A Letter To The “Sassy” Minivan Lady

Dear “Sassy” Minivan Lady,

You know how much I hate to call your sassiness into question; I mean you best of all know how much it pains me. But facts are facts. And as evidenced by the picture above, your “sassy” argument just isn’t holding any water for me. Let’s review the salient points:

1. You’re driving a Plymouth Voyager minivan. You may have a driver’s license, but that right there is enough to get your sassy license revoked.

2. You cared enough about letting people know of your sassitude that you bought a magnet for your car that you walked over and stuck on…upside-down? Minus 10 sassy points for being so damn slapdash about the whole thing. Get SERIOUS, you not-so-sassy mofo!

3. You have a “Support Our Troops” ribbon magnet also affixed to your Plymouth Voyager, but right side up! So you are capable of installing personality-revealing car adornments correctly! What happened with the other one?

Given the evidence clearly stated here, I regretfully say to you madam: you are a kind decent person. You support the troops. All of your brake lights are in working order. You are to be commended on any number of things.

But sassy you are not.

With warmest regards,

The International Council of Sass

A Letter To The Guy Who Keeps Screaming “Get In The Hole!” At Every Golf Tournament

Dear Guy Who Keeps Screaming “Get In The Hole!” At Every Golf Tournament,

Here’s what I like about you: you’re helpful. After all, if it wasn’t for you screaming “Get in the hole!” EVERY SINGLE GODDAMN TIME THAT SOMEONE HIT A GOLF BALL, who’s to say whether any of them would ever, in fact, get in the hole?

Why, if it weren’t for you, those golf players might have to rely on their natural abilities, their years of training, their expertly-crafted clubs and balls, their well-paid caddies, their trainers, their sports psychologists or the fact that they play golf every damn day to get the ball in the hole! But instead, they have you, which I think we can all agree is way better.

Now, sometimes after you scream “Get in the hole!” like a drunken, obnoxious jackass, the ball does NOT go into the hole. This might lead a lesser man to conclude, “Hmm, perhaps me screaming my face off does not have any direct correlation with whether or not the ball goes in the hole. Maybe the only thing my screaming is doing is annoying the shit out of the poor people standing around me trying to pay attention to the game, and therefore, I should shut my face so that everyone can enjoy their day. Also, I should maybe get treatment for my alcoholism.” But not you, buddy! Doesn’t matter who’s hitting the ball or when or at what hole or whether it’s a drive off the tee or a 12-foot putt – you’ll be there, screaming at that ball to get in the hole, because you have the Five P’s of Golf Spectatorship going strong: you’re Persistent. You Persevere. And you’re Probably Pretty Plastered.

With love from everyone,

Shut Your Face

Par-Tay This Weekend!

Dear Readers of This Here Site,

In case you haven’t heard and in case you’re going to be in Austin this weekend itching for a drink and with nothing better to do, come on down to Opa! on South Lamar this Sunday from 3-5pm. It’s the Letters To Buffoons Re-Launch Party! Music will be provided by Tanya Winch and The Dirty Mercy! Come get a drink and have a good time with us!

And…

CONTEST!

We will be having a contest titled “What’s Up With This Scuplture?” Whoever comes up with the best caption/backstory/quote to go with this sculpture:

What’s up with this sculpture?

Wins a fabulous prize! It’s going to be so much fun that you can hardly stand it!

Hope to see you there,

A.B.S.

A Letter To The Email List I Didn’t Sign Up To Be On That Is Now Sending Thrice-Daily Emails

 

Dear Email List I Didn’t Sign Up To Be On That Is Now Sending Thrice-Daily Emails,

“We noticed that you didn’t complete your order. Would you like to complete it now?”

No, and the only reason you have any such order is because I had to jump through a dozen hoops to find out how much your product costs, among them adding it to my cart and providing you with my email address. Also, when I entered in that email address, I unchecked the box that said, “Send me a bunch of crap I don’t need!” Which you do not seem to be taking to heart. What would happen to my inbox if I had checked that box? I shudder to think!

“Hello again! Just wanted to let you know that in addition to the fine product that you put in your cart but did not buy (which made us feel a little sad, but that’s OK, if that’s the kind of person you are), we ALSO offer this other fine product! Perhaps you would complete an order for THAT product instead and turn our frowns into happy faces? Visit our website now!”

UNSUBSCRIBE. Unsubscribeunsubscribeunsubscribe. Jeez, where is the button? Oh hell, am I going to have to log into the site and change my email settings manually? GAH! I hate this company!!!

“We’re sorry to see you go! We will miss you! We will think about you at night and keep you in our prayers forever, even as you discard us like a ketchup-covered used paper napkin at a Whataburger. Was it a mistake? Did you make a mistake? Did you not mean to unsubscribe from us? We’ll take you back! Yeah, maybe you can come back, and it’ll be like the good old days! You can finish purchasing that saved order, we can go out for a pizza and just laugh like we used to! We can be good again, I know it! WHY CAN’T YOU BELIEVE IN US?!?!?!?”

I am now going to mount a nationwide boycott campaign against you. I shall make it my personal mission to destroy you. If I had laser eyes, I would drive to your corporate headquarters and stare giant holes into it. CHILLAX ALREADY.

Sincerely yours,

Scratching My Inbox OCD Itch

 

 


 

A Letter To Readers Wondering Where The Hell I’ve Been For The Past Month

Dear Readers Wondering Where The Hell I’ve Been For The Past Month,

Hi! I’m back. I hope that you missed me; I missed you terribly and spent my nights crying into a pillow because you weren’t there. (Just kidding – I spent most of my nights falling asleep halfway through The Daily Show. LIKE A BOSS.)

As for my days, they were spent redesigning this website, which now looks new and pretty and has a relevant theme and stuff! I got into Photoshop and added some zazz and then some more zazz and then I wondered, is it too much zazz? And I decided yes, so I removed all of the sequins and glitter and unicorns and scaled WAY back on the zazz, and then after a VH1-Behind-the-Music-esque journey that included the requisite amount of substance abuse,* I saved as a JPG in Photoshop, and SHA-POW, here we are.

I hope you like it because I seriously spent a lot of time on it; I hope it moves you in such a way that you email me your PIN and bank account number and tell me to go nuts. Or you could just read and laugh, whatever, it’s up to you. I’m hoping to bring more visual content to the site, including animated videos, infographics and of course the letters you’ve all come to love so much. Also, there will be a few ads on the site because I gots to pay my mortgage, ya heard?

Also, social media! You can follow the site on Twitter at twitter.com/L2Buffoons. A Facebook page is in the works, and we’ll be jumping on whatever other misspelled social media startup comes along next (“It’s called Cork but with a Q at the beginning and end, and it’s a social networking site for wine drinkers who own dalmatians.”). I’ll try not to pester you for page likes or retweets or votes or “Qorqs Up” or +1s or whatnot because that shit makes me cray-cray, but if you could tell everyone you’ve ever met about how much this site has changed your life and made you a better person (it has, right?), that’d be just peachy with me.

All the love in the world,

A.B.S.

Chief Letterwriting Officer

*If by “substance abuse” you mean “tried out some new kale recipes,” then yes, that’s exactly what I did.

A Letter To Modern Dentistry

Dear Modern Dentistry,

I said that after the first of the year, I was going to book a dentist appointment. If I could just get through the holidays, I’d get right on that dentist thing afterwards.

Yeah, so now it’s February.

I know I need to make an appointment, but this would be a lot easier to do if you weren’t going to poke my gums until they bleed, you know? Sure, I haven’t taken expert care of my teeth; I brush the recommended amount but only floss intermittently and I haven’t been in a dentist chair for, let’s see…. Well, let’s not even think about that. So that’s on me. But the whole making my mouth hurt and bleed? I feel like that’s on you too!

First of all, you have to take x-rays, always with the x-rays, where I sit in a chair gagging on a giant piece of plastic as it slices into my gums. I am told not to move as you dose me with radiation. Seriously? This is how we’re going to start out?

Then you stick lots and lots of things into my mouth, several of which are made out of pointy metal. This just in: if you apply a sharp metal object to a soft human area, blood is a natural result. And bleeding is in most cases not good! SO WHY ARE YOU STABBING ME IN THE FACE?!?!?

And then there’s the drilling and buffing machines that, when applied to a person’s teeth, sound like they are coming from INSIDE THEIR SKULL. As it turns out, teeth are ATTACHED to the skull, which makes the whole thing rather unpleasant, as you might imagine.

Modern Dentistry, can we not do better than pointy metal and loud drills and me rubbing a string between my teeth? This is the future we’re living in, baby! Get inspired! You ought to be figuring out a way to point a laser at my mouth to make it magically clean and shiny instead of digging around in there like a prospector! How’s about it, Modern Dentistry – care to join us in the now?

Sincerely (From The Future!),

A Total Wuss

A Letter To Inconvenient Software Updates

Dear Inconvenient Software Updates,

Would I like to shut down my computer in the middle of doing six different things so I can get version 3.4.72.9811.05.67 of your software, which addresses the bug in Internet Explorer 4 where things don’t work very well because Internet Explorer 4 was invented sometime back in 642 B.C.?

Um, nope.

You see, Software Updates, no one likes you. No one enjoys when you rear your ugly little code-head. And no one cares what you have to say. Frankly, I’m surprised there’s not some kind of support group for you considering how lowly-regarded you are.

Look, I like having updated software; don’t get me wrong. I want new features! I want better performance! I want software developers to come up with awesome software and then sit around thinking of ways to make it even awesomer! I’m glad that people have jobs doing that; I’m glad that I have a job doing that! It’s great! But in designing elegant, cutting-edge Internet-y products, everyone seems to have forgotten that the process of updating the product sucks.

I’d like to make a deal with you, Software Updates: how about you just go on your merry way and update whatever the hell you feel like without me having to get involved? How about you figure out a way to run in the background without disrupting anything else I’m doing? And while you’re at it, can you put my laundry away once it’s done drying and show me how to teleport?

Thanks for everything, Software Updates. Now shut it.

Sincerely Yours,

Trying To Do OTHER THINGS