All hail Timothy B. Tieslau, King of Rants

[shereads]

Cleaning out old files, I found this precious document I thought I'd lost. It was given to me by a friend of a friend of a friend who used to work at Shell Oil, and who swore the letter was genuine. You can tell it's quite old by the prices of gasoline and tires. But the rant itself is timeless; a treasure trove of righteous ire.

I picture the author, Mr. Timothy B. Tieslau, composing his letter on the verandah of the family manse and sipping bourbon on the rocks. Despite the oppressive heat, he is wearing a sport jacket. I imagine he dislikes the blue tick coon hound asleep at his feet, and animals in general, because they smell bad and drool. But he tolerates the dog for the sake of his elderly aunts. He is a confirmed bachelor.

October 6, 1970​

Director
Billing Department
Shell Oil Company
P.O. Box 150
Tulsa, Oklahoma

Dear Sir,

I have been a regular customer of the Shell Oil Company for several years now, and spend approximately $40 per month on Shell products. Until recently, I have been completely satisfied with the quality of Shell products and with the service of Shell employees.

Included in my most recent statement from your department was a bill for $12 for a tire which I purchased at the Lowell I. Reels Shell Station in McAdenville, North Carolina. I stopped at this station for gasoline and to have a timing malfunction corrected. The gasoline cost $5.15; eight new plugs cost $9.30; labor on the points cost $2.50. All well and good. Earlier in the day I had had a flat tire, which the attendant at the Lowell I. Reels station informed me that he was unable to fix. He suggested that I purchase a tire from him in order that I have a spare for the remainder of my journey to Atlanta. I told him that I preferred to buy tires from my home station in Atlanta, bur he continued to stress the risk of driving without a spare. My reluctance to trade with an unknown dealer, even a Shell dealer, did not discourage him and finally, as I was leaving, he said that, out of concern for my safety (my spare was not new) and because I had made a substantial expenditure at his station, he would make me a special deal. He produced the tire ("Hits a good one. Still has the tits on it. See them tits. Hits a twenty dollar tar.") which I purchased for twelve dollars and which he installed on the front left side for sixty-five cents. Fifty miles further down the highway, I had a blowout.

Not a puncture which brought a slow, flapping flat, nor a polite ladyfinger-firecracker rubberbubble rupture (pop), but a full, howitzer blowout, which reared the hood of the car up up into my face, a blowout, sir, which tore a flap of rubber from this "tar" large enough to make soles for both sandals of a medium sized hippie. In a twinkling, then, I was driving down Interstate 85 at sixty miles per hour on three tires and one rim with rubber clinging to it in desperate shreds and patches, an instrument -- that bent, revolving, steel-then-rubber-then-steel rim -- whose sound can best be approximated by the simultaneous placing of a handful of gravel and a young duck into a Waring Blender.

The word "careen" does no justice whatever to the movement that the car then performed. According to the highway patrolman's report, the driver in the adjoining lane, the left lane -- who, incidentally, waas attempting to pass at the time -- ejaculated adrenalin all over the ceiling of his car. My own passengers were fused into a featureless quaver in the key of "G" in the back seat of my car. The rim was bent, the tits were gone, and you can fuck yourself with a cream cheese dildo if you entertain for one moment the delusion that I intend to pay the twelve dollars.

Sincerely yours,

Timothy B. Tieslau

Timothy B. Tiesleu, wherever you are, thank you. Someday, I hope to compose a rant half as stunning as yours.

Your fan forever,

~ shereads

P.S. Did Shell make you pay the twelve dollars?

 

[drksideofthemoon]

Cleaning out old files, I found this precious document I thought I'd lost. It was given to me by a friend of a friend of a friend who used to work at Shell Oil, and who swore the letter was genuine. You can tell it's quite old by the prices of gasoline and tires. But the rant itself is timeless; a treasure trove of righteous ire.

I picture the author, Mr. Timothy B. Tieslau, composing his letter on the verandah of the family manse and sipping bourbon on the rocks. Despite the oppressive heat, he is wearing a sport jacket. I imagine he dislikes the blue tick coon hound asleep at his feet, and animals in general, because they smell bad and drool. But he tolerates the dog for the sake of his elderly aunts. He is a confirmed bachelor.


Timothy B. Tiesleu, wherever you are, thank you. Someday, I hope to compose a rant half as stunning as yours.

Your fan forever,

~ shereads

P.S. Did Shell make you pay the twelve dollars?

OMG...I am dying here...this line made my sides hurt...large enough to make soles for both sandals of a medium sized hippie

Thanks for a great laugh...that has to rank as one of the more priceless letters I have ever read....

 

[Stella_Omega]

"Adrenaline" - I've never heard it called that!

What an eloquent man.

 

[shereads]

I am tempted to try just the last line of the letter on one of my creditors:

Dear Florida Power and Light,

You can fuck yourselves with a cream cheese dildo if you entertain for one moment the delusion that I will pay this month's electricity bill.

If it works, I'll be richer by $189 and I'll have saved them several minutes of reading time.

 

[rgraham666]

Wonderful. Something every disgruntled consumer should strive for.

 

[impressive]

Brilliant!

 

[Liar]

<trying to imagine how to get anything in the fucking-department happening with a cream cheese dildo, but drawing blanks>

 

[fieryjen]

I am tempted to try just the last line of the letter on one of my creditors:

If it works, I'll be richer by $189 and I'll have saved them several minutes of reading time.

Let me know how that works out for you

 

[shereads]

Let me know how that works out for you

It didn't.

Those creeps at the power company have no appreciation for a well-turned phrase.

 

[jomar]

I love the build-up.

 

[shereads]

Something every disgruntled consumer should strive for.

And the gruntled consumers, as well. It's about time they stopped relying on us to do their dirty work.

 

[shereads]

'Fess up.

Someone out there has attempted the cream-cheese insertion. The only questions are, will you turn it into a story; and will I award it a six (a five plus a one, as a bonus.)