Dear Mr. Angelis,

First of all, we on the Newbery Committee would like to congratulate you on the success of your recent novel, “Zeus in Sneakers.” Many of us were deeply moved by your poignant portrait of life as a Greek-American teen in the late ’60s, with one member going so far as to call it “the most real and authentic portrayal of the post-immigrant experience in America that I’ve ever read.” Obviously, we believe your book to be of real merit to America’s children, and would love to give you our endorsement by presenting you with this year’s Newbery Medal. There’s just one problem with your book, Mr. Angelis, one oversight we’re hoping we can convince you to correct: it features absolutely no dead dogs that teach kids that they, too, will one day die.

I recently glanced at a review of men’s fashion in the New York Times and I thought, “That’s total bullshit. I don’t know a single man who wears a “snowflake-embroidered topcoat, loose trousers and a logo cardigan.” I’ve never seen a single one of my friends wearing “a Mylar suit with elastic cuffs, worn with rubberized canvas boots.” In order to bring into existence a fashion review that more closely squares with what middle-aged men actually wear, I’ve created this short list of the most reliable fashion choices for middle-aged men this year.

According to my mother, my birth was a horrible shriek-inducing and blood-letting ordeal that lasted all night and into the next day, adding up to twelve hours of torture for her. But you couldn’t prove it by me. Maybe a bit of Mom’s epidural got to my infantile cortex, but I have no recollection of any part of the event. It just blew right past me. If I had to compare it to anything, I’d say my birth most resembled a coma for its lack of noticeable features. Not that I’ve ever been in a coma (the closest I’ve come is breaking into a locked car with my forehead and then drinking a six-pack), but I’ve heard it’s a non-event if there is one, at least for the unconscious party. And if my mother were honest, I think she’d have to say my birth wasn’t all that memorable for her either, especially since she died last week.

Jill

As per our conversation, yesterday, 13th February 2011, I am sending this e-mail to provide guidance and clarification, as to the untenable state of our relationship. It was agreed in said conversation, that it was mutually beneficial for both parties; i.e. you (herein referred to as “Jill”) and I (herein referred to as “Jack”), to sever and thereby cease our current relationship, forthwith on the 14th February 2011.

Could God make a rock so heavy He couldn’t lift it?

Does God ever get tired of people wondering whether or not He could make a rock like that? Does God ever say, “Let Me just make this heavy rock and then lift it so people finally shut up about it”?

How quickly could God sell out Madison Square Garden if He agreed to make and lift the rock in front of thousands of fans/gamblers? My friend’s band–they’re called Old Boner–could open for Him.