Advertisements, love letters, and rejections
March 2, 1998
Imagine you work in advertizing. Pick something to advertize, or have somebody else pick something for you. Make a poster for it. Hang it on an imaginary telephone pole. Then notice another ad on another imaginary telephone pole. Fall in love with the person who made it. Write them a love letter. Imagine now that you are the person that somebody else has written a love letter to. Write them a rejection letter.
Note: I took some liberties with the transcription of these. Because many of the ads were dependent on graphics, and i dont own a scanner, i doodled VERY ROUGH approximations of the originals using ClarisDraw. The originals are much better, and i have them if anyone is interested.
And, oh, because the file is so graphic-heavy, it is attached only as a ClarisWorks document. I will print out a few copies for those who want it, and are unable to access it with the latest postmodern technology. --adam
/ ORANGE-Y, FRIGID, & FUN! \
/ TOE-SHAPED POPSICLES!¨ \
/ TASTE AN AMERICAN SUMMER! \
166 Waterman Street
Providence RI 02906
Beachside Popsicle Stand
512 Ocean Walk
Anytown USA 00000
Dear Sir or Madam:
I visited your place of purveyance of popsicles Thursday last; it was, I believe, June 26th.
I was interested, as you may recall, in the orange-flavored toe-shaped popsicles; I had seen a flyer further up the boardwalk which drew me onwards toward your business. By the time I arrived, my mouth was watering in anticipation and I committed the rather embarrassing faux pas of drooling down your shirt. You were very understanding, and gave me, "on the house", a complete set of 10 popsicles of all sizes and orientations. Ergo, I send you this letter in gratitude for your kind gift.
Thank you very much indeed.
But not only for the popsicles (which were frigid and fun, as promised), but for the unexpected glimmer in your eye, also fun, also frigid, and a lovely shade of orange. Please, dear sir, or dear madam, let me love you as I did those popsicles.
Love and tender (yet sincere) kisses,
FOUND IN THE TRASH:
Dear Mr. Adam Tobin, Mr. Executive,
I would find your drool to be very lovely indeed, and have caught it in my hand and would save it in a bottle, and did, and washed my hair in it, and do you have money? or would you have promise? and do you have poetry? because you can come and we can lick at the popsicle stand or I might go away and with you go to be and have money and things, or many promises and love, love,
Love, written, and writered,
FOUND IN THE MAILBOX:
Dear Mr. Adam Tobin, Mr. Executive:
Yo, youre a psycho.
Today is Your Lucky Day!
Because its no longer February
And its not yet April.
There will never be another March 2nd 1998 again,
so take advantage of this offer while it lasts. Quantities are limited.
Available for 24 hours, or while supplies last.
Restrictions may apply in OK, MI, NE, and VT.
To the person who sold me March 2nd:
I recognize you. I have been searching for you always, always and forever.
You are me -- my love. You are me, a year from now, a moment -- a single flash from here, from now, from when I realize --
realize that every day should be like this, I should make transaction. Today is March second, there will never be another
there will never be another and I have realized this! I have realized this! Oh bitter-tongued path of awakening, you lick me with you silver tonsils; a lullaby of enlightenment.
There will never be another day like today.
There will never be another time like today when my own self sold my self a space to live in -- a space as beautiful and big and boisterous as the second of March of the second, because the first is gone and will not return and will never, ever, ever come again.
I love you.
I love you.
OK, first of all, that March 2nd thing was a fucking joke, OK? I mean, who would be dumb enough to buy March 2nd? And whats this shit about yourself selling yourself? I made that spoof, and I am certainly not yourself. Also, are you in some altered state, or what? I mean, whats with the repetitions? I have to admit, I was getting a little excited by the tongue thing, but just a word of advice for next time -- leave out the tonsils part, yknow?
--Not your lover
mint peppermints (peppermint style)
VERY DELICIOUS AND YUMMY AND GOOD. AND GREAT. THESE
THINGS ARE VERY VERY VERY WONDERFUL! BUY THEM!!!
EAT THEM!!! SUCK ON THEM! THESE WILL MAKE YOU
HAPPY, POPULAR, SUCCESSFUL, CONTENT, WELL LIKED, RICH,
SPIRITUALLY AND EMOTIONALLY FULFILLED. THE THINGS ARE
GOOD TOWARD YOU AND HELPFUL ALSO. HAVE HAPPINESS
AND A PLEASANT TASTE IN THE MOUTH. THESE
FOODS ARE SMALL AND NATURAL AND OF HIGHEST OF
QUALITIES. THEY LEND TOWARD THE HAVING OF A MORE
HEALTHFUL AND LIFESTYLE OF MODERNITY AND VIGOR.
YES! YES! YES! YES!
To the loveliest of Indonesian mint peppermints (peppermint style) clerk, who has filled my presence with grace and true delight:
If it would not be considered too presumptuous if I have something to expose to you, couched in the modernity and health and vigor of your lifestyle, but is there room on the divan for another? For you see, my delicate one, when I read your advertisement, I felt as if there was more to come, as if, should I pull down your perfect placard, there might be another, a revelatory other, hidden, behind. There was no second notice -- no -- instead there was you. You behind the counter has made known to me what is great, what is very very very wonderful, as in your ad. What this is, is the Indonesian mint peppermints (peppermint style) but it is also something else. It is you. You are the Indonesian mint peppermints (peppermint style) of my soul. If it was you and I strolling on the avenue, with our foods and a pleasant taste in the mouth, the×n for all others who we passed, I would feel happy, popular, successful, content, well-liked, rich, spiritually and emotionally fulfilled. This is the feeling of the highest and purest, and of the love described by philosophers.
I will return soon for another package of Indonesian mint peppermints (peppermint style) and the answer that your heart and wisdom may deign to make.
Seeing that you will now be emotionally fulfilled for all of eternity, how do you feel about fulfilling yourself far away from me? For, still I have a pleasant taste in the mouth, still I am healthy and full of vigor, still am I able to deconstruct the happiest of happies. But, your happiness is getting me down. Too alike, too disturbed, too alikedly disturbed.
4. a sense of security
Get a life. Get a job. Make it work. POPPA IN PRISON?
Make a fortune. Were talking money.
Just sign up for this one time GOT NO FRIENDS?
offer, and youll be your neighborhooods biggest dealer.
Dont worry about the cops, LIVE IN THE FAST LANE.
theyre on your side.
This is a satisfaction-guaranteed YOUR PHONE WILL RING.
way to one day
retire in style. YOUR LIFE WILL BE FULL.
YOU WILL HAVE MONEY.
We have known each other for some time now, but I never considered working for you. And now that I see the power that you have, the way you are rollin in the dough, and the way you could pamper a real woman, one with expensive tastes -- I want to be that woman. Elliot, I know you are a man of power, a man who appreciates a thrill. Ive been looking for someone just like you for as long as I can remember. I know a good thrill when I see one. Or when I feel one, you know? And I know that with you showing me the tricks of the trade, so to speak, Id be feeling that supreme thrill. You and me, baby, wed make a great team. Business and pleasure -- Ive always mixed them up.
your eager employee
P.S. Do you like handcuffs?
Look babe, while I appreciate the offer, I have to be straight with you. See, you dont want to get mixed up with me, cause I sell security, and to sell security, you have to give up some of your own, if you know what I mean. Im too busy to thrill employees, and besides, this is a one-man operation. Its not that Im not flattered, tempted by the idea of a real woman AND handcuffs, but I already have a lot of bags, a lot of things balanced "in the air," so to speak. For you and me, the stars are misaligned, you know? Come back when you can handle yourself in the fast lane w/out me.
I treasure you more than life itself. The VERBATIM that you offered, the freedom, the initiative to insanity, is the most wonderful concept. To use the word "eclectic," to dance in the rain, to feel like nobody understands, like nobody cares about you. Except for me. Me and you. And you and me. Music in my head calls to you.
Dear "Elliot" --
We dont know how you got our address. Usually we welcome new members, but in this case, were sorry to say wed prefer you to stay far away from VERBATIM, as some of us are uncomfortable with the idea of you being in our houses. You will remember the incident at our writing party. We noticed you used the phrase "Nobody understands." Perhaps you should seek professional help.
Just dont bother us again.
The members of VERBATIM
6. Snowshoe poetry
Snowshoe. You are
You, hey you -- Im talking to you,
If I was a snowshoe...ooo...ooo --
Id like to get to know you...ooo...ooo
Cuz I wouldnt be blue...ooo...ooo
If there was two...ooo...ooo...
This little ditty was done while walking cross the Yukon in these here snowshoes
too hard to
These people even did a haiku...ooo...ooo
prints in the snow
nowhere to go
With runny noses we walk round
SNOWSHOE POETRY --
who needs magnets?
Sized to fit your heart and soul
Can double as a tennis racket, lacrosse stick
Fun for the whole family
Snow Angel Productions -- official sponsors of the Blizzard of '68
Dear Snow Bunny:
How can I describe or explain...where can I begin? My life was a barren tundra, cold and icy, a featureless expanse of monotony, monotony, monotony, monotony, monotony, monotony, monotony, monotony, monotony, monotony, monotony, monotony, monotony, monotony, monotony, monotony, monotony, monotony, monotony...Until I saw your prints in the snow, OH BUNNY! Now I know that I have always been half of something, unfulfilled, a hole with no donut, a key with no lock, a divisor without a quotient, a pale and bloodless heart, exposed and twitching under the knife....OH BUNNY! Your pawprints are poetry, your droppings divine....OH BUNNY! WHEN WILL YOU BE MINE?
sellers say comm:unity
"Brings us together."
Sellers make more money with comm:unity!
26 East Depew Avenue
Buffalo, New York 14214
March 2 1998
Snow Bunny, Director
84 Benevolent Street
Providence, Rhode Island 02906
Dear Snow Bunny,
I know that your suitors are many, among them Elliot and Paw. However, please hear my entreaty. I beg you to accept this token of my eternal eggplant. There is nought that I would like more than a vegemite sandwich, with a nice healthy fudge-topped SNOW BUNNY for dessert. Mother always said, "Eat your dinner first," but Im a big boy now, and Snow Bunny, I want you now.
Love and other indoor sports,
I apologize for the form of this letter, but, as I am sure you are aware, my suitors number far too many to write personalized rejection or acceptance notifications to all of them. Be assured, however, that your request has been given full attention and judged according to its merit.
I am pleased to inform you that you have been appointed SNOW BUNNYs Number One Lover!! Congratulations. I look wetly forward to our first encounter.
I am regretfully forced to turn down your heated desire to fuck me, due to the number of applicants for this position.
8. Nylons that never ever ever rip.
DO YOU HAVE THE RUNS?
ARE YOU SICK OF TEARING FROM PLACE TO EMBARRASSING PLACE?
DO YOU HAVE PROBLEMS DRESSING YOURSELF?
DO YOU WORRY THAT YOUR LEGS MIGHT TRIP UP YOUR CAREER?
STOP! NO MORE WORRYING! EVER!
A new technological advance has driven these petty concerns out of our lives FOREVER!
This amazing new product is being test-marketed in your area.
Be the first in your office to own this fantastic image-boosting and practical
-- ORDER NOW -- 800-555-HOSE --
Scientific | Amazing | BUY! | No more tears! | Scientific | Amazing
breakthrough | new technology! | | | breakthrough | new technology!
800-555-HOSE | 800-555-HOSE | 800-555-HOSE | 800-555-HOSE | 800-555-HOSE | 800-555-HOSE
Dear S.B. --
I must find you. You know me! That was my leg you drew! My leg! All my life Ive suffered. My nylons always run. First I lost a job, now Ive lost a husband. My life is in shreds, and now youve found me.
Yes! I've always been running from place to embarrassing place and I could never sit down, never, until now -- you have saved me. And you know me already -- the beautiful leg you drew -- that was my leg. My left leg. You care for me, you must. I care for you. I must have you. You have saved me and now you must have me -- all of me. I am yours. I can never forget what you have done for me.
S.B. Are you a man? a woman? If you are a woman I desire you. If you are a man, no man has ever understood me like you do. And you drew my leg. My leg! It could only have been mine. Man or woman, S.B., you have touched my soul.
My eternal affection
Ms. Buffy L.T.,
I am writing on behalf of S.B.
Although I am sorry to hear about your marriage and your unfortunate history with nylons, I must inform you that we have had no business together in the past nor will we in the future. Do not for any reason try to contact the sender of this email. I will offer you an explanation.
There is no such thing as S.B. S.B. is a fabrication of the Scientific Breakthrough Corporation here in NYC. The left leg in our ad, with which you seem familiar, was actually compiled by a computer which sorted, averaged, and combined pictures of womens legs from all over the world. We at Scientific Breakthrough do not discriminate.
P.S. Try clear nailpolish for runs.
9. A small, unblown daffodil
A DUTCH TREAT
Its odd but today I opened this package that my great aunt sent me nine years ago. She was the one we always imitated after it was only the cousins left sitting around the poker table. The cousins and the aunts who were our age so we called them the cousins -- just to tease them. So I was embarrassed when she left it to me -- the package, I mean -- because she burned the rest before moving to Sweden.
You're probably wondering why I am telling you all this -- especially the part about the "cousins" who were really aunts and the poker table. Well first I have to tell you why she left...how she got out of months of bad family reunions. Well, she saw an ad that just made sense. I think it was an ad for a bike pump. It doesnt really matter. Well, she saw the ad, and in her mind that meant get on the next plane even if youre 98 and have never learned to ride a bike. We never heard from her again except for that package. Which I opened today. Anyway it was pretty much empty, except for a bike tire with a hole in it. I was disappointed, of course, but I remembered you hanging up your ad on the phone pole. An ad for a daffodil -- an unblown daffodil -- and suddenly it didnt matter that I never learned to ride a bike or use a bike pump either. So please accept my offer -- and thank you. I love you.
I am old now. It was many years ago when I put that poster on the phone pole. Ever since Dolores was run over by the yak caravan during our last trip to Mongolia in a search for the rare, invisible, nightblooming daffodil (no one has seen it, we would have been the first), things have not been the same for me. I no longer sell flowers. I cant stand the sight of them. I hate that cursed word D______. I hate it. You have reminded me of a painful time, please do not bother me again.
Since I moved to Tasmania, I have not heard the word once. There are no flowers here. I have found happiness. But if you write again I will have to leave. Please do not try to track me down. Let an old man live in peace.
Are you in need of a lover? Are you in need of a new, fresh, ingenious way to get yourself this lover? If so, we have a way to help!
We are selling poetry -- poetry of all kinds. We have Keats, we have Pope, we have Cummings and Byron, Shakespeare, we have new age, we have old age, we have no age, we have your age.
Forget copying down your favorite verses on a scented piece of paper, throw away your hallmark cards -- such tokens of courtship are but rusted petals compared to what we have to offer you!
For just one hundred nineteen and sometimes a half easy installments of seventeen dollars and ninetynine cents, we can offer you poetry encapsulated, poetry in capsules!
Thats right, poetry in capsules! Pick your poison; we can offer you packages from 1300-1600, 1600-1800, and 1800 to the present day A.D.
As an extra bonus, you can choose from a variety of rhythms, beats, and oxygen-enhanced metaphorical devices.
And for one week, and only for the first 13 subscribers, we are offering haiku vitamins! Thats right. If taken regularly for thirty-eight days, these ginseng-enriched haiku pills will have you seeing plum blossoms and snow on Mt. Kyoto in the middle of August. Astound your friends -- imagine the extent of their awe when you demonstrate your 38 day ability to speak unalterably in lines of five and seven syllables!
Once you have chosen your desired package, its easy. A simple glass of soy milk and the pill of your choice, and you will magically be transformed along the semantic vocal chords of your favorite poet.
Got a gal who cant get enough Neruda? Try a Pablo Neruda pill, enhanced with mango. A certain fellow just cant get enough Dickinson? Try an Emily Dickinson pill -- fortified with buttermilk.
We guarantee you wont be disappointed. Your ability to verbalize your vicarious thoughts through the minds of each swallowed poet will astonish your neighbors, your dog, your friends.
Get the girl of your dreams! Win the man of your heart! Try something new! Try something different! Try
I will keep it short and sweet -- incapsulate, dilate, incubate -- if I could put it in a pill, my love for you, I would demand you overdose -- a simple glass of soy milk would become the rain that would drink it down your throat inside you so I may be an infection spread by a simple pill -- astound -- I could but not enough. We must move past astound to astonish to agonize -- to mount Kyoto in your dreams -- whatever your Kyoto might be-- so take me, like a pill, swallow down, one capsule after shiny slippery capsule. Pablo Neruda never wrote about love as internal light -- perhaps you will be the first -- so let us agonize -- and swallow.
Listen, cookie, I dont know WHO YOU ARE or how you got my number....Kapish? Your whining is PATHETIC, as are your incessant references to pills, ODs, dreams, capsules, agony, infection, swallows, Capistrano, pastrami, salami, baloney. So get on your Zamboni and ride it around and around.
I DONT CARE!
(this is the flag)
2 AM in the world where thats daylight in summer
Are you the girl in the red dress in that room with grey walls
And seams that run through your skin and onto the floor?
If you know the healing power of ROXETTE....
Dear Sweden Advertizer (boy eating the Wasa bread),
Wow. You may not remembered when I came in to SAS, but I remember you. I have always been intrigued by your country and all of its cultural (and other) exports, so I naturally thought that it was this which drew me to your ad. But then I read closer. And I realized that the ad was made specifically for me. You see, I only wear red, and I have a strange birth defect on my legs which is in the form of black lines running down the backs of my legs. On occasion (like when I stand on a mirror) they can even appear to run onto the floor. So of course you see how astounded I was at your ad.
And then I met you. And I knew it was personal. It all makes sense. Why else would I have been so attracted to Sweden all these years if not for a past life leading me in your direction? Why else (certainly not for their taste) have I had this insatiable craving for ludfisk and aqavit?
Let us go then, you and I, while the night is plastered with light, and you shall teach me the joys of Munch while we scream Roxette songs and get lost in the harbors of our hearts.
Hey idiot --
Munch isnt Swedish -- hes Norwegian -- but no -- it was a test -- and you flunked it bigtime -- anybody really serious about loving me would have known that -- so you can go off in your ludfisk -- just stay the hell away from me.