We sophisticated consumers of erotica know that the letters to Penthouse magazine are not, alas, written by real people. As George Costanza so memorably stated, "Not that many people have sex with amputees!" Doubtless Penthouse has some poor editorial assistant cranking these letters out by the dozen. That would be an interesting entry on your resume, "Editorial Assistant--Penthouse Magazine".
So the letters to Penthouse are fake. But what about the letters to Parade magazine, that tabloid insert that comes with your Sunday paper? I read Parade for one thing only-- Walter Scott's Personality Parade, on the inside front. Not because I really care about whether John Cusack is still dating Neve Campbell, but because I care very much that a citizen of the United States would really CARE that GODDAM MUCH to write a letter asking about it.
I mean, look at this week's issue (I know I'm a bit behind here, but I didn't get around to reading the Sunday paper till today). A woman from New Orleans asking why we never see anything about Britney Spears' dad. A woman in New Jersey saying that she knows Eva Gabor is dead, but what's up with Zsa Zsa? A request for information about Gen. Tommy Franks, another asking if Joseph Wambaugh will ever write again. Of course there's the obligatory "Who is George Clooney dating?" question.
I'm sure there are sad, sad people who are really concerned about these questions. But taking pen to paper (or keyboard to e-mail) and thinking that Parade magazine can actually ANSWER them is beyond me.
But what really got me was the last question. A gentleman named Bob Morgan said that he heard the motorcycle Tom Cruise rode in his masturbatory self-loving "Mission Impossible II" was up for sale, and he wanted to know how much it was going for. Now, this is ridiculous. "MI:2" was the worst movie I've seen in the past ten years. And it's not like the bike Cruise rode was the Batmobile or anything cool like that, it was just a motorcycle.
The infuriating part of all this is the fact that Mr. Morgan is listed as living in Pittsburgh. I'm from Pittsburgh. And I want to reassure the world that we Pittsburghers have too much going on upstairs to be concerned about bullshit like prices for props used in awful movies. There is NO WAY Bob Morgan is a real person. I am going to print out Yahoo's listing of every Bob, Robert, and R. Morgan in the Greater Pittsburgh area and ask if he's the creature who wrote the letter to Parade. And when I find him, I'm going to his house, and I'm going to slap him good.
So the letters to Penthouse are fake. But what about the letters to Parade magazine, that tabloid insert that comes with your Sunday paper? I read Parade for one thing only-- Walter Scott's Personality Parade, on the inside front. Not because I really care about whether John Cusack is still dating Neve Campbell, but because I care very much that a citizen of the United States would really CARE that GODDAM MUCH to write a letter asking about it.
I mean, look at this week's issue (I know I'm a bit behind here, but I didn't get around to reading the Sunday paper till today). A woman from New Orleans asking why we never see anything about Britney Spears' dad. A woman in New Jersey saying that she knows Eva Gabor is dead, but what's up with Zsa Zsa? A request for information about Gen. Tommy Franks, another asking if Joseph Wambaugh will ever write again. Of course there's the obligatory "Who is George Clooney dating?" question.
I'm sure there are sad, sad people who are really concerned about these questions. But taking pen to paper (or keyboard to e-mail) and thinking that Parade magazine can actually ANSWER them is beyond me.
But what really got me was the last question. A gentleman named Bob Morgan said that he heard the motorcycle Tom Cruise rode in his masturbatory self-loving "Mission Impossible II" was up for sale, and he wanted to know how much it was going for. Now, this is ridiculous. "MI:2" was the worst movie I've seen in the past ten years. And it's not like the bike Cruise rode was the Batmobile or anything cool like that, it was just a motorcycle.
The infuriating part of all this is the fact that Mr. Morgan is listed as living in Pittsburgh. I'm from Pittsburgh. And I want to reassure the world that we Pittsburghers have too much going on upstairs to be concerned about bullshit like prices for props used in awful movies. There is NO WAY Bob Morgan is a real person. I am going to print out Yahoo's listing of every Bob, Robert, and R. Morgan in the Greater Pittsburgh area and ask if he's the creature who wrote the letter to Parade. And when I find him, I'm going to his house, and I'm going to slap him good.
