Letter to President Obama #28 | Subject: Public Education

Letter to President Obama #28 | Subject: Public Education

Dear President Obama,

I attended public schools for my entire life and overall I think the public schools I attended served me admirably. Nevertheless, I've got a few things I'd like to ask/suggest about the system.

First of all, I know there’s been a lot of talk about standardized tests in the last few years, but I’ve got a question of my own that has never been asked. As a kid, I usually did pretty well on standardized tests, but on a few occasions I didn’t, because I was transfixed by the possibility that there might be an underlying code on the test sheet, like those crazy numbers on Lost. And if I managed to figure out the code and filled in the bubbles correctly, I’d get a secret prize, like ice cream or getting to skip the fifth grade. Anyway, on a few occasions when I got bored (the math sections of the tests, usually) I tried to spell out that secret with my answers, but it’s hard only using A through E. The best I came up with was A BABE CEDED ABE A BEE. Is that correct? If so, I’ll still take the government up on the free ice cream. Please send it, you already have my address.

I also have a question about school funding priorities. I know that school budgets are quite tight these days, but I think we should retain as many music and art classes as possible. I know music classes can be an especially tough sell—I mean, let’s face it—they’re often noisy, chaotic, and disorganized. I mean, the other day I was down the hallway from a room full of fourth graders with recorders, and for a moment I thought I was overhearing a flock of poisoned, deranged birds. (Or healthy loons.) And then I got into the classroom and found that many of the kids were armed with those padded xylophone mallet things and they were whomping each other on the head like in Whack-A-Mole. This reminded me of the music class at my elementary school: A lot of clashing and a sugar-crazed kid with the cymbals, then the teacher trying to sing over the top of all that noise. Eventually she gave up and just started screaming along with the music. I’m pretty sure that this is where death metal originated.

That’s exactly my point; the end product doesn’t always seem all that important (or even melodic) but these classes can be productive in really surprising ways.

Of course, the same could be said of most art classes—but I think our kids do a pretty good job of depicting the human form. I mean, really, if I were forced to choose, I would rather take my six year old cousin’s drawing of a woman out on a date rather than either of the women depicted in Pablo Picasso’s painting Femmes devant la mer (Women before the Sea), because my cousin’s figure, while sporting a serious unibrow and really disproportionate features, was not some sort of human-triangle hybrid.

So please do consider retaining funding for such courses. If we need to cut back in other areas; I’d suggest cutting math. And if, as I suspect, we won’t be cutting math classes, I’d like to spruce them up. I’ve always thought the music triangle should have been incorporated into math class somehow. Then maybe math class would have been fun. (In retrospect, it seems like a perfect fit for trigonometry.)

In any case, that’s another topic altogether. Please let me know what you think, and thanks.

Brett

This is letter #28 to President Obama. I'm sending one-a-day, or thereabouts. I haven't received a response yet, but will let everyone know if I do.

Letter to President Obama # 27 | Subject: The Great Outdoors

Letter to President Obama # 27 | Subject: The Great Outdoors

Dear President Obama,

I’ve been reading a lot about the economic downturn, and my girlfriend and I have done our best to spur the economy, so we’ve been staying at home and trying to spend our money in the community. To that end, we’ve been spending a lot of times at state parks.

Unfortunately, because of Minnesota’s budget crisis, I’m pretty sure that state park fees will be going up soon. Our governor’s been saying over and over again that we all need to “tighten our belts” a bit more, but it’s pretty tough to tighten your belt when you’ve already sold your pants.

Anyway, so there I was, in the woods, hiking to my campsite, without pants. (Thankfully, they were that kind of pants that turn into shorts and I only sold the parts that zipped off.) Well, we made it to our campsite, set everything up and went fishing.

We caught a whole bunch of fish and I was anticipating a fresh meal, but my girlfriend put the kibosh on that plan when she told me about the mercury levels in the lake. I was shocked. In case you don’t know, the Department of Natural Resources issues consumption guidelines for fish caught in Minnesota waters, as some fish contain an unsafe level of mercury. I tried to let the fish go, but a few died, so there I was, with a couple dead northern pike, but I didn’t want to waste them (as I feel bad enough keeping fish anyway). So I tried to put the mercury in them to use. I tried to use the first fish as a thermometer, but it didn’t work. I knew lightmbulbs have a lot of mercury in them, but I wasn’t about to apply an electrical charge to a toothed fish; plus, even if that would have worked, I didn’t want to see a glowing green-and-white spotted predator. It probably would have looked like some sort of spectral barracuda. No thanks. Finally, I thought of harnessing the high mercury content in the fish and the lake water and considered becoming a hatter.

I ended up just bringing the fish to a garbage can, but I never was able to throw them away. I tried, but there were all these wasps flying around, and every time I approached, they attacked. I’ve always thought that the government had something to do with this, that somebody at the Environmental Protection Agency secretly placed wasps in every garbage can to make the general population associate throwing stuff away with pain. Is this true? If so, please tell the EPA folks that, in my case, it worked. Every time I see a garbage can outside (especially at the fair!), I run away.

When you think about it, it’s really a brilliant idea, and it’s pretty harmless. Unless you’re allergic to bees or wasps. Hmm, maybe we should attach an EPI-pen to each garbage can. Anyway, if we really want to lessen our impact on the Earth, perhaps we could take this idea further and let even scarier animals inhabit our garbage cans. Pit vipers would work, or if we could give get the guys at a DARPA to engineer a tiny reverse-scuba suit, a moray eel could be right at home in our trash bins.

In any case, please let me know what you think, and thanks.


Brett Ortler

Letter to the President #26 | Subject: Military Tribunals

Letter to the President #26 | Subject: Military Tribunals

Letter to the President #26 | Subject: Military Tribunals

Dear President Obama,

Like many Americans, I’ve been reading a lot about the prison at Guantanamo Bay and about all of the controversy about what to do with the prisoners there once Gitmo is closed. I’ve read that you’re suggesting we create a variety of military tribunals to try these prisoners.

Personally, I don’t get why we just don’t just try them in civilian courts. I mean, we tried all sorts of scary people in criminal courts, and that process worked out pretty well. I mean, we even tried Jeffrey Dahmer in a criminal court, and that guy ate people. (I have a question about the Dahmer case; I read that he got killed with a mop handle in prison. This surprised me; I didn’t know that mops were a capital punishment option. That seems a little old fashioned, if I may say so.)

Anyway, if you’re determined to try these people in military courts, then I have a few suggestions. First of all, I think Judge Judy would be a great selection as Chief Justice of the Military Tribunals. Of course, we’d probably have to give her a military title so she’d fit in, so maybe we should make her a field marshal or something like that. Then again, I’m pretty sure that if we did, it’d go to her head. She’s kind of crazy like that. I could see her reaching over the bench and throwing a gavel at a disrespectful defendant as she yelled don’t you know that I’m a field marshal!? So maybe that’s not a great idea after all.

Of course, if we choose Judge Judy, the trials will have to be broadcast live on television, as otherwise Judge Judy would be out of her element. I’d suggest that we air these on the regular channels, not cable, so everyone could watch them. (Pay-per-view would be the wrong choice; these are military tribunals, not boxing matches or adult entertainment, Mr. President.)

Of course, if we choose Judge Judy for the tribunals, we’ll have to choose an appropriate bailiff. Have you ever noticed that the bailiffs on the judge-type TV shows are always really diverse? On Judge Mathis’s show, the judge is black and the bailiff is white. Then there’s the People’s Court where the judge is white and the bailiff is black. And one of the other judge shows has a male judge and a female bailiff. I think this was a nice gesture, so we should continue it at our Military Tribunals. Of course, we’d still have to choose carefully, as the bailiffs really help out the show, as the witty banter between the judge and the bailiff really lightens the mood. Of course, our bailiff would have to be tough, so I’d suggest someone from the Special Forces. Hey—do any of our Navy Seals do stand-up? If so, I think we’ve found our bailiff.

Finally, since your critics will probably say these tribunals will be kangaroo courts, perhaps you could preempt them and include a kangaroo (or at least a wallaby) in some nonessential court position. Perhaps the kangaroo could be a backup transcriptionist. Or maybe a koala could be the bailiff’s assistant. (It’d look so cute in one of those rent-a-cop uniforms!) In any event, some Australian animal should be included, as it’ll give the court an air of international inclusiveness. As I understand it, judges in the United Kingdom wear wigs to court; to augment the afore-mentioned inclusiveness, perhaps everyone present could wear wigs.

Please let me know what you think about these suggestions, and thanks.

Brett




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Letter to Obama #25 | Subject: A Note About Healthcare

Letter to Obama #25 | Subject: A Note About Healthcare

Dear President Obama,

I got an email yesterday from info@barackobama.com, in which you said that you need my help passing your health care legislation. Well, I couldn’t finish my letter, as I had a migraine. In this respect, it is the only migraine ever to be opportune, because it made me think a lot about healthcare.

So I have a quick suggestion about doctors. I think it’d be nice if, one day out of the year, we could declare a national holiday that reverses the doctor-patient relationship. I think they’d be better doctors if they understood what it was like on the other side.

First, of course, they’d have to make an appointment, which would entail talking to the robotic operator, and it wouldn’t be one of those easy-to-use voice recorded ones, no, it’ll be the “please say your option aloud” kind. Every time I call them up, the machine tells me to say the word “Appointment” if I want to schedule a visit.

So I say it slowly. The machine tells me it didn’t understand. So I say it again. It asks me to repeat it again. I do so, but now I’m saying it so slowly my voice sounds like I’m either in slow-motion or trying to do an Andre the Giant impression. Of course, it doesn’t process this either.

I really don’t get why this is so hard—there aren’t that many words that rhyme with appointment. Sure, I guess it’s conceivable that I could be saying I’d like to make an ointment, or I’d like to make an anointment, but that’d be pretty strange. Mr. President, why do we even use these robot things if they can’t hear? That’s like using my great-grandmother as a receptionist. She had two miracle ears for a reason.

Anyway, after the third attempt, I usually try making a bunch of modemy noises, you know, to try speaking the robot’s language, but no dice. This usually gets me transferred to the operator, so I guess I must know how to swear in robot or something.

Of course this is no real solution to my problem. I get put on hold and a really stilted voice tells me that my call is valuable to them and there is synthesized background music that was apparently composed by the answering robot in its copious free time. (Speaking of the voice message, if my call is really valuable to them, I wish they would give me money.)

Anyway, once the doctor set the appointment up, they’d get called into the examination room. I’d breeze in twenty minutes late, the smell of formaldehyde and those latex gloves wafting into the room behind me. Of course, I’d be wearing a lab coat (except I’d splatter mine with red food coloring and some uncooked headcheese to keep them guessing).

Then I’d start the interrogation, because that’s what a doctor’s visit feels like sometimes. I mean, no matter what you’re being seen for, they start you off with curt, terse questions. And no matter how truthful you are during the inquisition, the interrogation always gets worse—they shine bright lights in your eyes, stick things in your ears, and you’re often forced to wear a demeaning paper dress. A dress, Mr. President, and one that closes from the back. If that doesn’t make you feel threatened, I don’t know what will.

And don’t think I haven’t noticed the examination table, which looks like a tiny bed, until you realize that it’s really a torture implement for short people. Yes, Mr. President, I’m short, and I’ve seen the foot clamps and arm clamps. I pulled one out during one visit and asked why it was hidden, and the doctor said, “Oh, we don’t usually show people those unless we need to.”

And if you’re really unlucky, they put you in this torpedo-tube thing that makes loud noises and you think they’re going to shoot you at a ship or something. Or worse yet, they tell you need a shot or that they need to draw blood, which is really just another way to say that they are going to stab you slightly. If that’s the case, they’ll sometimes pull out the most painful torture tool of all; that finger catapult thing—the one that’s supposed to “just be a pinprick” but makes it feel like one finger is being attacked by some sort of raptor.

Of course, since I’m not a sadist, I wouldn’t subject my doctor-patient to any of this cruel treatment. Instead, I’d simply make sure to repeatedly test the doctor’s reflexes with that little hammer. You know, the one they always use on your knees? Mr. President, I have pretty small knees. And they are sensitive. If you wanted to torture me, that’s all you’d have to do. You can tell the CIA that; they wouldn’t have to waterboard me. Every time I go to the doctor’s office, I see that little hammer while I’m waiting for the doctor to arrive, and I always want to hide it so he skips that part.

I’d then spend the next ten minutes asking doctor-patient about their “symptoms,” and every once in a while, I’d whack them with that little hammer just to keep them guessing. Then, no matter what their symptoms were, I’d use big words like “nonspecific” and “hypochondria” and tell them that things should clear up on their own. And I’d threaten them with that little hammer and tell them not to come back.

Take Care,

Brett Ortler

Letter to President Obama #24 | Subject: Fruits and Vegetables

Letter to President Obama #24 | Subject: Fruits and Vegetables

Dear President Obama,

Like many Americans, I’m concerned about the prevalence of obesity, and I’ve been thinking about ways we could help our population get in shape. I’m going to focus on one part of the problem—too many Americans are eating unhealthy foods.

I think I know why this might be—shoddy marketing. What I mean is, whoever is doing the marketing for fruits is pretty good, but we need to fire the person responsible for marketing vegetables. The fruit branding campaign was a total success. If you mention the word fruit, many people will think of delicious, fresh food that smells really, really good. There are almost no negative connotations, except for one use of the word as a homophobic slur. (And that was almost certainly an attempt by a jealous vegetable—probably a cauliflower or something—to tarnish fruit’s good name.)

On the other hand, if you mention the word “vegetable” you’ll get all sorts of negative reactions. The first association I make is with hospital patients who are brain dead, or those in permanent comas. Now I don’t know about you, but when I think about the brain dead, I don’t get particularly hungry. Contrary to popular belief, I am not a zombie.

Another popular and less-than-flattering association occurs at the dinner table. Every night, all over America parents are telling their children to “eat your vegetables,” which is essentially the equivalent of saying, “Here, child, eat this thing you don’t like very much.”

We must ask ourselves, why do people make these associations and how can we avoid them? Well, to be frank, I think it is because people generally consider vegetables to be pretty boring—I mean, I work for a publishing house and we’ve published all sorts of fruit cookbooks like The Joy of Raspberries, The Joy of Peaches, and so on, but thus far, none of our cookbooks have featured vegetables.

The reason why should be pretty obvious. I mean, consider cauliflower. There’s no joy there, just general bewilderment about its unseemly shape and texture and a lingering association from high school about the wrestling coach and his nasty cauliflower ear. Let me tell you, The Bewilderment of Cauliflower wouldn’t sell, Mr. President. Neither would The Mundanity of Lettuce.

Thankfully, we’ve got a lot of vegetables that have a lot more zip to them, and our new vegetable marketing campaign just needs to feature these. Of course, this means that we’ll be highlighting some different vegetables than we have in the past. Clearly cauliflower and lettuce are out—but I’d also like to demote onions and Brussels sprouts.

I’d like to do so because I’d like to institute two commonsense general rules when it comes to food: (1) Food should not make you cry. (2) Food should not smell like shoes. I think these are rules everyone can agree on, yes?

With that said, onions clearly violate the first rule and Brussels sprouts violate the second.

Now I know that some people will say that Brussels sprouts smell good. These people are incorrect. That is, they process smell incorrectly. Their noses are broken; perhaps they were punched and did not know it. We shouldn’t condemn this misled portion of our population or look down upon them; instead, we should help them learn to smell correctly. (We could do this by running Public Service Announcements juxtaposing Brussels Sprouts with universally-agreed-upon images of evil—Stalin, math equations, and for the younger crowd, Voldemort.)

Even if we decide not to adopt my two rules, I think we should choose vegetables that are more inclusive. Onions and Brussels sprouts are anything but inclusive. You either love them or hate them. Needless to say, they are dividers, not uniters.

I think the chili pepper would be a good representative for vegetables. Even if you don’t like them, you can’t dislike them, as they are so colorful and feisty, like the Irish. In this respect, the Chilis restaurant chain has been stealing our thunder for years.

I’d also like to play up more of the health benefits of vegetables. Yes, we always hear tidbits about cancer fighting ability and so on, but this news is always conditional and hypothetical. Give me a story that begins “research suggests” and I’ll tune out after ten seconds. I think our erstwhile vegetable marketer caught onto this, and I’ve been noticing that the ketchup manufacturers have been really pushing the Lycopene campaign. This was a valiant attempt, but Mr. President, it’s pretty clear that Lycopene is a term some marketing guy made up out of desperation. I’ve only heard it on ketchup commercials, nowhere else. Lycopene sort of sounds more like a disease than anything else. If we’re going to make up some terms, let’s at least ask the pharmaceutical companies to give us a few suggestions. They always come up with clever, uplifting product names for products that are often pretty gross.

So in conclusion, please consider my suggestions, and let me know what you think.

Thanks,


Brett Ortler

Letter to President Obama #23 | Subject: Board Games and Economic Recovery

Letter to President Obama #23 | Subject: Board Games and Economic Recovery

Dear President Obama,

I know we’re in the throes of an economic downturn, so I’ve been trying to think up some ways I could help contribute to the economy and the economic recovery. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I learned a good deal of information from board games—and this information spanned a wide variety of subjects—how to manage a war on several fronts (Risk), the basics of a cutthroat capitalist economy (Monopoly) and that a wide variety of implements can be used in a homicide, and such homicides can occur in any room of the house (Clue). I’ll give you a few examples of what I mean.

For instance, consider the national security environment of the last eight years. Since 2001, we’ve been engaged in the War on Terror—a fight that knows no particular country; Mr. President, that’s like fighting everyone at once! It’s pretty clear that such a strategy won’t work; just try it on the Risk board! There aren’t enough armies, even if you team up with your sister and try to take on the world together. All this does is incite your opponents and thins out your military and pretty soon your enemies win some battles and then they’ll have reinforcements and then they set up a stronghold in one of your former territories, like Alberta. Instead of attacking everywhere at once, you have to focus your efforts.

(By the way, given the popularity of the game Risk, I’m quite surprised that no would-be conqueror of the world has ever attacked Australia first. Instead, it’s always Poland or somewhere in Asia. This doesn’t make sense to me—the game of Risk makes it clear, if you invade Europe you have to fight everybody; if you invade Australia you just have to fight some wallabies and a few ex-cons, which doesn’t sound all that tough, though I admit that wallabies would look imposing with epaulets and hats.)

Other board games taught me a great deal about the business world. For instance, thanks to Monopoly I now know that I should always be on the look-out for theft, especially when family members or close friends (especially children!) are involved. My little cousins were notorious thieves—they’d not only steal money from the bank, they’d steal the occasional property too! It’s a sad fact that family often steals from family, but one need only watch such documentaries as the Maury Povich and Jerry Springer shows to see (graphic!) depictions of this depravity. Monopoly also taught me to be an assertive, vigilant landlord (or else my tenant—sister— would get away without paying rent!)

I’d even say we could go farther with this concept—how about creating a U.S. Government version of Monopoly. Could you help make this happen? First of all, it wouldn’t be unheard of, as I know that Star Wars versions exist. Of course the game would have to be altered somewhat. For instance, the appearance of the “Chance” cards could stay the same, but “Community Chest” could feature a busty intern. And the text on the cards could be changed too—instead of the “Chance” card instructing you to pay every player $50, a card could read, “Oops! You bugged a hotel and got caught! Skip your term.”

The properties could be arranged differently too, but like in the original game, we could arrange them from the least valuable (Nebraska would be the Baltic Avenue of this board) to the high-class. Even better, Park Place wouldn’t even have to change!)

We could also use this as a civic educational tool. For instance, the “Income Tax” square on the board could feature actual miniaturized tax forms that you’d have to fill out before taking your next turn. This would help our young people get acclimated with the complexity of taxes early. (Mr. President, can you make those forms a little easier? Right now, tax forms are a lot like a choose-your-own-adventure book with no happy endings.)

We could also use this opportunity to clear up a few mistakes in the original game. First of all, I don’t know about you, but when I played Monopoly with my family, you got $500 if you landed on Free Parking. So naturally I was pretty disappointed when I found free parking in real life for the first time and I didn’t get any money at all, except for this dime I found. Later it turned out it wasn’t free parking at all, and I got a ticket. I was tempted to send this ticket to the Milton Bradley company and have them pay it, but I never got around to doing it.

While I’m talking about board games, I’ve got two other brief questions you might be able to answer for me, Mr. President. First of all, you’ve met Bill Gates, right? Do his kids get to play Monopoly? I’ve always wondered about that.

Also, if you think that changing Monopoly is a good idea, then I think we should make a general change to the game Life. Now, I won’t get into the details, but I do think the game is a little too cheery, generally. Life should certainly have a harder edge. To that end, I’d like to take a page from the Oregon Trail video game (which was a pretty harsh game) and have a few squares like, “Wife gets dysentery. Spend $2,000 to pay for hospital bills,” or “Cat eats pet bird. Be sad for six spaces.”

Let me know what you think about these ideas; I think they could help.

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Brett Ortler

Letter to President Obama #22 | Subject: Code Names and The Secret Service

Letter to President Obama #22 | Subject: Code Names and The Secret Service

Dear President Obama,

I’m writing because I have a few questions about the Secret Service. First of all, I understand that the Secret Service issues codenames for the First Family and for important members of government. Now, I know that I’m not a member of the government, but I’d really like to have a codename.

I’ve put a lot of thought into my secret codename options. Of course, I don’t want it to interfere with any of the official business at the White House. And really, the Secret Service folks wouldn’t have to memorize it or even use it; I’d just like them to call it over the earpieces once.

Really, this is my attempt at a footnote in history. I’d like my name to make it in on Wikipedia, with a short note saying, “was once referred to as _____________” by the Secret Service.

So I’ve got a few options lined up. My first choice would be “Rabid Wombat.” I know it sounds silly, but there’s no way you’d mistake it for anyone else’s codename (unless that name is already taken by Dick Cheney), and think about how cool it would be to hear Roger that, the Rabid Wombat is entering the Library of Congress. If that name is already taken, “The Do-Gooding Pirate” would be a good one for me too; I think it’d be great to hear, The Do-Gooding Pirate Is in the Capitol Cafeteria. (Wait, does the Capitol have a cafeteria? If so, do they have those little chocolate milk things like in Elementary School? And do they have lunch ladies, or do they have really attractive scantily clad 20-something co-eds as lunch ladies?)

In any case, if the codename doesn’t work out, I’d like a little help obtaining some Secret Service gear. Don’t worry, I’d like to do this for entirely benign reasons—I’d like to go as a Secret Service agent at Halloween next year.

To that end, I’d like to know: Do they sell those Secret Service earpieces anywhere? And by the way, what do Secret Service agents listen to on their earpieces? Is it just a running update on the status of the situation, or can they tune into radio stations? I ask this because one time I saw a Secret Service guy on TV and he was dancing, or at least bouncing around a bit as he scanned the crowd, and I swear I heard a really tinny rendition of a Bob Marley song in the background. Of course, I could be wrong, but this was during the Bush Administration, and I don’t know why they would have been playing Bob Marley. Ever.

Anyway, if Secret Service Man was listening to music, I’m not saying this is a bad thing. On the contrary, I think relaxing music would probably help those guys focus, and I’d encourage this. But whatever you do, don’t let the Secret Service guys listen to New Age-y music—in my experience, that stuff either puts me to sleep or makes me really, really angry. I’ve never wanted to suplex someone more than when listening to the supposedly relaxing music of Yanni or John Tesh. Either scenario could end badly if it occurred on the White House lawn.

In this respect, New Age-y music is sort of like those motivational posters. Both have noble intentions but utterly fail. An example: Once, my boss bought a motivational poster with a picture of the Great Wall of China on it and the word “Teamwork” in big letters. I started laughing when she showed it to me, thinking it was some sort of absurd joke. When they didn’t say anything, I frowned, and told them that I’d read that the Great Wall of China was built largely by slaves and it was rumored that some of those folks were buried in the wall when they died. Now it was my boss’s turn to frown, mutter something about demotion, and then she made it quite clear that the stupid thing was going above my desk. I don’t work there anymore.

Anyway, if I can’t get all of the Secret Service agent gear, maybe I could combine costumes; I could dress up like a Secret Service guy and then double as the guy who has that briefcase handcuffed to his arm all the time. But in order to make my costume as accurate as possible, I need answers to a few questions. First, is the whole briefcase thing in his job description, and what is his job title, by the way? Is it something simple like Nuclear Code Briefcase Man or something more grandiose, like The Protector of the Codes? In either case, I’m pretty sure there’s a comic book superhero in there somewhere, Mr. President.

And what happens if that briefcase handcuff chafes his arm a lot, it gets infected, and he has to take medical leave because of it? I imagine that’d get pretty awkward, especially if he had to specify on some form that he was missing work because of handcuff usage on the job. In this respect, I can empathize with The Protector of the Codes. Once when I was a kid, my sister handcuffed me with those fake kid handcuffs and then broke off the latch. I had that thing on my arm for a week. There’s nothing weirder than explaining that you have a handcuff on your arm because your sister handcuffed you to the deck. That story gets even worse—my neighbor friend, who was ten at the time and thought he was MacGyver, wanted to use an ax to get the handcuff off. Let me tell you, it’s not as easy to do as on TV.

Thank you for reading Mr. President, and let me know what you think.

Thanks,


Brett Ortler

Letter to President Obama #21 | Subject: Food, and the Food and Drug Administration

Letter to President Obama #21 | Subject: Food, and the Food and Drug Administration

Dear President Obama,

I’ve got a few questions about food and food safety.

First, I read online the other day that a cook at a California diner spotted the Virgin Mary in a griddle. This surprised me for a few reasons. First, I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t be that concerned who was in the griddle; I’d just try to get them out of there! But the folks at the diner didn’t think to do this; instead, they left Mother Mary in there and featured the griddle in a shrine. Maybe they couldn’t find a spatula.

Anyway, that’s not why I’m writing. I’m writing because I’ve read stories like this on a number of occasions, and it got me wondering—isn’t the Food and Drug Agency on the look-out for this sort of thing? If they’re not, they probably should be.

I’m also a bit confused—I only seem to read about these stories at the grocery store, often while I’m in the checkout line. The tabloids there will have a picture of Mother Mary in a muffin, or a headline proclaiming that a likeness of Jesus was found in a jar of jam, and so on. Is this some sort of weird grocery marketing scheme?

If so, please tell the grocery lobbyists that their plan is a failure; it doesn’t make me want to buy more food. On the contrary, it makes me a lot more careful when I’m cooking. I mean, I’m not a very good Catholic (I’m aiming for Purgatory), but I know I’d be going to gehenna if I accidentally made a member of the Holy Family extra crispy. So now I cook my food more slowly and I eat less. If this isn’t all a grocery conspiracy, I wonder why the less obscure bible characters hardly make an appearance. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of Amminadab being found on an apple or Gad on a gumball. Then again, maybe they are there and we’re just not noticing them.

I also have a question about fruits and vegetables. They don’t have rights, do they? As I understand it, if I buy an orange, I can yell at it all I want, right? I know these are weird questions, so let me explain: Something strange happened to me at a Minnesota Twins game I recently attended. During the pregame festivities, all sorts of stuff was going on, and all of a sudden, the field was more or less empty and there were only two people on the field. One guy was dressed up like a banana. The other was dressed up like a strawberry. There was no explanation over the loudspeaker; the announcer guy was too busy trying to tell us about the official milk of the Minnesota Twins. (Only a team in Minnesota would have an official milk. Wisconsin’s baseball team doesn’t even have one—apparently, the official milk of the Milwaukee Brewers is beer.)

Anyway, this strawberry and banana thing made me really mad, because I was thinking about fruits and vegetables for the whole game. And Mr. President, that is NOT what I want to be thinking about at a baseball game. I want to be thinking about malt cups, hot dogs, beer, and my impending obesity, in that order. Anyway, in order to get back at them, I really want to attend another game, dress up in a costume of my own and chase the strawberry and banana around. To terrify them, I’m planning on dressing up as a blender. Ideally, I’d like hire a guy to wear a kiwi costume, catch him, and throw him into the blender, kicking and screaming. Then I’d chase the other two around screaming SMOOTHIE, SMOOTHIE, which I hope would scare them enough to never attend another Major League Baseball Game.

This wouldn’t be illegal, would it? I thought I should ask if it was first before renting the costumes, so please ask the folks at the FDA about this and get back to me.

Thanks,

Brett Ortler

Letter to Obama #20 | Subject: Smokey the Bear

Letter to Obama #20 | Subject: Smokey the Bear

Dear President Obama,

Last weekend, I was on the Internet, trying to figure out which state park to visit, and a giant advertisement appeared on one of the websites I visited. The ad featured Smokey The Bear and his trademark line, Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires.

Now, I know this whole Smokey the Bear campaign has been pretty popular, but I have to be honest with you, Mr. President, I just don’t think Smokey the Bear is the right messenger. And I don’t think his famous slogan is right either.

First of all, the slogan’s basically an anxiety attack waiting to happen. Only you can prevent forest fires. I’m sorry, but isn’t that a lot of pressure for one person? What’s more, the message doesn’t seem entirely accurate. I mean, I know that I can do my part to prevent forest fires, but there are all sorts of other people who could help. Like firefighters. Or those tanker plane pilots, you know, in the planes that swoop down and drop lake water (and the occasional scuba diver) onto fires.

Even the scuba diver guy could help, if he were conscious after the fall; I mean, he’d at least have oxygen. A snorkeler would probably be no use.

So I’d like to suggest that we change the slogan. I mean, I’ve got some problems with using a bear as a mascot (I’ll get to that in a minute), but assuming we’re sticking with Smokey, let’s take advantage of the fact that bears occasionally eat humans. In this respect, a slogan like I’ll Eat You If You Start A Fire would let us create something of a deterrence factor. To add to this, we could spread a little misinformation and tell the public that bears are now attracted to campfires, especially large, unwatched fires kept burning on hot, dry days, when the fire risk is particularly high. Could we also start a rumor that amateurs who bring guitars to campfires will also be eaten? If so, great.

As for my problems with Smokey himself, I really don’t know if I can take wilderness ethics advice from a bear in a hat. I mean, why is a bear telling me all this, anyway? To be nice? Bears aren’t nice, Mr. President. They are my main competitors for raspberries and honey.

And bears don’t live in trees; they can run pretty quickly, so they might escape a forest fire, if they were lucky. But when a forest burns down, a whole lot of squirrels and woodpeckers need to find apartments. Frankly, I’d prefer my animal mascot to be a bit more invested in the message. To get the maximum effect, I’d like to go for as much sympathy as possible, so I’d like to suggest an odd mascot: Timmy the Tree Slug. Before you shoot me down on this, hear me out. As you might be aware, tree slugs are not fast, and they’re not cute. But we could use these traits to our advantage. If we coupled an image of a terribly depressed tree slug (with its antennae akimbo) and the tagline: Please don’t start a fire. I’m a tree slug. I have it bad enough as it is.

Let me know what you think about this, and thanks.

Brett Ortler

Letter to Obama #19 | Subject: Homeland Security

Letter to Obama #19 | Subject: Homeland Security

Dear President Obama,

I’m writing because I’ve got a few questions about Homeland Security.
First of all, remember when the Department of Homeland Security came out with the recommendation that everyone get duct tape and plastic lining for protection against chemical and biological weapons? Is that recommendation still in force?

If so, great! Then I’m all set. Except, I don’t call it protection from terrorists; I just call it a fort. I built it for the neighbor’s kids, but they got tired of it. So now I just use it for a temporary greenhouse. But I’d be more than happy to use it as a shelter against chemical and biological weapons—just let me know if that’s OK.

As an aside, is it OK to incorporate a secret password into the WMD-fort? The kids made me promise that I’d use the password every time I entered it, even if they weren’t there. I keep my promises, so if you want to visit the fort, you’re definitely welcome, but you have to say the password “Beagles” first.
In addition, as I was looking at the DHS’s website, some of the entries on the emergency preparedness kit seemed a little obvious. I mean, emergency or not, I don’t forget water or food wherever I go. Well, sometimes I forget breakfast, but that’s different, right? I was a little disappointed to learn that the emergency preparedness kit didn’t include gas masks or those cool Darth Vader-like HAZMAT suits. You know, the ones with the internal respirators? If you’d add those to the preparedness kit, I’m pretty sure a lot of people would be a lot more interested in Homeland Security; you have to admit, they do look pretty cool.

I also have a question about the National Threat Assessment Level. It doesn’t ever seem to change; it’s been at elevated for as long as I can remember. Is that good? Or is the person we hired to change it just really, really bad at their job? In either case, we need to change the system to make people pay attention again. I suggest we broaden its scope a little bit. I’d like to recommend that we start applying the Threat Level aesthetically and culturally. For instance, if our operatives detect that an upstart daughter of a washed-up country singer could soon have her own Disney program, I’d like to prevent this, at all costs. I think you know who I’m talking about, Mr. President.

Let me know what you think about this idea, and the others too.
Thanks,

Brett

Letter to President Obama #18 | Subject: Ideas for the Economy

Letter to President Obama #18 | Subject: Ideas for the Economy and A Note about Birds

Dear President Obama,

I’ve got a few suggestions about the economy that I think might help the administration.

First of all, I’m in the process of buying my first home, and I was really excited to learn about the $8,000 tax rebate for first-time home buyers. I’ve been thinking about opening a small business with that money, and I learned of this business venture from a cartoon, The Duck Tales.

As you may recall, in The Duck Tales, Scrooge McDuck has a large vault in which he keeps all of his money. The vault is so full of coins that it’s a de facto swimming pool. Not surprisingly, Mr. McDuck (who is the uncle of Donald) is often shown swimming in his vault.

Ever since I saw The Duck Tales, I’ve wanted to swim in a pool of money too. So I did some calculations, and I was disappointed to find that even if I were to receive all of my tax rebate in pennies, I’d only be able to fill a 1,000-gallon aquarium. Needless to say, I couldn’t swim in that, Mr. President; I’m not a fish.

Nevertheless, I’ve been reading about the bank bailouts, and I’m pretty sure that the Treasury Department has enough money to make an Olympic-sized pool of money happen. By my calculations, all we’d need is about 39 million dollars in pennies! And Mr. President, please don’t think that this money would go to waste. I’m pretty sure that there are other people like me. If my hunch is correct, we could even market it as a tourist attraction and charge an entrance fee!

Of course, we’d have to take precautions against theft, and the “penny-dives” so popular with children at other pools would necessarily have to be frowned upon. In addition, I’ve read that money has a lot of germs on it, as well as traces of illicit drugs and even fecal matter (eew!), so we’d probably want to disinfect it. If these money pools were popular enough, we could open money pools all over the place, and the entrance fees could help us pay down the deficit.

And as far as marketing, we could probably get Scrooge McDuck to be the mascot, but I’d strongly advise against making a real duck, or any live bird, the mascot. Let me explain: While I’m an ardent fan of cartoon birds, I’m ambivalent about actual birds. They’re too noisy.

That becomes pretty clear when one goes camping—but birds can even be noisy indoors. For Father’s Day one year, we got my grandfather this bird clock that makes different bird calls at the top of every hour. So at noon you’d hear a cardinal calling and so on. That’s all well and good, but the clock keeps making sounds at night too. You know, when people sleep!

And I don’t know why, but they picked the most terrifying birds possible for the middle of the night. Haunting, brooding birds, like the loon and the raven. (Right, like I want to be thinking about Edgar Allen Poe at 3 AM.) I mean, aren’t there any quiet birds? I would have been fine if they’d picked a ninja bird or a mime bird, or a bird known predominantly for its skills with American Sign Language.

In the end, that was manageable; we just avoided the bird room at night. Later, when we got him a locomotive clock, things got totally out of hand. Of course, we put it in the same room, not wanting to sacrifice another room to a noisy clock. So every day at noon, the cardinal would start chirping and then it would be overwhelmed by the sound of a Canadian Pacific train engine. To make it fair, we turned up the bird clock so the cardinal would have a chance. The result was pandemonium, let me tell you. If I had an enemy and they were staying the night, I’d make them sleep in that room.

Anyway, I’m telling you all this because I think these clocks might be useful for the U.S. government. I can think of a number of important jobs that require people to stay up at night (air traffic controllers, pilots, soldiers), and these clocks could help.

For instance, we could get each air traffic control tower about six of these. There’s no way the air traffic controllers would fall asleep then, as they’d be jarred awake every hour by the dueling sounds of our feathery friends and tons of heavy machinery. Sure, they’d probably hate birds and trains, but hey, we’re not paying them to be ornithologists or engineers.

In any case, let me know what you think about these ideas.


Thanks, and take care.


Brett Ortler

P.S. This is letter #18 to President Obama. I'm writing and sending one a day. See the rest at www.knockoutlit.org/brett.html

Letter to President Obama # 17 | Subject: The Witness Protection Program and Major League Baseball

Letter to President Obama # 17 | Subject: The Witness Protection Program

Dear President Obama,

I’m writing because I think the witness protection program would make a great reality television show. Before you write me off as some yahoo, let me explain.

First of all, Mr. President, the production costs would be really low, as we wouldn’t need writers. The show would already have written itself! All we’d have to do is read from the case file! And even if there were a writers’ strike; we’d totally have access to strikebreakers!

As for how the show might work, we could start out by introducing the main character and his family, maybe at their Witness Protection Program orientation. (Speaking of, what are those orientations like? Are there nametags, or would that be beside the point? Or is it like the Usual Suspects and everyone has a code name?)

Anyway, the camera would follow the family around as they were getting adjusted to their new lives—we could show Mr. ex-Dillinger delivering a message to the school board for his wife, going to visit the family at Thanksgiving, and so on. But every once in a while we’d juxtapose that with re-enactments of events from his old life—Mr. ex-Dillinger delivering a “message” with a baseball bat behind a restaurant, going to visit “the family” at a rural farmhouse. We could make these as realistic as possible, like the reenactments on America’s Most Wanted and Rescue 911! And if ratings dropped, we could always tip off some of the contestant’s old enemies and drama would naturally ensue. If we were lucky, we might even get a gunfight!

I also have a question about the Witness Protection Program. If you’re accepted into it, what happens if you have debts? I don’t mean gambling debts to a guy named Tony either—what I mean is, does the Witness Protection Program help avoid paying back student loans? If so, great! I’d like to become a member of the program immediately.

Now before you think I’m just trying to game the system, you should know that I do have valuable information about the mafia, and it’s pretty disheartening: Major League Baseball, like everything else, has been infiltrated by the mob. If you don’t believe me, you should look into the starting shortstop for the Cleveland Indians, Jhonny Peralta.

It should be pretty obvious he’s a mobster. (With a name like Jhonny Peralta you know a baseball bat has to be involved in his career plan somehow.) As for the specifics of how he and others are involved, I can’t fill you in now, there’s no time. I’ll explain once I get to the safe house and my student loans (they are direct loans, you already have my last name) are voided.

Thanks and take care,


Brett Ortler



This is letter #17 to President Obama. I'm sending one a day. Thanks for reading.

Letter to President Obama #16 | Subject: Television and Obscenity

Letter to President Obama #16 | Subject: Television and Obscenity

Dear President Obama,

I’m writing because I read that the Supreme Court has finally issued a ruling about the whole Janet Jackson brouhaha. I was surprised to learn that the Supreme Court has ordered a lower court to consider reinstating a $550,000 fine against CBS, which had been thrown out. In its decision, the Supreme Court essentially argued that the FCC and the federal government have the power to levy fines for certain varieties of language use, and for nudity.

First of all, I really don’t see what the big deal was all about. I mean, on the surface level, I suppose I can understand the argument that children were watching the game and were therefore exposed to something they hadn’t seen before. And then you can take that further and suppose it’ll lead to social ills like teenage pregnancy.

But that all seems like a slippery slope to me. Well, since I’ve never been on a slope that was slippery (I’m from Minnesota, we don’t even have hills, let alone slopes), that argument sounds more like one of those slip n’ slide things that I had as a kid. (Did you have one? If not, you should get one for your kids. They are fun. It could be the first slip’n slide on the White House lawn! Just don’t leave it down too long or the grass will die.)

What I mean is, nudity’s pretty common in all sorts of cultures, and it doesn’t seem to be affecting them one way or the other. Consider Germany. Nudity’s not a big deal there and the country isn’t on fire or anything. They’ve got naked folks all over the place—even at some city parks—and our teenage pregnancy rate is four times theirs. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to go nude at any parks in Minnesota. (Woodticks!)

Anyway, I went to Germany after graduating from high school and was surprised to find ice cream advertisements with half-naked models in them! And yes, I did end up getting some ice cream, but not because of the advertisement. It was like 87 degrees Celsius or something like that. OK, OK, I’m not good at any of those conversions—before I left for Germany, I forgot about the Celsius to Fahrenheit thing and kept reading that the temperatures for most of Europe would be in the 10s and 20s, which I thought was kind of cold for June. So I brought along a lot of sweaters. I ended up being overheated for most of the trip, and let me tell you, nothing makes you feel more left out than wearing a sweater to the beach.

There was nudity at the beach, too! I was playing volleyball with some friends, and then I realized that a half a dozen topless women were watching us play. Now this didn’t lead to any type of social decline or personal decline for me—it just led me to be an even poorer volleyball player than I already was.

Anyway, since the issue seems settled, I doubt I’ll be able to change your mind. So since we’re banning stuff, I have a few recommendations for things that I find obscene and would like banned.

First of all, I think that pharmaceutical ads have been given a free pass by the FCC. For instance, I am personally offended by the Flomax commercials, which make repeated references to a lack of bladder control and an overactive bladder. That’s gross, and something I really didn’t ever want to hear about.

As an aside, I’m also baffled how a marketing company was able to find actors to go along for this role. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want my face associated with the phrase, “frequently feels an urgent need to go.” It doesn’t matter how much money they paid me. Of course, it gets worse with the Viagra ads. I mean, if we’re going to start banning stuff, isn’t innuendo obscene? Isn’t it especially obscene when it involves Bob Dole and Viagra?

The worst thing about the pharmaceutical ads is the laundry list of side effects at the end of the commercials. You know, when the announcer guy starts speaking really, really quickly, as he tries to expeditiously inform you of all the terrible things that can go wrong if you take the drug he’s selling. They get pretty serious, increased risk of heart attacks, lung disorders, strokes. At times, they seem like threats, or horror movies. Did Stephen King ever try his hand at writing one of those? I’m pretty sure he’d be good at it.

If you think I’m exaggerating, remember Vioxx, that arthritis drug that gave people heart attacks? In retrospect, we should have seen this coming; Vioxx really sounds like a curse, or something you’d yell at someone you really didn’t like. (That’s how I use it today. No one gets it.)

I’d also like to ban the Emergency Broadcast System noise. Not the whole thing—I get why it’s important—just that high-pitched modem-like sound at the beginning. I hate that sound! As a kid, it scared me more than any tornado could. It still does. I mean, it sounds like something received by SETI! Every time I hear it I half expect some alien named Zortron to start addressing all the Earthlings about the new interplanetary regime.

I mean, I do understand the point of it—the noise is supposed to be really jarring and annoying. Couldn’t we just hire a well-known celebrity with an annoying voice to tell everyone to pay attention? Gilbert Gottfried would be a perfect choice, though many people might think the government had bailed out Aflac. But we could clear that up by just having him say “Disaster! Disaster! Pay attention! Not Aflac!”

In any case, I hope we don’t censor things to begin with, but if we do, these are my censorship priorities. But I’ve got others, so stay tuned for another letter if we really start censoring a lot.

Thanks and take care,

Brett Ortler

This is letter #16 to President Obama. I'm sending a letter a day, or thereabouts. See the rest at www.knockoutlit.org/brett.html

Help me get the word out by telling your friends, too. Thanks for reading.

Letter to President Obama #15 | Subject: The White House Dog

Letter to President Obama #15 | Subject: The White House Dog

Dear President Obama,

First of all, I’d like to congratulate you and your family on choosing a dog. I’ve got a few pieces of advice for you and the First Family, and I have a few questions that the general public might be interested in knowing about too.

First of all, I understand you selected a Portuguese Water Dog, because of its hypoallergenic properties. That’s probably a good idea. I have cats and they aren’t exactly hypoallergenic; to be honest, they leave hair all over the place. Because of this I no longer own any white shirts—when I had some all my white shirts immediately became covered in cat fur, so much so that people would think I was some sort of rabid mammal and they’d call Animal Control on me. Mr. President, getting bailed out of a cell is bad enough, but when that cell’s at the pound, it’s much worse. Thankfully, my girlfriend’s pretty nice. Unfortunately, my way of paying her back was letting her adopt a pet after each time she bailed me out. As of this writing, we have 12 cats.

I do have a question about national security and the First Dog—will the dog be anywhere near the Big Red Button? That is to say, as I understand it, somewhere in the White House there’s a Big Red Button that, when pressed, launches a whole bunch of nukes, thereby instigating one big game of atomic catch. I, for one, would like to encourage you to keep the First Dog away from that button—you never know, he could think it was a toy, or you could chuck a toy across the oval office and it could hit the Big Button. And then we’d all be in trouble.

If you think example is facetious, it’s not. Dogs can be inadvertently destructive. Consider my dog—his name is Bratwurst. He’s a wienerdog. Not surprisingly, he loves hot dogs. I was playing with him and I’d set my glasses on the bed. He jumped up onto the bed, crushing my glasses in the process. Later, I superglued them back together, but then he did again! Now imagine if he had jumped on the Big Button. You’d have a mess on your hands, Mr. President; at the very least, you’d have an angry Vladamir Putin on the other line. (Do you ever want an angry guy named Vlad on the other line?)

With that aside, I must commend you on the name of “Bo” for the First Dog, though I must admit that I resent those two letters a bit. During my first game of Monopoly, when I was five years old, I landed on B & O railroad, and I was really excited that I was about to purchase a property that was, as I joyfully exclaimed, “Named after me!” It was only then that Jeff, the player next to me, said, “Yeah, it is just like you, BODY ODOR.” Ever since, I’ve gone by three initials (BEO), not two. I have never forgiven Jeff.

I also have one other question—does the First Dog get Secret Service protection? If so, as an added precaution, maybe you should make him a bulletproof vest that looks like one of those dog sweaters. That’d be a good idea, and it’d probably be warmer too.

Please let me know what you think about these issues.

Sincerely,

Brett Ortler

Letter to President Obama #14 |Subject: The Internet and Facebook

Dear President Obama,

I was glad to see that you started a Facebook page. I must admit that I don’t understand Facebook myself, as there are too many bells and whistles. The first week I joined, I had about a hundred notifications. I didn’t understand some of them. For instance, I was informed that one of my so-called “friends” threw a sheep at me. I was perplexed, and I still am.

Mr. President, has anyone thrown a sheep at you on Facebook? If so, who? Iran? North Korea? Who throws sheep? I guess I could see sheep throwing sheep, but that’s different. If a big sheep were training for the discus at the sheep Olympics, maybe it’d throw a littler sheep for practice or something. That’d make sense. If that were the case I suppose that the little sheep would be OK; I mean, sheep are essentially walking pillows.

Anyway, I’m not writing because of the sheep matter. I’m writing because I have some concerns about technology. First of all, I know your administration is trying to help improve our access to technology and improve technology education. I’m writing because I’d like to encourage you to set up a national tech support line for the Internet.

I’m doing so for very personal reasons—right now, I’m my mother’s tech-support guy, and let’s put it this way, she calls me an awful lot.

Let me explain: My mother got Internet access a year or two ago. Immediately afterwards, she began using search engines, but on her first day she called me, frantic. The conversation went like this:

Mom: Brett, I think the Internet is broken!

Me: Wha? Whaddya mean?

Mom: I wanted to know if Hogan’s Heroes was out on DVD so I decided to try one of those search engine things. So I tried the first one you told me about, and it didn’t work! Then I remembered about that other famous one, and it was broken too! I just got this “not found” message.

Me: OK, ma, what websites did you try?

Mom: The big search engines you told me about: Goggle and Yoho.

Mr. President, I’ve been getting calls like this ever since. Now don’t get me wrong, my mother’s a lovely woman and the greatest mother ever. (Yes, Mr. President, I think my mom's better than yours. But don’t get me wrong, I’m sure your mom’s nice too.)

Anyway, I’m not the only one with such troubles. I know there are a lot of people who have trouble with technology, and a few people even fear it. For instance, I’ve got these friends who think the Terminator movies are documentaries. Let me tell you, they are terrified that a new one is coming out this summer and shiver if you even mention the word California. They’re convinced Arnold and the robots have already taken that state over. (I don’t think they ever saw the 2^nd or 3^rd movie.)

Personally, I’m not that afraid of evil robots. I mean, think about it—if there were evil robots, they’d probably run on Windows, right? I mean, I can’t even watch half an episode of Lost on the Internet without my computer crashing. Defeating evil robots on Windows would be easy, all you’d have to do is to trick them into doing two simple things at the same time and they’d probably burst into flames. Or at least, they’d freeze and fall over.

Now if Apple made evil robots, we might be in trouble. I mean, they’d probably be all chique and stylishly designed, and everyone would want to be attacked by one, because it’d be the thing to do.

In any case, the national tech-support hotline could help allay these fears, and it could help everyday folks out too.

Thanks for your time.

Take care,

Brett Ortler

This is letter #14 to President Obama. Brett's writing (and sending) one a day.

Letter to President Obama #13 | Subject: Zoos

Letter to President Obama #13 | Subject: Zoos

Dear President Obama,

I’m writing because I was on the web and looking at the website for the Federal Bureau of Prisons, but I couldn’t find any information about zoos.

As I understand it, zoos are jails for animals. As I was hitherto unfamiliar with the notion that the U.S. jails animals, I’ve got a few questions. First, please don’t get me wrong, I’m not some crazy Peter Singer animal-rights activist; I’m not against locking up animals if they deserved it, I just want to know what crimes they committed.

And really, when it comes to some species (giraffes!) I’m fine with imprisoning them without a fair trial. Let me explain that last part—I hate giraffes. (You would too if you were 5’6.) When I was three, I threw my Mickey Mouse doll into the giraffe enclosure and one walked up and started chewing on Mickey right in front of me. Then, it bent its neck over the fence and licked me in the face. Enraged, I tried to kick it in the knee, but I couldn’t reach. I was three. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to kick a giraffe in the knee.

Anyway, while I was touring the penitentiary, I did notice a few other things. The jailed animal population seemed disproportionate when compared to the variety of species on the planet. I mean, there are an estimated one million, four hundred thousand species in the world. But most zoos (jails) have similar residents—elephants, the big cats, primates—are these animals particularly criminal? I mean, were all of the Big Cats a bank-robbing ring? (I’ll admit it does sound like a gang name.)

In addition, I don’t think zoos are a great deterrent. I mean, I walked by the seal exhibit and the seals were pretty much having a party. Everyone was clapping their hands (flippers) and the zoo staff were throwing them beach balls, and if a seal balanced the beach ball on its nose, it got a treat. And that treat? A fish head! I mean, beach balls, fish heads? I don’t even get those at my apartment, and I pay rent.

And then there is the often-told story about the child who jumped into the polar bear enclosure at my local zoo and got eaten. Clearly, this bear was in the wrong. But why didn’t they add anything to the bear’s sentence? I mean, that’s a crime, right? Or are we now feeding children to bears? Was that child also an inmate and on death row or something? I’m confused.

Oh, and before I forget. Otters also seem to enjoy serving time. I mean, they are always splashing about. But I have nothing against otters going to jail and not passing go. Let me explain: Have you ever had a telemarketer butcher your name? Yeah, I suppose you know what that’s like too, Mr. Obama. Well, my last name’s Ortler, and a telemarketer once called me and asked for "Mr. or Ms. Otter." I told them to hold on and I proceeded to make a bunch of high-pitched squeaky noises while splashing in the sink. After that, I asked the telemarketer if they happened to be selling invertebrates. When they said no, I told them I was disappointed and hung up. That’s why I don’t like otters.

In any case, if you could help me out with answers to these important questions, I’d appreciate it.

Thanks, and take care.

Brett Ortler

This is letter #13 to President Obama. I'm writing (and sending) one a day. Please feel free to comment, and let me know what you think. Thanks for reading.

Letter to President Obama #12| Subject: Spy Satellites, Stalkers, and Voyager 1 and 2

Letter to President Obama #12| Subject: Spy Satellites, Stalkers, and Voyager 1 & 2

Dear President Obama,

I’m writing because I have a few concerns about personal privacy. To be sure, modern technology poses a serious threat to personal privacy, as we live in an era of widespread handheld electronics, vastly strengthened government power, and the proliferation of readily-available personal information on the Internet.

I’m particularly concerned about spy satellites. It’s not the technology that concerns me that much. I mean, sure, we need to keep an eye on other countries; I’m more concerned about the technicians themselves. For instance, what if one of the spy satellite technicians really was into shoes? Really into shoes. Now I know what you’re thinking, sure, our shoe-obsessed spy satellite technician might have stopped that shoe-bomber guy a little sooner, but I doubt it. He was inside most of the time, and we don’t have x-ray spy satellites, do we? If so, we should probably tell doctors, or at least the writers for Grey’s Anatomy and all those doctor-type shows, as that’d make a cool subplot.

And please don’t think I’m making all this foot fetish stalker stuff up. This actually happened to me, Mr. President. My mother gave me a pair of Minnesota Twins socks, and I mentioned them on a YouTube video. Immediately thereafter I got half a dozen comments, the worst of all came from Hot4UrFeet. Do not friend him on Facebook or Myspace, whatever you do.

Of course we can expect that the spy satellites would be used unprofessionally now and again. This probably happens with all military equipment. I’m sure tanks are taken on joyrides and the occasional M-16 is brought home to scare the neighbors from time to time. So I’m pretty sure that certain non-essential areas would always be under a high degree of surveillance—Daytona Beach at Spring Break, New Orleans in February and March—and so on. But that’s to be expected.

What I mean is—giving someone the world’s largest telephoto lens means you’re giving them a lot of power; I wouldn’t give that power to several of my uncles, that’s for sure. Even a benign hobby might hinder our national security. If one of the satellite technicians was a really avid birder, they might spend half a day zooming in on birds. This might make for a great picture (and a great idea for a birding calendar—Birds from Space!), but birds aren’t terrorists, Mr. President.

I’m just concerned that we vet our applicants properly.

In addition, I understand that in the late 1970s, we sent along two golden records on the Voyager 1 and Voyager 2 spacecraft. These records featured pictures, music, and basic information about humans and our solar system, all of which were encoded in a universal, easy-to-understand format that’d be simple for any advanced civilization to access.

In effect, this is the equivalent of sending a mix-tape along with an invitation to come over for snacks at our house. But Mr. President, what if our alien houseguests aren’t omnivorous bipedals like ourselves. What if they are large raptor-like-things that prefer to eat medium-to-large sized mammals (us) or worse, small mammals (our pets)! And what if some of them go by the name of Horus?

Now I don’t think this might happen, but it’s my job to ask the questions nobody’s asking.

Thank you, and take care.

Sincerely,

Brett Ortler

This is letter #12 to President Obama. Brett's writing one a day. And yep, he's sending them.

Letter to President Obama #11 | Subject: Predator Drones and the Microsoft Paperclip Guy

Letter to President Obama #11 | Subject: Predator Drones and the Microsoft Paperclip Guy

Dear President Obama,

I’ve got something of an odd request for you—I’d like to borrow a Predator Drone for a weekend. Now, don’t worry, I had a lot of remote-controlled cars as a kid, so I’m pretty sure I could learn how to fly it. To back my claim up, you should know that I’m really good at video games with airplanes. Especially Top-Gun for the Nintendo Entertainment System. (I wasn’t very good at Captain Skyhawk for the NES, but that shouldn’t be held against me. That game involved aliens and was pretty hard.)

First off, I know we’re using the Predators a lot, and I’m not asking to use an active-duty Predator. That’d be crazy. Instead, I know we’re building a lot of those things, and before they can be shipped overseas, they have to be declared flight-worthy, right? This is where I can help! I can test the Predator for airworthiness and then let you know how that specific plane panned out.

Of course, to adequately test the Predator to the satisfaction of The Air Force, I’d need the requisite camera gear and I’d especially need working weapons. That last part is very important. But I wouldn’t need a full complement of two Hellfire missiles; I’m pretty sure I can get by with just one. Like I said, I’m pretty good at video games. And when I think about it, I probably don’t even need all the camera gear. If necessary, I’ll just put my digital camera on video mode and tape it onto one of the wings.

Let me explain why I’d like to borrow one of the Drones. As you’re now probably aware, I’ve been writing you letters fairly often—about once a day so far. I use Microsoft Word to write my letters. If you’ve ever used Microsoft Word, you’re probably aware that every time you try to do anything in the program, an “assistant” immediately pops up. This assistant also happens to look like a paperclip. When he pops up, he says, “It looks like you’re writing a letter!” He does this whether you’re writing a letter, a paper, or just typing up a grocery list. He’s apparently obsessed with letters. (Rumor has it he’s an ex postal worker.)

What set me over the edge was that this—the whole time I’ve been writing you letters—clearly identifiable letters that begin with “Dear Mr. President,” our paperclip friend is nowhere to be seen, though this is the same version of the program and everything. This time around, he’s spooked. This makes me think that he’s a coward, probably afraid to talk to you, Mr. President. That makes me like him less, but Mr. President, I’ve hated that paper clip for a long time. I was an English major in college, and we had to write a lot of papers, and that stupid paper clip thought every one of them was a letter.

I’ve often wondered why; maybe he has a long lost lover and he writes all sorts of letters that he can’t send. I mean, we’ve already established that he’s a coward. Given he’s a piece of office equipment (and a minor, dispensable one at that), his “lover” is probably lame anyway—maybe a set of post-it-notes, probably a stapler. All I want to do with the Predator Drone is to put him out of our misery and save us all a little strife. It’d be doing a public service, Mr. President. Opinion polls should tell you that. I’ve conducted an informal opinion poll (involving me, my girlfriend and my cats) and all of us agree—Clippit, the paperclip, has got to go.

We think America would agree. Please let me know what you think, and thanks for your consideration.

Take care,

Brett Ortler

This is letter #11 in a series to President Obama. You can see the rest at www.knockoutlit.org/brett.html

Letter to President Obama #10 | Subject: Spies, the Patriot Act, and the NSA

Letter to President Obama #10 | Subject: Spies, the Patriot Act, and the NSA

Dear President Obama,

I’m writing because I have a few questions and concerns about the National Security Agency, the Patriot Act, and the espionage world, generally.

First, I’ve been trying to get in touch with the National Security Agency, but I’m having a hard time. This was a little surprising because I’ve been talking on my phone a lot lately and from what I’ve read in the papers, I thought those guys were monitoring everything. At first I was sure they were just busy, but it’s been like a month, and I must have been recorded at least a couple dozen times. Doesn’t the NSA have voice mail? (If not, maybe they should get an answering service.) This seems a little unprofessional on their part, I have to admit. Then again, when I called, I didn’t think to leave a number, as I thought that’d be a little redundant. So maybe it’s my fault.

Anyway, I have a question about the Patriot Act. I understand that under the Patriot Act the government can now keep track of books I check out at the library and purchase at the bookstore. Now I don’t like this idea at all, but that’s not the main reason why I’m writing. I’ll just straight out ask my question: Did the NSA also hire a literary critic?

Let me explain: I recently started going to the new library in town. After every visit, I get an unmarked letter with no return address or identification. I assume these are from the NSA, and judging by the critical response to my selections, I’m assuming you’ve hired a literary critic. Let me just say, Mr. President, that the NSA literary critic is really far off base. I’ve been getting these letters for weeks and the NSA critic keeps suggesting that I read crap—Deepak Chopra, I’m OK, You’re OK, and all kinds of Sean Hannity books.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying I’m currently reading the finest literature. (I must admit that it’s a little embarrassing to admit that the NSA happened upon my library record when both Harry Potter and Twilight were on my account— but it’s not like I’m always reading vampire love stories or books that feature talking hats and children with magic wands.) But the NSA suggestions are worse than what I'm reading already; I mean, Who Moved My Cheese?

And Mr. President, why is the NSA critic always suggesting that I read 1984? Of all the good books to pick, why that one? Is that some sort of ironic joke?

Please let me know what you think about these matters, and thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

Brett Ortler

Letter to President Obama #9 | Subject: NASA, Outer Space, and Constellations

Letter to President Obama #9 | Subject: NASA, Outer Space, and Constellations

Dear President Obama,

I’m writing because there are a few concerns about NASA that I have, and these concerns are never discussed in the mainstream media.

First of all, congratulations on the space program, and please give props to whoever named the areas of the moon. I mean, the Sea of Tranquility is a great name; that guy should definitely get a raise. I was a little confused though, when I found out that all of the areas on the moon have Latin, not English names. Is it true that Catholic priests named the moon?

Then again, I suppose Latin is better than some languages. I mean, imagine if they chose German! As an example of how creepy that’d be, I’m including Neil Armstrong’s famous first words on the moon, only in German: Das ist ein kleiner Schritt für einen Menschen, aber ein großer Sprung für die Menschheit!

Scary, right? And you have to admit—the German word for humanity (Menschheit) sounds more like a disease than anything. To prove this, I just called one of my friends on the phone, and I pretended to be sick. The conversation went like this:

Friend: You sound sick. What do you have?

Me: Menschheit.

Friend: Oh no! That sounds exotic!

Me: You could say that.

And while I do think the moon was well-named, whoever named the constellations should be fired. They look nothing like the objects they are supposed to represent—they’re like ancient abstract art. Now, don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with abstract art, but if we don’t tell people it’s abstract, they’ll miss the point. I mean, when I first encountered Cubist art, I didn’t know it was art—I just thought it was a bunch of geometric shapes with cancer; I felt bad for them, the poor, sick triangles and circles, with parallelograms and rhombuses springing forth uncontrollably.

Worse than that, many of the constellations are also indecent! According to my constellation book, many constellations have classical origins, and several are named after the famous heroines and goddesses of Greek mythology. In almost every depiction, these women are nude! That means there are half a dozen topless women in the sky; it’s like Girls Gone Wild up there!

I mean, consider the princess Andromeda—classical sources say she was one of the most beautiful women in the world, and she’s almost always depicted nude—but according to the accompanying myth, she’s chained up to a rock too! Great, when I want to teach my son about the constellations, what am I supposed to say when he asks who Andromeda is? Oh, by the way son, that’s the world’s most beautiful woman in bondage. If I say that, he’ll ask, “what’s bondage?” And then I’ll tell him to ask his mother.

I mean, with children, you give them any information and there’s another question. This is especially true about sex; it’s like a perverted version of If You Give A Mouse A Cookie.

Finally, even some of the modern names are a little creepy. The Hubble Telescope has made some wonderful discoveries, but one of the most famous pictures associated with it refers to an area that’s commonly called the “Horse Head Nebula.” Since when did we start naming things after The Godfather?

I’d appreciate a response to these important inquiries.

Sincerely,

Brett Ortler