYS OF
PRETENTION AND OF HORSESHIT


REVIEWS OF THINGS I'VE EATEN,
AND WHETHER OR NOT THEY'VE AGREED WITH ME


JOURNAL ENTRIES FROM CHESTER,
THE HOBO WHO LIVES UNDER THE GRAND CENTRAL PARKWAY


DEAR PRESIDENT FILLMORE LETTERS

McSWEENEY'S BRAIN EXPLODER,
A NIFTY GIMMICK THAT YOU DO NOT FULLY GRASP


WINNING LOTTERY NUMBERS FOR
THE LOCAL LOTTERIES OF FINLAND, DENMARK, AND NORWAY


LISTS OF ITEMS, WRITTEN BY LISTMAKERS

SHORT STORIES WRITTEN BY ALL THE NEW FRIENDS
DAVE HAS MADE NOW THAT HE'S A BIG SHOT


THINGS THAT ARE NOT WHAT THEY SEEM TO BE

THINGS THAT ARE WHAT THEY SEEM TO BE

THINGS THAT MAY OR MAY NOT BE WHAT THEY SEEM,
BUT SMELL PRETTY RIGHT AFTER THEY SHOWER


ONE-JOKE GAGS THAT RUN ENTIRELY TOO LONG

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CARDS WRITTEN TO CELEBRITIES WISHING THEM HAPPY BIRTHDAYS

CURRENT CARD TO A CELEBRITY WHOSE BIRTHDAY IS BEING CELEBRATED TODAY

(MOSTLY) DAILY PIECES OF FICTION

INFREQUENT FEATURES

LETTERS TO PEOPLE OR ENTITIES WHO ARE UNLIKELY TO RESPOND, YET SOMETIMES DO, IN FACT, RESPOND

ADDITIONAL MATERIAL FOR FURTHER READING

GEOFF WOLINETZ'S FRUIT SALAD

NICK JEZARIAN'S GUFF

JOSH ABRAHAM'S WHAT'S UP WITH THAT?

SUBMISSION GUIDELINES

CONTACT US

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ADDITIONAL MATERIAL

That is all.