Fan Mail!

Good people,

I have gotten comments from the famous Anonymous! You may know Anonymous from such writings as Primary Colors (1996), Imperial Hubris (2004), and The Epic of Gilgamesh (2150-2000 BC), or E. Giggy as we used to call it back around the way. It goes without saying that to have a published author of such standing read my blog is truly a privilege.

But I cannot lie to you dear readers. Anon and I do not see eye-to-eye on some things. Below is a comment that Anon left in the comments section of "My Doorman Got Laid Off Too":

Hello, I stumbled upon your blog, and it seems to me as if it is the perfect outlet for you to blow off steam. I mean seriously, who would put a booger on the mail? Unfortunately, You remind of the mail clerk in the New York Lottery commercial where he walks around the office and talks about all the rich white people who get the "big bucks" but he's holding out to play for "jumbo bucks." Don't worry, I understand the irony you tried to impart on the blog: 90's wannabe tree hugging (only tree huggers post whiny blogs like this rather than actually find a job that enlightens their soul that also pays the big-- excuse me JUMBO bucks) hipster works for "the man" who makes six to seven figures. What I don't understand is how someone who seems intelligent enough write an eloquent blog cannot convey to the HCIT that mail cannot be overnighted to London. Grow a pair. I hope you enjoy your time off, and beware of splinters while making love to the cyprus in the park where you sip mint medley tea and read books by Dostoyevsky


Ouch! Well, at least Anon thought I was "intelligent enough." I responded with the following, (I've corrected two typos and added one joke, see forest fires):

Well, "Anonymous #1" I hope that you did not "stumble across" my blog on company time, that would be just plain wrong, a form of corporate thievery if you will. I will not condone such behavior.

As for this lottery commercial I cannot comment on it as I have not seen it but I will say this: the lottery seems a concentration of both the success and failure of capitalism. It is clearly a triumph in the ideological realm as just about everyone in the US accepts it as "logical" or "just" or "necessary." Even those who don't accept it putter along accepting its supposed inevitability. Yet it is also a failure. It is the the case that literally millions of people every week see their only hope of escape from the grind of capitalism's daily functions and relatively low pay (which is not six or seven figures for approximately 9/10 of the population) is by throwing their money away on the insanely small chance of "hitting it big."

As for the term "90's wannabe tree hugging" which I can only assume applies to me I find this phrase confusing. Were the '90s the pinnacle of tree hugging, was that our golden era? Shit, I missed out!

[Note to self: cancel treehugging session for later today. It's been done.]

Or wait, am I hipster? In this day and age calling someone a hipster is not unlike calling a woman a witch in Salem. To deny it is proof of guilt. I will avoid a critique of hipster culture as I'm sure you'll only take it as "self-deprecating irony." Wait did that just make me a hipster? Shit.

Perhaps I am a treehugging hipster that enjoys reading Dostoyevsky?

Me thinks someone's been reading Stuff White People Like: A Definitive Guide to the Unique Taste of Millions...which--oh snap!--makes you a hipster since it's full of "self-deprecating irony" and that jerkoff pocketed a $300,000 advance, that is the ultimate in hipster elitism right there my friend.

Maybe I'm being too hard on you. I didn't mean to imply that you read books as I know that might cause some embarrassment in your circle of rightwing blowhards. Perhaps your reference to my treehugging hipster persona was simply a throwback to when good Americans, proudly philistine, would throw together nonsensical slanders like "pinko hippie." (Seriously, either one's trying to take over the world through communist domination or one wants to hang out naked upstate smoking pot all day--which is it? They have very little in common).

Later on it seems to be implied that I want to be more than "just friends" with the trees as you caution me to "beware of splinters while making love to the cyprus in the park." Thank you for the tip. "Only you can prevent forest fires" takes on a whole new meaning here.

First, I must confess that although Anonymous #1 has painted a scary accurate picture of me (much better than I myself could have) as a treefucker I do not know what a "cyprus" is. I know Cyprus is an island in the Mediterranean. (Do you want to add "backpacker" to my description now?) Is it also a type of foliage? A tree, a bush? Or is "cyprus in the park" the full name like "weeping willow?" Please enlighten.

Second, it never takes very long before rightwing goons find a way to link whatever their attack is to the tired, tired metaphor of fucking. Buddy, that says a lot more about you than me.

Lastly, I will simply state that I have many times told people many things that that they have unconsciously and consciously ignored simply because they did not want to do it and assumed that there will always be someone below them to pick up the mess. (Reread the blog, compadre.) Perhaps the best metaphor for this is that there are sections of the US that have "solved" there garbage problem by exporting their "excess trash" to impoverished nations for a small fee. Think about that.

P.S. I, D Money, am using my time off to write many things. Maybe you'll see D Money's name in print one day. Until then look out for more blog postings in the future.