Are You Related To R. Kelly?

EDITOR'S NOTE: The Mailbag was inadvertently thrown into a river by Professor Max Banner, who mistook it for a subpoena. To make up for it, we sent Dave several Letters to the Editor from local newspapers across North America. Trouble is, we're not sure he understood that, so read his answers with caution.

Dear Editor,
Mayor Banks' call for a referendum on the water system is another example of big government bilking the taxpayer out of more money. Our water quality is fine the way it is. If people want it cleaner, they should buy it themselves instead of making everyone else pay more property tax. Same with schools, fire districts and health care. Get a job!
R. Tyler, New Jamestown, South Carolina

Dear R.,
Mr. Banks has championed several causes that we oppose behemontly here at LI. For instance, why is he always throwing Jazz out of the house? He just wants to come over and hang out. Also, he should just let Carlton be Carlton.
p.s. Are you related to R. Kelly?



Dear Editor,
Thank you for the wonderful article about Teresa Higgenbottom and her long fight with breast cancer. Teresa's story is inspiring to women everywhere and it brought a tear to my eye. I wish her all the best and hope she enjoys that ski trip!
Francine Judson, Clearing, South Dakota

Dear Francine,
I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this. But right after Ms. Higgenbottom won her grueling battle with cancer, she suffered a massive brain hemhorrage on the ski lift. She is survived by her goldfish Ludacris.



Dear Editor,
I was very disappointed by your references to President Bush's "ultraconservative judicial nominees" in the editorial page. The babykilling Left, led by that drunken draft-dodger Ted Kennedy, is trying to ram gay marriage, sexually explicit music and atheism down our throats. By nominating judges with strong Christian morals, the President is undoing the Left's perverted social agenda and using the government to do God's work. They are not ultraconservative, they are right- and should be confirmed immediately.
Dr. Gregory Pierce, Topeka, Kansas

Dear Gregory,
Huh. I didn't really know what articles those first two letter were about, and I definitely don't remember this one. I must have been trying to read them around noon, when I'm at my most drunk for the day. I know one time I spilled an entire highball of Chivas in my disk drive and I couldn't see shit on my monitor for like a week.



To the editors:
We here at New England Art Collective want to thank our many supporters as we approach our fifteenth anniversary. It has been an interesting journey to say the least, but we are still going strong and are proudly bringing painting, dance, classical music and photography to New England at an affordable price. We have met many wonderful art lovers and are looking forward to our next fifteen years serving New England!
J. Dennis Postlebill, Creative Director, New England Art Collective

Dear, uh, J.,
Yeah, I definitely don't know what this is about either. I've never heard of the New England Art Collective. And why do all these letters say "Dear Editor?" No one's ever called me "Editor" before. The guy at Denny's called me a "prison bitch" once, but at least I knew what he was talking about.



Editors:
To the person who wrote in last week saying that UFO watchers are "crackpots," let me say this: if there aren't any UFO's, then how come I saw one when I was stationed in northern Nevada during the 1960's? It was real, and believe me I'm no crackpot. The real crackpots are people that can't accept the truth- that we aren't alone, and that someone is trying to hush it all up, along with crop circles, MIBs and Stonehenge. Check the Internet if you don't believe me. Then we'll see who's the crackpot, my friend.
Dan (last name withheld), Somewhere in Saskatchewan

Dear Dan,
That's it. Yes, I've been drinking for probably three hours now, but it takes a lot more than a flask of whiskey before I can't tell what going on anymore. And I don't know what's going on anymore. The last time I was this confused, I went to this carnival and threw up on the ferris wheel. It wasn't so much the motion as it was the fact that I was soaking my cotton candy in rubbing alcohol I bought from an Osco across the street. But anyway, I throw up from, like, the top thing on the ferris wheel. And it lands all over a cop. Can you believe the luck? So I can't run anywhere, cause I'm on a ferris wheel. So he's looking around for the puker, and I decide I have to think fast. I tell this kid in the thing behind me about this time I saw a homeless guy eat an anthill and when he sneezed ants came out his nose. This kid hears this and he pukes, bingo, right in front of the cop. Kid gets an LAPD-style elbow in his back and I go drink in the van the rest of the day. What was I supposed to be talking about again?