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A ‘Red’ letter day

Dear Apothic Red,

Thank you so much for saving my sanity this quarter. Without you, I might be balled up and slobbering on the floor of my office. Well, more than usual.

I remember when we first met, just a few short weeks ago. I was looking for Cupcake Red Velvet when the Publix wine dude suggested I try you instead. I like to keep my options open, so I took both of you home with me. (You and Cupcake, that is, not you and the wine dude.)

That afternoon, I needed to be outside in the back yard with the children, so I had to take you to go. My first sip was an injustice to your carefully crafted zest. Yet even swigged from the contours of my blue Solo cup, you tasted divine. I reveled in the dance of a thousand flavors as I listened to the gentle sounds of playtime:

Mama! He threw a stick at me!
Well, he did it first!
I did not!
He did too!
Did not!
(etc.)

Thanks to you, Apothic Red, I was able to tune out this chatter and focus on something more important: the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly.

Thanks to you, I could later deaden the pain of having to give a great student a B in a class where he/she would have earned an A had he/she just followed the assignment directions.

Thanks to you, I managed to silence the screaming, stressed-out voices in my head who were trying to prevent me from ticking off the 4,322 items on my to-do list.

You (and your subsequent copies) have brought me much joy and peace over the past month. I can’t thank you enough.

Hope to see you soon!

Your friend,
Beth

Letter to a flasher

Dear Girl in Micro Skirt Going Up the Stairs Ahead of Me,

What I have seen I cannot unsee. I can now definitively state that you are a girl. I did not really need to know this for sure.

I worry that you don’t have a mirror. Even if you don’t have a mirror, you should have been able to feel the gentle breeze wafting over your lady bits as you climbed the stairs.

Are you truly unaware of your exposure? Or is this a calculated attempt to get attention?

If it is the former, then I’d like to suggest that you examine your back view in a mirror (buy one if you don’t have one). Bend over. There you go.

If it is the latter, then I am, perhaps, the wrong audience. Perhaps you should wait for the right audience before you ascend the stairs.

Maybe you like having a saucy secret (“Oooh, I’m a rebel; I’m not wearing underpants!”). But it isn’t a secret anymore if everybody knows.

Maybe it is laundry day. In that case, I recommend making a load of delicates a priority.

Please consider the eyes of others.

Scarred for life,
Beth

Dear Camera Crews Covering the Redneck Games:

Thank you for taking such an interest in the annual Redneck Games in Dublin, Ga. You represented a variety of media, including local (Macon’s WMAZ) and international (the UK’s Daily Mail).

Unfortunately for you, the organizers moved the event from the usual second weekend of July to Memorial Day Weekend. Whereas there are usually hundreds of people sweating in the Georgia heat, this time there were only a hundred. Maybe. Including the vendors and organizers.

It must have been tough for you to do your job, considering the ratio of attendees to you was about 3 to 1. You shot everything that moved and wore a Dixie flag.

If you were seeking authenticity, though, I have news for you: Most of the people who captured your lens were redneck posers.

For example, real rednecks wouldn’t wear an American flag like a cape.

Real rednecks don’t wear fake rat tails.

Real rednecks don’t have fake mullets.

Real rednecks don’t wear duct-tape bras (especially with carefully sliced cut-offs).  (She was wearing Birkenstocks, by the way.)

Real rednecks don’t wear Confederate Flag dresses. (My friend Ida looks cute, though.)

Real rednecks don’t wear boxers and jacked-up Nike socks.

Real rednecks don’t jump in the mud pit just to be on camera.

There were very few real rednecks at the redneck games. What you saw was, essentially, a Potemkin village.

If you knew Southern culture, you’d be able to spot the real deal.

For example, real rednecks drink their Bud while hanging out in a half-shirt by the trash.

Real rednecks know how to set up camp.

And rednecks-in-training enjoy their first time bobbin’ for pigs’ feet.

I hope that this field guide will help you spot the knockoffs next time.

Sweating with Southern pride,
Beth

Letter to ATL overlord

Dear Louis Miller,

Congratulations on opening the new international terminal at Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport. As general manager, you must be very proud.

I’m sure it took the involvement and commitment of many people to make the new terminal a reality.

May I recommend adding one more person to that team? Perhaps a proofreader?

Photo courtesy of Steve Barnes

I mean, Atlanta and the airlines sunk $1.4 billion into the four-year project. Surely, everyone could have spent just a little more money and time making sure to spell “transportation” correctly. Really, it’s not spelled the way many Atlantans pronounce it. I promise.

The South already battles the reputation that it is the Land of IdiotsRecent behavior doesn’t help. Please don’t add fuel to this fire. Please fix the sign.

Congratulations again on the fine achievement, and I look forward to using the new terminal.

Sincerely,
Beth

Letter to heathens

Dear Godless Redditors,

Thank you so much for reading my post about same-sex marriage. Before last Tuesday, I didn’t even believe you existed.

After a friend of mine submitted a link to my work to your group on Reddit, you visited the post in droves.

I posted that item Monday night. Before I went to bed, 80 people had read it. I slept the sleep of the simply dead and nothing more.

The next morning, an additional 100 or so had read the post. That afternoon when I checked the stats (I can be obsessive), I nearly soiled myself in shock when I saw the count was up to 1,300.

My best day prior to this had been 316 readers. It was the day the chicken died.

But thanks to you, Tuesday, May 15, became a hallmark day for me.

I am concerned, though, that some of you may not have gotten the joke. (BonoAnnie, I’m looking at you. Russell, we’ve already talked.)

It’s OK, though. I still enthusiastically welcome all of you as readers. I do want you to know, however, that I don’t usually mock the Bible. Instead, I assault people who mangle the English language. Or I write about rednecks. Or parasites. Or parasitic rednecks with grammar issues. (Not really, but it could happen.)

I just want you to know what you are getting. I know how you appreciate knowledge.

Also, I don’t usually write letters. But have faith, ye of no faith: Using this convention is going to help me stave off my persistent writer’s block.

I hope you will keep reading.

Yours in secularism,
Beth

Dear Dad*,

I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is you’ll be able to see your grandsons more than once a year because we are not moving to Saudi Arabia.

The bad news is that Eddie and I are divorcing (which is OK under Deut. 22:13-21 because, well …). In the course of our research into how we should be behaving, we realized that we shouldn’t be married at all (Ezra 9:1-2). I had no idea I wasn’t supposed to marry a foreigner (and those Puerto Ricans are most definitely foreign to me). Plus, the Apostle Paul specifically states that light should not have fellowship with darkness (2 Corinthians 6:14). You’ve seen Eddie.

As it turns out, gay marriage does indeed lead to a Pandora’s box of heinousness such as group marriage, pedophilia and bestiality.

In our case, just talking about it led to this:

He says her name is Michelle and they are very happy together. I’m devastated, of course, but putting on a brave front for the kids’ sake (our kids, not hers).

Thanks for your support in this difficult time.

Love,
Beth

* Clarification (I can’t believe I need to provide one): This post and the preceding one are completely satirical. Please don’t send me hate mail.

Dear Dad,

I hope you and Katherine are doing well. Eddie and I are fine, except we are going to have to move. Now that President Obama is “leading a war on traditional marriage,” we are investigating other countries to inhabit. (I am so glad Rush Limbaugh pointed out Obama’s transgressions to us. You know we look to him for advice because of his four traditional marriages’ worth of experience.)

Unfortunately, developed countries such as Belgium, Canada, Spain, Sweden and the Netherlands are out as they also support the abomination that is a union between two people who love each other. I mean two people who love each other who are also of the same gender, of course. The horror!

Like our friends in North Carolina, we certainly cannot condone that unnatural behavior. Leviticus 18:22 clearly states that someone cannot have sexual relations with a man as one does with a woman. Despite the fact that appears to be good news for lesbians, we understand the intent.

I want you to know that Eddie and I also plan to abide by other passages of Leviticus. For example, we’re going to make sure we eat the leftover sacrifices on the first or second day. We had no idea that the sacrifices became impure on Day Three (Lev. 19:27). Eddie knows he can’t eat any of the offerings until he gets rid of that nasty Athlete’s foot (Lev. 22:4).

Also, I may have taken the Lord’s name in vain, so Eddie has told Shirtless George next door that he can gather a posse of fellow Shriners and stone me to death (Lev. 24:16). No one can prove that I did it, though, so I may be OK. We do plan to have a word with Mrs. Hope on Victory Drive, however. She clearly doesn’t realize that she is flirting with a stoning of her own (Lev. 20:27).

The good news is that we are going to have help moving because we can buy some people (Lev. 25:45). We also have plenty of places to choose from for our new home. Much of Africa and the Middle East have varying penalties for homosexuality.

I hear Saudi Arabia is nice this time of year, and they have the sense to have the death penalty to punish the gays. Of course, I won’t be able to drive there. If we women could drive, of course, it would “provoke a surge in prostitution, pornography, homosexuality and divorce.” We can’t have that. (And I’m sure I’ll get used to wearing an abaya.)

We’ll miss you and Katherine, Dad, but you know we just can’t have the gays running around and being happy together, let alone paying taxes and expecting equal treatment.

I know this sounds different from what I’ve said in the past, but I’ve seen the error of my ways. Thanks to Fox Nation, Pat Buchanan and Rush, of course, Eddie and I now realize that the gays are destroying our marriage (and here I thought it was all the time I spent ignoring him when I was working on my dissertation). During this dark time for heterosexual marriage, we now know that we must look to beacons of hope such as Kim Kardashian and Kris Humphries, Newt Gingrich, and, of course, Rush himself to educate us on how traditional marriage is supposed to work.

If Saudi Arabia doesn’t work out, there’s always the Moon. Newt won’t allow a bunch of gays up there, I’m sure. I know he’s out of the race for 2012, but there’s always hope for 2016.

Love always,
Beth

New media is among the subjects I teach. And, because the whole joy/purpose of new media is sharing information, links, memes (Hey Girl!), etc., this means my “research” includes watching viral videos.

Wait until you see what video one kind person shared with me.

I’ve already watched it 10 times.

It’s about Shia LaBeouf. Why him? Because I’m not shy about making it known that he often rotates into my Top Three*.

(Blake Shelton recently took his place.)

So, without further ado, here’s the video (drum roll, please!):

* The “Get Out of Marriage Free” card. Mine (today): Johnny Depp, Chris Hemsworth (as Thor) and Blake Shelton. Eddie’s: Kate Winslet, Penelope Cruz and Salma Hayek. If we happen to run into these folks, all bets are off and no strings attached.

Dear AP:

I don’t know if I can continue in this relationship. I trusted you, but you betrayed me with that trollop, “hopefully.” You know how I feel about that word. How could you do this to me?

Your change of heart was swift — much quicker than your decisions about “email” and “website.” How long did you go on defending yourself about those two, even when the whole world used the form you finally adopted? Everyone knew you would cave eventually. But “hopefully” was, sadly, a blindside. At least for me.

You might say, “The whole world used ‘hopefully’ to mean ‘I hope’ or ‘It is hoped,’ so what’s the big deal?” You and I both know that there is a huge difference between deleting a hyphen (“e-mail”) and accepting a word used improperly. Just because everyone uses it the wrong way doesn’t mean it is OK.

I held you to a high standard. I badgered students in my classes to learn your mysterious ways or face certain peril, grade-wise. Now I just don’t know if I can continue to cite you, to force adherence, to claim allegiance.

You are a sellout. I’m so disappointed in you. I’m not the only one who feels this way.

It’s been two weeks and I’m still not even close to being over this stab to the back of good grammar. It will take time. It may not happen at all.

I hope you understand.

Sincerely,

Beth
Your Former No. 1 Fan

P.S. Of course, you can make it all better and say it was just a joke. Please say you were just kidding.

Going beyond blackjack

Thinking of going to Vegas? Looking for something other (cheaper) than Celine and casinos? Check out Beth’s Vegas Guide for Weirdos Like Her.

1. Take a sweet limo from the airport.

2. Get married (remarried, renewed, whatever) in the cheesiest way possible.

3. Play a round of miniature golf with KISS (replicas, of course).

4. Enjoy an evening of “Absinthe” — a mix of comedy and Cirque du Soleil.

These two are on roller skates.

5. Listen to a band like Squeeze at the House of Blues.

6. Watch the dancing fountain at the Bellagio.

7. Show your love for your friends outside their hotel room door. (Thanks, Royce and Sarah!)

8. Eat at delightfully tacky restaurants such as the Peppermill.

9. Go to one of the billion sex shops and marvel at the wares.

10. Wait for an hour for the shuttle back to your hotel because someone doesn’t want to walk. Watch people walk up and down the strip.

11. Take pictures of all the entrepreneurs in their get-ups.

12. Take photos of your friends in front of interesting signs.

13. Copyedit signs.

Is spelling it that way supposed to be a joke?

Should be "girls who want to meet you."

14. Bask in the glow of the city’s neon.

15. Keep your mouth shut about all your adventures. (I have, more or less.)

Safe travels!