Letter to President Obama #41 | Subject: Baked Goods, the Internet, and The Afterlife

Dear President Obama,



I was using my computer on the Internet the other day and I got a notification from my security program that a website was “attempting to send me a cookie.” Now I don’t know why that’s the name they chose for those little bits of data that help website track their users. Nevertheless, it was a good choice, because I can never resist a cookie, even if it’s virtual.



But really, who refuses a cookie? The only other time I’ve turned down a cookie was in a video game. In the game, you fought all these monsters and got these prizes afterwards, hamburgers, milkshakes, and sometimes, cookies. But sometimes you could only carry so much stuff, so you’d have to leave it behind. Then the screen would read, “Brett decided to abandon the cookie.”



That’s probably the saddest sentence I’ve ever heard.



I do think it’s a little unfair that the computing term is universally known as the cookie. I mean, if I ran a muffin company and my website were sending cookies out to everyone, I’d be mad. Then again, if I ran a muffin company, I’d probably eat breakfast more often.



Given the choice, I accept all cookies, virtual or not. Even if someone gave me a poisoned cookie, I’d probably take it and eat it, because if I died, I could at least say that I got to eat a cookie first, which means that I’d die happy.



And in the afterlife, I’d be beaming and everyone will be bummed because the conversation would go like this:



Recently Deceased Person #1: How’d you die?

Me: I died because of a poisoned cookie. How about you?

Recently Deceased Person #1: No fair. I got attacked by an angry stork.



Of course, cookies are best when served with milk. As a duo, cookies and milk are the superstars of the culinary world. They are inseparable, at least on screen. But I’ve always wondered what their relationship is like behind the scenes. I’d like to know if they are really good friends, or if they had more of a contentious William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy thing going on. In fact, I’d like to see the E True Hollywood Story of cookie and milk. Of course, it’d probably include a lot of less than savory material—I’m betting that Milk is pretty weepy and spills her guts all the time, especially whenever there’s any mention of her erstwhile lover, coffee. And then cookie is probably all macho and tough, but I bet he has some serious chemical dependency issues (there’s a lot of preservatives in there!). I’m pretty sure the E True Hollywood Story’s haunting final shot could be of a pile of syringes and a desiccated clump of stale cookie crumbs on a hotel floor.



There’s only one negative association I have with cookies, and that’s the Keebler elves. Let me put it this way, I ate a lot of cookies as a kid, and I’m short and I have pointy ears and I do not think this is a coincidence. What if cookies are the elves’ recruitment tool? Plus, how can we be sure such food is safe? Are foods that created by magical creatures (Lucky Charms, the Keebler Elves, Count Chocula) inspected by the Food and Drug Administration? If so, by whom? Harry Potter? If so, cool!



I went looking for the Keebler elves once, as I understood that they lived in trees. So I went from tree to tree inspecting the various cavities and holes, but I only found a family of angry squirrels. This got me thinking—are the Keebler elves squirrels? If so, that’s strange.



Thanks for your attention, and take care.



Brett Ortler



This is letter #41 to President Obama. These are jokes. If you like them, please comment and please tell your friends. I haven't had a response yet, but the Prez has a lot of other things to do, so I can't blame him.

Letter to President Obama #40 | Subject: Cartoons

Dear President Obama,

In my experience, cartoons are quite effective when selling things to children, but the U.S. government's record on utilizing cartoons as an educational tool is mixed, at best. There have been notable successes-- perennial favorites like Smokey Bear and Woodsy Owl and "Give a Hoot, Don't Pollute" campaign.

Nevertheless, there have been failures--for instance, thanks to the McGruff "Take a Bite Out of Crime" campaign, I'm always tempted to bite criminals when I see them. I'll admit that if everyone in society bit criminals, that would be a pretty good deterrent, but as far as I know, I was the only one to do this, and I got a big old black eye for my trouble.

To be fair, the private sector has had failures too. For instance, every time I think of Trix, I think of a bunch of kids starving a rabbit. Animal cruelty rarely makes me think of breakfast, that's for sure.

In any case, many governmental organizations don't have cartoon campaigns at all! This seems like a glaring error, as that means there are no cartoon ambassadors for the military. Of course, because we're talking national defense, we'd want to promote two different ideas at the same time--one, that the U.S. is a rational and diplomatic nation, and two, that the U.S. is fully prepared to defend herself when necessary. This would require a good-cop, bad-cop sort of set up.

The good cop could be First Sargent Friendly from "your Department of Defense" and he'd be kind, generous, and willing to listen. His bad-cop pal would be a pro-wrestler-sized-commando simply referred to as "the Department of Offense." We could then show First Sargent Friendly cordially talking to our would-be-enemy and being really diplomatic about things, listening to our enemy's reasoning and arguments intently, getting him a cup of coffee, and always quick to proffer a compromise solution that works for all parties. When this appears ineffective, Friendly perserveres, while quickly glancing at his watch and taking note of the time; while Friendly's still talking, The Department of Offense is slowly climbing up the ropes of the ring. (Oh, I forgot to mention, for this episode, they just happen to be next to a wrestling ring in a stadium with a capacity crowd.)

If Friendly doesn't reach a conclusion in time, he'll quickly step out of the way as the Dept. of Offense leaps down, and WHAMMO, our enemy is eating a foot-sandwich.

To give such characters added depth, we could give each of them pets. Friendly could have a pet Dove or a Butterfly or something and we could call it Harmony. The Dept. of Offense could have a pet too--maybe an oversized vampire bat named Impending Doom.

The referee could have a United Nations jersey or something and the judges could be members of the Security Council. If this campaign were successful, perhaps a spin-off could happen at the U.N.; every country in the U.N. would get to pick a representative for the throwdown (I'm glad Brock Lesnar is American!) and then it'd on--U.N. headquarters would be a total cagematch and all resolutions would be decided by no-holds-barred matches. If countries were allied, they could fight in a tag team match, and so on.

This pro-wrestling, in turn, could replace actual war, thereby (a) making life better and (b) always ensuring that something interesting is on TV. Even if the U.N. wrestling league is a pie in the sky idea, I think it's pretty apparent that our military should be represented in cartoon form soon.

Please ask the folks at the D.O.D. to look into this for me.

Brett

Letter to President Obama #39 | Subject: Romance Novels and Soap Operas

Letter to President Obama #39 | Subject: Romance Novels and Soap Operas
Dear President Obama,

I'm writing because I'd like to discuss a pair of topics that don't get much coverage in the mainstream media--romance novels and soap operas.

When I think of romance novels, I think of Fabio (and butter). As you probably know, Fabio was famous for being on about every romance novel cover during the '80s and '90s, and while I developed an inherent distate for him (read: jealousy), I did develop a grudging respect for the guy after reading about an incident that happened to him at an amusement park.

Apparently, Fabio was invited to take the inaugural ride on a Busch Gardens rollercoaster, but the genius who created the ride thought it'd be a good idea to install a full-fledged pond immediately beneath the ride. This was problematic for one simple reason--birds live in ponds, Mr. President. (To my mind, this seems a bit like installing nesting boxes for large birds in the middle of an LAX runway.)

Well, Fabio was enjoying the best part of the ride (where it goes 70 miles per hour) and then WHAMMO, a 20-pound goose hits him in the face.Luckily, he was OK, except for a minor cut. When I heard about it, I was surprised that he survived; I mean, I kind of expected his head to fall off. I credit his surival to the fact that he's got a big head and that geese are essentially flying pillows.

Nevertheless, if Fabio had lost his head, that doesn't mean he would have been out of a job. Instead, it would have opened up a whole new market of romance novels: Zombie romance novels. (Just imagine it--Fabio is still on the cover, only his body is holding his head while it gives all the ladies out there a smoldering, come-hither look. He'd still be alive and all--sort of like Orpheus, just way less poetic.)

Zombie-themed titles would be a lot of fun too. You could have something like, "A Love That Wouldn't Die" or My Body or My Face: Now You Have to Choose.

In fact, if we chose that last title, we could make the book a choose-your-own adventure book! An excerpt might read like this:

You have forgotten Fabio's head in the other room again, but his sculpted body is ready and waiting. You can hear him sweet-talking you from a distance.

Turn to Page 65 if you choose to ignore his head and ravage his body.

Turn to Page 98 if you choose to go out to the other room and listen to the latest love poem he has composed (in his head!) for you.

(Fun fact: When you throw a romance novel in the fire, it burns with desire.)

Of course, when I think of romance novels, I also think of soap operas. I've always found it strange that some soap operas take place in hospitals, which don't really seem all that romantic to me. (The coffee/antiseptic smell has never really done it for me as an aphrodisiac.)

Then again, the hospital setting does provide some interesting plot devices, and from the few episodes I've seen, soap operas are all about those. (In fact, some of the writing seems a little like mad libs. Seances? Yes! Ghosts? OK!)

Anyway, as far as I know, no soap opera character has ever contracted MRSA (Methicillin Resistant Staphylococcus Aureus) and that's pretty common at hospitals. I think we should give one of the bold and the beautiful beauties this--let's call her Porsche--she could contract it and we could show her fighting it while receiving high-doses of antibiotics and many visits from her estranged husband, Chet, and then we'd show the illicit visits from her secret lover, the gift shop cashier, Dirk, (who has wooed her with his copius supply of flowers and bears and chocolates).

Then, she could be wooed by her husband's dedication and fall back in love with him, just before he develops skin-eating boils, providing an acid test of their relationship. (The boils, of course, are just a ruse by the husband, who wants to know the true status of their marriage--when he's confident that she's still in love with him, he dramatically tells her the truth, and reproposes marriage to her, just after removing his boils. Unsure of what to do with the fake boils, they put them on the dog. The dog is displeased, but falls asleep and they hold an immediate service in the church chapel.)

(Incorporating the morgue would also be an interesting touch, though that could get really gross pretty quickly.)

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

Brett

Letter to President Obama #39 | Subject: Romance Novels and Soap Operas

Letter to President Obama #39 | Subject: Romance Novels and Soap Operas
Dear President Obama,

I'm writing because I'd like to discuss a pair of topics that don't get much coverage in the mainstream media--romance novels and soap operas.

When I think of romance novels, I think of Fabio (and butter). As you probably know, Fabio was famous for being on about every romance novel cover during the '80s and '90s, and while I developed an inherent distate for him (read: jealousy), I did develop a grudging respect for the guy after reading about an incident that happened to him at an amusement park.

Apparently, Fabio was invited to take the inaugural ride on a Busch Gardens rollercoaster, but the genius who created the ride thought it'd be a good idea to install a full-fledged pond immediately beneath the ride. This was problematic for one simple reason--birds live in ponds, Mr. President. (To my mind, this seems a bit like installing nesting boxes for large birds in the middle of an LAX runway.)

Well, Fabio was enjoying the best part of the ride (where it goes 70 miles per hour) and then WHAMMO, a 20-pound goose hits him in the face.Luckily, he was OK, except for a minor cut. When I heard about it, I was surprised that he survived; I mean, I kind of expected his head to fall off. I credit his surival to the fact that he's got a big head and that geese are essentially flying pillows.

Nevertheless, if Fabio had lost his head, that doesn't mean he would have been out of a job. Instead, it would have opened up a whole new market of romance novels: Zombie romance novels. (Just imagine it--Fabio is still on the cover, only his body is holding his head while it gives all the ladies out there a smoldering, come-hither look. He'd still be alive and all--sort of like Orpheus, just way less poetic.)

Zombie-themed titles would be a lot of fun too. You could have something like, "A Love That Wouldn't Die" or My Body or My Face: Now You Have to Choose.

In fact, if we chose that last title, we could make the book a choose-your-own adventure book! An excerpt might read like this:

You have forgotten Fabio's head in the other room again, but his sculpted body is ready and waiting. You can hear him sweet-talking you from a distance.

Turn to Page 65 if you choose to ignore his head and ravage his body.

Turn to Page 98 if you choose to go out to the other room and listen to the latest love poem he has composed (in his head!) for you.

(Fun fact: When you throw a romance novel in the fire, it burns with desire.)

Of course, when I think of romance novels, I also think of soap operas. I've always found it strange that some soap operas take place in hospitals, which don't really seem all that romantic to me. (The coffee/antiseptic smell has never really done it for me as an aphrodisiac.)

Then again, the hospital setting does provide some interesting plot devices, and from the few episodes I've seen, soap operas are all about those. (In fact, some of the writing seems a little like mad libs. Seances? Yes! Ghosts? OK!)

Anyway, as far as I know, no soap opera character has ever contracted MRSA (Methicillin Resistant Staphylococcus Aureus) and that's pretty common at hospitals. I think we should give one of the bold and the beautiful beauties this--let's call her Porsche--she could contract it and we could show her fighting it while receiving high-doses of antibiotics and many visits from their estranged husband, Chet, and then we'd show the illicit visits from her secret lover, the gift shop cashier, Dirk, (who has wooed her with his copius supply of flowers and bears and chocolates).

Then, she could be wooed by her husband's dedication and fall back in love with him, just before he develops skin-eating boils, providing an acid test of their relationship. (The boils, of course, are just a ruse by the husband, who wants to know the true status of their marriage--when he's confident that she's still in love with him, he dramatically tells her the truth, and reproposes marriage to her, just after removing his boils. Unsure of what to do with the fake boils, they put them on the dog. The dog is displeased, but falls asleep and they hold an immediate service in the church chapel.)

(Incorporating the morgue would also be an interesting touch, though that could get really gross pretty quickly.)

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

Brett

Letter to President Obama #38 | Subject: Conspiracy Theories

Letter to President Obama #38 | Subject: Conspiracy Theories

Dear President Obama,

So it’s almost the 40th anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landing, and that’s got me thinking of conspiracy theories. I’ve always thought it was strange that a small percentage of people believe that the moon landings were a hoax. I mean, if you ask me, I think the evidence is pretty definitive—the moon rocks, the pictures of Earth from the Moon, and the general hassle that it would be to orchestrate a multigenerational worldwide conspiracy involving tens of thousands of people and keeping it secret for 40 years.

But, if the moon landings were really filmed in a studio, I want to get to the more important question—why didn’t we ever make that a full-length movie? That set design was great! And the reduced gravity, it looked so real! Needless to say, we probably should cast different people this time around. I mean, all of the Apollo 11 astronauts were decent looking guys, but let’s be honest—Armstrong famously stammered over his big line, leading some to the impression that he skipped an indefinite article in “one small step for (a) man,” leaving himself open to criticism from self-appointed grammarians and jerks everywhere. If you ask me, I think he did a pretty good job, but critics would probably have the director’s head (Tim Burton?) if he were to be in the sequel.

It doesn’t matter which actors you pick, really, but props will be key to this movie, as we’ll want to take advantage of the cool low gravity environment. There should definitely be a trampoline (how much fun would that be?) and we’ll have to write several dramatic high jumps into the script, maybe as our hero (a gymnast?) flees his enemies (a track and field team bent on taking over the crater/neighborhood?) by leaping straight up fifty feet into a waiting moonicopter.
In any event, the movie should also include pogo sticks. Maybe pogo sticks could be to the moon what cars are to us.

Speaking of Apollo 11, I remember there was a guy running around trying to get Buzz Aldrin to swear on a Bible that he landed on a moon and I remember Aldrin eventually punched him in the face. I thought that was fantastic. I think it would have been even better if Buzz would have hit the guy in the face with the Bible. If he had, could he have been charged with assault with a deadly weapon? If so, awesome, but weird.

Anyway, I guess I can understand why people are skeptical about the moon landings; I mean, first of it all, it’s complicated stuff, and to understand a lot of the explanations about why the photos are real, you’ve got to do the work to understand the science of light rays bending and so forth. And science can be confusing, especially today. Subatomic physics are a good example—many physicists speak a language that could fit right into an forwarded email message averring claims about a one-world-government and the Illuminati.

I mean, contemporary physics actually argues that most of the mass in universe consists of “dark matter” (the enemy of the Illuminati?) and they use other nefarious-sounding codewords like “the god particle.” I hope that last term is just a play on words because it’d be pretty depressing for us to physically locate a divine entity of some sort and then have Him or Her get eaten by an amoeba or something. The only way I’d express a divine entity at the subatomic level is if it had a beard of some sort, gluons, zero spin quarks, whatever. A beard is sort of necessity.

I guess that’s how conspiracies start—there’s a gulf of knowledge that gets filled in with, well, filler. Anything that works. And if something gets discredited, it’s pretty easy to make up something else to fit the theme. To prove my point, consider shriners. After all, no one knows what they really do, they wear those funny hats, and they have some sort of shrine. And they really like kids. If spun maliciously, that could all sound pretty bad.
To debunk my own conspiracy—unless their world-conquering army consists of a bunch of sick kids flanked by old guys in go-karts, I don’t think that they’re up to no good.

In any case, let me know what you think.

Brett

Letter to President Obama #37 | Subject: The Fourth of July and Parades

Dear President Obama,

As you’re well aware, it was the Fourth of July a little more than a week ago. I forgot the holiday was coming up, as I was pretty busy moving into my new digs. For a while there, I thought I’d moved into the wrong neighborhood, as my first week here was full of inexplicable bangs and booms and pops. Let me tell you, from a distance it’s pretty hard to tell the difference between a rifle retort and a black cat firecracker. And I live in a pretty rural area and since many people (my parents!) have told me that I look a lot like a deer, I wasn’t about to take any chances. (Admittedly, it doesn’t help that my favorite hat looks like a pair of antlers.)

Anyway, it took my girlfriend and me a week to realize that we were hearing fireworks, not gunshots, so it was a while before we stopped cowering on the floor. (In retrospect, that time was pretty productive; we have really clean floors now.)

You probably think that I’m exaggerating, but in my first few days here I met my new neighbors and one of them of had a HUGE confederate flag in their garage. I’ll admit, this was a little spooky. When I saw it, I wanted to mention the 1^st Minnesota and Gettysburg, but I figured that wouldn’t exactly be neighborly. Then again, referring to the Civil War as the “War of Northern Aggression” isn’t exactly neighborly either. (Especially in Minnesota!)

Anyway, I digress. So I wanted to express my patriotism for the Fourth, as I love this country. So I attended a 4^th of July parade, but when it ended I didn’t feel particularly patriotic. To be honest, I felt pain more than anything else—Mr. President, when Jolly Ranchers are thrown at you from a float moving at twelve miles per hour, they really hurt. By the time the Marching Band and the VFW and the Lions Club floats all went by, I had welts the size of nations. Everyone else was ready to stage readings of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence but I needed a nurse.

So I went home and tried to teach my family (my cats) something about patriotism. In short, my cats aren’t patriotic, as they don’t understand the concept. I tried to explain it to them by defining freedom in terms they could understand: I asked them how they would feel if someone tried to take away their right to sleep. They didn’t understand this, as the only English phrases they understand have to do with food, water, and of course, get-the-hell-out-of-the-refrigerator-you’re-not-produce. (Seriously. Every time I open the fridge my cat Xerox tries to get in. I don’t know why.)

To help them learn, I tried to be more direct. Every time they fell asleep, I walked up to them with one of those marshmallow roasting skewers (the kind with the metal fork on the end) and I poked them in the stomach until they woke up. Naturally, they weren’t pleased by this development, but I wanted to drive the point home, so every time I poked them, I said a word that I associate with a lack of freedom—to help my cats develop a Pavlovian association of sorts. For a few weeks, I woke them up and then screamed FASCISMO! The next week, I’d jab the skewer at them and start singing “the Internationale.” Finally, for the last week of their training, I’d jab the cats and immediately make references to Evildoers while continually referring to myself as the Decider. Of course, the training had no effect; they’re cats. On the plus side, they did develop an inherent distrust of marshmallow skewers, which I suppose is good.

All in all, it was a good, if painful, Fourth of July. I hope yours went well too.

Take care, and thanks for reading.

Brett

Letter to President Obama #36 | Subject: A Housewarming Present from the President?

Dear President Obama,

First of all, my apologies for not writing sooner. I’ve been pretty busy for the past few weeks, as I’ve been moving into a new house. Nevertheless, I’ve been scribbling down notes for these letters, so here we go:

I didn’t know how to set this up, so I’m just going to out-and-out ask it: Can I have a housewarming present from the White House? Not from you, personally, I mean; I know you’re basically the busiest dude on the planet right now. Instead, I’d just like something that had been at the White House that you don’t really need. As things currently stand, the only items that I have from the White House are those Christmas ornaments they sell every year and some of those White House Easter Eggs. Unfortunately, I only have ones from the Bush Administration, as a friend of a friend got them for our family. Don’t get me wrong, they’re pretty nice, but it’s a little weird at Easter. I’ll see the Easter Eggs on display and then I’ll inevitably think of Dick Cheney in an Easter Bunny costume, which is basically the worst image imaginable. In this recurring mental image, he’s always armed with a shotgun in a blaze orange bunny costume and slowly hopping towards me. Then I’ll snap out if it and the Easter Egg hunt starts, but by then it’s too late and I’m hesitant and wary and subconsciously shielding my face.

So an Obama Administration Easter Egg would be great, as it’d help me cleanse my emotional palette, so to speak. I’m not asking for anything big—a White House pen or a towel would be cool (though if it’s a Clinton-era towel, I’d really want it sanitized first). Anyway, if those are too spendy, that’s ok; the weirder the object, the better. Maybe just a Tupperware top that the White House chef can’t find the container for—that happens to me all the time. In fact, I’m pretty confident that I could start my own business just manufacturing extra Tupperware tops and containers; then I’d sell them separately and people would be able to create a new pair. Conceivably, one could do the same thing with other things that often go missing, like socks or pet cats, or children. Anyway, you could find one of these and you could just write “FROM THE WHITE HOUSE” on it or something and that’d do. I’d totally frame it and put it on my wall.

If that sort of thing isn’t available, I just have to ask, did Nixon ever make a mix tape? I knew he was big in recording everything (and himself, which I never really understood); anyway, if he made a mix tape, that’d be great. I’ll take a copy. On second thought, maybe that’s not a great idea. I’m pretty sure that he liked music I’d hate. I just looked up Nixon’s favorite song and apparently it was Richard Rodgers and his song, “Victory at Sea.” This doesn’t sound promising, unless it’s a cool Johnny Horton “The Battle of New Orleans” sort of thing.

Update: I just listened to the Rodgers song on YouTube. It was more than a little terrible. With my luck, Nixon probably liked Lawrence Welk too. And I’ve reached my lifetime quota on champagne music, so please scratch that idea. In retrospect, a pen or a towel would be best.

Thanks for reading, and take care.

Brett Ortler

P.S. This is letter #36 to President Obama. Brett was writing a letter a day, but then he moved. So there was a delay. Now he's writing letters again. Let him know what you think, and he'll let you know if he gets a response.