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 #35 | Subject: Babies and Baby Names

Letter to President Obama #35 | Subject: Babies and Baby Names

Dear President Obama,

I’m writing because I’ve got a more personal question to ask you—I’ve reached a strange point in my life—I guess I must subconsciously want a kid, because I’ve been thinking a lot about children, and specifically, what names I’d give them, if I were to have any. Now just in case my mom’s reading this, there isn’t a baby on the way or anything, so I’ve got some leeway here, but I’ve definitely been entertaining the idea.

But it’s not like the familial pressure isn’t there. My folks want a grandkid too. For instance, you know that the family abstinence-only policy has been thrown out the window when your parents see your cousin’s new son, look at you, and sigh before saying, “What about our grandbabies?” and then hang their heads dejectedly.

Anyway, Mr. President, I’m asking you because your family seems to be an unqualified success—and because your children have great names. For me, that’s a pretty big compliment; I’m a bit paranoid about names.

I mean, there are so many ways to screw up a name. Of course, there is the general problem of initials. Consider the following ostensibly appropriate names:

Anne Susan Stewart

Frank Upton Kilborn

Sarah Heather Thomas

Paul Oliver Ortler

When these names are made into acronyms, they are all dismal failures. I’ll leave the mental legwork to you, but they all stand for various naughty words. My name is an excellent example of this—my initials (BEO) can be short for “Body Odor,” but as I learned in middle school, they are also short for such treasures as:

Butts Eating Oysters

Busty Earthling Orgy

and of course, Burping Early Orlater

Needless to say, being called such things was pretty stressful. I certainly don’t need to tell you that children love swear words. They are experts in all things related to toilet humor and they’d endlessly tease any child with such initials. (In fact, I’ve always believed that children would be excellent plumbers if they could be appropriately trained. This probably explains the success of the Mario Brothers video game franchise; don’t forget that the Mario Brothers were plumbers. This explains all the pipes.)

Of course, there are other general naming rules. If possible, avoid middle names that are old-fashioned. I was named for my grandfather, whose middle name was Eugene. It’s a great name, and one that I like a great deal now, but as a child, I got a bit of grief for it. I mean, when a kid makes fun of your middle name you and scream back but it’s an important city in Oregon! that’s not much of a defense.

This next point might seem obvious, but it’s always important to avoid names that are already famous. The name “Jesus” is a good example. Like it or not, that name is already taken. And when viewed realistically, there’s no way your child will live up to such a name, unless he’s really good at making fishes and loaves. Really good. The same goes for any of the seven virtues—if you name your kid Faith, she’ll probably become an atheist. If you name her Chastity, she’ll be pregnant at 16. (I actually saw this at a Wal-Mart in rural Minnesota. No joke.)

By extension, if you name your kid Adolf, there’s no way they can screw that up any more than it already is. The same goes for Judas. Then again, those names come with their own problems, so I’m certainly not advocating for those.

Finally, there is the problem of shoddy etymology. My first name’s a great example. It’s “Brett,” a pretty rare name. When people ask what it means, I tell them it’s complicated. By that, I mean, that my parents thought it meant “strong”; that’s how they found in a baby book. They chose this name because I was born prematurely (three months!) and I was lucky to be alive. I had a rough go of it at first; I was in an incubator for three months (chicken eggs stay in incubators for 24 days, take that chickens) and I was only 2.5 pounds. My parents wanted me to get all the help I could get, and I can’t blame them.

As I learned in elementary school, many children knew what their names meant early on. The biblically-named kids had it pretty easy, I thought; I knew like 12 Jakes by the first grade. I only went to school with one other Brett; in fact, he’s the only one I’ve known personally. Sadly for me, he was about 6’4 by the fifth grade. I wasn’t. Thereafter, I was known as little Brett.

Only later did I find out what my name really meant. I learned German in high school. I was watching some boring German-language show in class and I heard a reference to a “Sprungbrett.” The show was about gymnastics. Then the lady in the show pointed to a spring board. So I went home and got online. I searched for my name; of course, I found a lot of references to people with my name, and then I found a lot of websites in German. At first, I thought Germans really liked me! Then I realized that my name was really just a German word—so I looked it up. My parents’ initial hunch wasn’t too far off, if viewed rather abstractly—Germans would probably recognize “Brett” as something “strong”; unfortunately for me, that’s because “Brett” means “a board” or “a plank” in German. So a springboard is a Sprungbrett, etc.

For all intents and purposes, my name literally means “a piece of wood.” This led to some odd encounters in Germany. I’d show up at a friend’s house and he’d greet me with, “Hello, my American piece of wood!”

Of course, things don’t seem to be getting any easier now. It seems the Internet is no help here. What I mean is, it’d be a little embarrassing to explain to one’s child where their odd name came from if you got it from the Internet; imagine that conversation:

Child: Where did my name come from?

Parents (in unison): Um, babynamesworld.parentsconnect.com

Anyway, I’ve made a little progress in my own search; I’m leaning toward the names Oliver William Ortler and Sophia Ann Ortler (Sophie for short).What do you think, Mr. President?

Thanks, and take care,

Brett Ortler

This is letter #35 to President Obama. No response yet, but I will let everyone know. If you like them, please let your friends know and tell them to tell their friends. Also, feel free to leave comments and join my Letters To the President Facebook group here.

Letter to President Obama #34 | Subject: Food-scented shampoos, cleaning products, and shopping

Letter to President Obama #34 | Subject: Household Products and Consumer Protection

Dear President Obama,

I’m writing because I’ve heard a lot of talk about consumer protection in the news recently, and I’ve got a few questions about consumer items myself. First of all, I’ve got a general question about shampoo. I’ve noticed that a lot of shampoos for women smell like food—you name it, strawberries, apples, coconut. This doesn’t make a lot of sense; shampoo isn’t even edible (believe me, I’ve tried). It smells good, but tastes terrible, like a snack Willy Wonka was making just before he totally lost it.

Food-scented shampoos lead to strange encounters at the store too—for instance, I’ll be at a store somewhere and a woman will walk by and I’ll catch a whiff of her hair. Then I get hungry! Subconsciously, I’ll follow her for a few seconds before realizing that the object of my hunger is a human being. That’s a pretty disconcerting situation, Mr. President; there is a lot of self-guilt and shame involved when you realize that, for a moment, you were some sort of hair zombie or in the movie Alive.

Food-scented shampoos can also lead to misunderstandings at home. My girlfriend uses this crazy strawberry shortcake like shampoo; she washed her hair one night and walked into the living room and I smelled what I thought was dessert; the conversation went like this:

Me (excited): Did you make a surprise dessert for me?

Girlfriend: Um, no.

Me (still excited, thinking she was tricking me but really had made food after all): Oh. Well, why does it smell like strawberry shortcake in here? (coyly smiling)

Girlfriend: I washed my hair.

Me (confused, less excited, no longer smiling): Wait, what?

Girlfriend: The shampoo was strawberry-shortcake scented.

Me (sad, angry at the Unilever corporation): Oh, darn.

Needless to say, hair shouldn’t make me feel hungry, Mr. President; I’m already hungry enough as it is. I mean I have enough to contend with at most Targets and Wal-Marts; there’s that terribly addictive rotisserie chicken that they put right by the checkout (I bet that’s another wonderful product from Philip Morris), the veritable phalanx of Little Debbie Snacks (why is Little Debbie not fat?), and the array of candy bars within arm’s-length of every checkout.

In addition, I also have a general question about cleaning products. Whose idea was it to use sponges as cleaning implements? The idea of using an animal (and one from the ocean!) as a household product is strange—I’d never consider using a flounder as a doormat or a pickerel as a pitchfork. Part of me wonders what sponges would say about this; I guess we will never know, as we have no way to communicate with them. Then again, maybe they are more intelligent than we think. Perhaps they can read; they do spend a lot of time near elementary school room chalkboards.

Anyway, if we are going to continue the using sea-creatures-as-household-objects trend, I’ve always thought that squids and octopi would make good (and fun!) mops, and I’ve always thought we should give starfish a chance at astronomy.

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

Take care,

Brett Ortler



This is letter #34 to President Obama. No response yet, but I will let everyone know. If you like them, please let your friends know and tell them to tell their friends. Also, feel free to leave comments and join my Letters To the President Facebook group here.

Letter To President Obama #33 | Subject: Hospitals

Letter To President Obama #33 | Subject: Hospitals

Dear President Obama,

In a recent letter I mentioned that I was at the hospital, as I had this reoccurring pain in my side. Well, the doctor diagnosed it as a muscle strain, but it took a while to figure that out. In the interim, I sat in the examination room wondering what could be wrong with me. I’m a bit of a hypochondriac to begin with and all the exam rooms at the hospital had these “Rate Your Pain From 1-10” scales plastered all over the place. I don’t know about you, but I find them pretty disconcerting; they’ve got these little stick figure guys depicting varying levels of pain and discomfort. The first guy looks OK, but then he’s gets progressively more unhappy, until it’s quite clear that he’s in unbearable pain.

I’ve always felt these drawings are incomplete. I’d like to know what exactly is happening in the foreground of those pictures. There are a number of possibilities; for instance, maybe we could make each picture its own frame and make it a comic strip. For instance, in one, we could place stick-figure man into a brick-lined room, and show him entering the room with a pair of men wearing fedoras. He is offered a chair and sits. He is asked a question but doesn’t answer. Then he is tied to the chair and he looks uncomfortable. Pretty soon, in picture #4 or #5 we see that one of the fedora guys has taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves and he’s rifling through a toolbox for some reason. At that point, smiley-face man is really hurting.

We could also make each have a corollary message. For instance, the one listed above could be pretty general, like “Don’t Steal From The Mob” or it could be more specific, for hospitals in New York City say, and read, “Watch out for the Gambinos!”

Anyway, while I was waiting, I started wondering what had happened to stick-figure man, and I immediately thought of science fiction movies and specifically, the movie Alien. It seemed to be an apt reference; the guy looks fine and is at breakfast and suddenly he’s get worse and worse, until he’s a goner and an alien is loose aboard the ship.

Because I’m a hypochondriac, I started wondering if that might be what was wrong with me. (My girlfriend texted me and said it was probably a wandering uterus, which I didn’t think was very nice.)

Only later did I learn that the Alien sort of thing happens in real life. I was reading a science article about this crazy species of insects that lays its eggs inside caterpillars, and when the larvae emerge they cause the caterpillar to writhe all over the place before dying, just like in Alien. I never thought I’d say this, but boy am I glad I’m not a butterfly.

In any case, please let me know what you think about my revisions to the pain level chart; if you agree, please forward them on to Health and Human Services.

Take Care,


Brett Ortler

P.S. This is letter #33 to President Obama. I'm writing one a day (or thereabouts) and sending them. I haven't received a response yet, but I will let everyone know if I hear back from him. In the interim, please tell your friends and send these letters along.

Letter to President Obama #32 | Subject: Dreams

Letter to President Obama #32 | Subject: Dreams

Dear President Obama,

I’m writing because my girlfriend had this dream I wanted to tell you about. She dreamt that you lost the keys to the White House and you addressed the nation on primetime TV and asked for our help in looking for them. Of course, all the reporters and newscasters giggled and as you were probably expecting this, you told them that there was presidential precedent for this sort of thing. You said that President Bush had done this all the time during his eight years and that’s why the terror alert system kept changing colors.

After she told me this, it got me thinking, and now I’ve got a few questions. First, does the White House even have keys? My girlfriend and I have a bet going on this one. I bet her a dollar that it’s so high tech that it doesn’t even need keys—you probably have thumbprint identification pads and retina scanners and all that. If I were you, I’d be careful about the retina scanners; I’ve always been leery of them since I saw Demolition Man and Wesley Snipes poked out that one guy’s eye just to use it for the scanner. If the security folks insist on the retina scanners I’d recommend that they teach you a Jujitsu version of that Three Stooges move where you protect your eyes from the crazy eye poke. They probably even have special hats (you know, with eye shields!) for that; I’d get one.

If you do have keys, I bet you guys have all sorts of other security too. That makes sense. If I were you, I’d get something like those Life Alert notification things; you know, those things featured in the “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” commercials. Except yours could play a version of “Secret Agent Man.” (As a kid, I always thought the title of that song was “Secret Asian Man.” Really!)

Then again, Life Alert isn’t a panacea either. One of my friend’s grandmas had one of those Life Alert notification things, but he lived with her and was kind of a misfit, so he always put it on his dog. This was a big dog, some Rottweiler mix and it was always rolling around and roughhousing. I hardly got to hang out with him because the cops were there every time I’d try to visit, which was a lot, like five times a week. It was kind of like the boy who called wolf, except in this case it was the boy who called fire department. A few months later, their house burned down and the dog died, so I didn’t get to go over there anymore.

Finally, I have a general question about dreams. I’ve been tuning in to most of your speeches, and I’ve enjoyed them. I’m a particular fan of your cadence, which is wonderful, and at times, it reminds me of other great speakers, particularly John F. Kennedy, Robert F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr.

I was listening to one of your speeches the other day and a line reminded me of MLK’s famous, “I Have a Dream” speech; I went to sleep thinking about it, and that night I also had a dream. I dreamt of little black boys and little black girls joining with little white boys and little white girls as sisters and brothers, but in the end, they all turned out to be zombies and they tried to eat me. That was weird.

I’ve looked through all the Freud I have on my bookshelves and I can’t find anything about zombies and what they mean if they appear in your dreams. If you can help with this latter question, I’d appreciate it. I’m a bit flummoxed.

In any case, I wish you the best, and thanks for the good work.


Brett Ortler

Guest Letter To the President by Matthew Hicks | Subject: Beards

Dear President Obama,

I saw your speech in Cairo reaching out to the Islamic world, and let me tell you it made me proud to be an American. Since the speech I've been brainstorming to try and help with your outreach, and I think I've hit on a great idea. No, not burkhas on our statues: John Ashcroft already tried that. America needs to cover something else that Muslims like to cover. It's time to bring back the public figure with facial hair.

Our country has a grand tradition of prominently bewhiskered people. Two of the presidents on Mount Rushmore were carved with their facial hair. Teddy Roosevelt had a mustache that he used to help him aim at Spaniards and lions, and Abraham Lincoln had a beard that comforted him when Mary Todd was off hunting ghosts. Lincoln actually started a long trend of bearded and mustachioed presidents, and look at what presidential leadership accomplished: General Ambrose Burnside went with the "bat attacking the face" look, Andrew Carnegie built the world's largest steel company along with one of the world's most impressive beards, and John Rockefeller saved time to think up anticompetitive practices by not shaving under his nose. Today what do we have among the rich and prominent? Not much beyond Larry Ellison's baby's first beard and Governor Charlie Crist’s wife. Half the senate is hiding a bald spot yet none of them let their hair grow where it still can. Americans used to the world leader in innovative facial hair (Burnside gave us the word “sideburns”), and I believe with a little presidential leadership we can be again.

Now I remember reading once that you said you don't really grow decent facial hair. That's okay. Groucho Marx was known for his moustache, but in truth it was nothing more than greasepaint. Alright, that might be a little tacky for the president, but you encourage other people inside your administration to grow something. How about Joe Biden with mutton chops, Rahm Emanuel with an evil-Spock goatee, or Hillary Clinton with a soul patch? It doesn't need to be all of you, the idea is just to take back the public space for follicled faces. Once John Boehner is sporting a ZZ Top beard, then everyone who wants to can shave. But I bet by then they'll be loving it.

One more thing before I'll let you get back to running the free world. I know you love trying to act like Lincoln, giving speeches where he did and following the same route to the inauguration. Well Lincoln didn't have a beard when he was elected. He actually grew it in response to a letter he received. Did I just blow your mind?

Your fellow American,
Matthew Hicks

Letter to President Obama #30 | Subject: Patriotism and Religious Symbols

Letter to President Obama #30 | Subject: Patriotism and Religious Symbols

Dear President Obama,

As you know, I’ve been writing you letters fairly often, once a day for about a month now. But in the last few days I haven’t written much at all; I have a pretty good excuse—I was in the emergency room for most of Wednesday afternoon. As it turns out, I’m fine, but it took a while for the doctors to find that out. In the interim, I hung around at the hospital for a while, and I read every good magazine that they had—two copies of Smithsonian and one of National Geographic. After that, the only magazines left were things like Good Housekeeping and Ladies’ Home Journal, so I reluctantly started reading those. I don’t remember which magazine I was looking at, but I was taken aback by the cover of one of the magazines, which had the phrase “God Bless America” prominently displayed on the cover.

Now don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against America, or God, or God blessing America. On the contrary, I think it’s quite clear that God has done so, and quite abundantly. The phrase just seems to be a little obvious—it kind of goes without saying. And it seems like an unnecessary addition; I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever wished for the converse—for God, or any other deity for that matter, to damn a particular nation. Now that I think of that, it’s a little disappointing that I haven’t. It would be kind of fun to yell out “God damn you, Swaziland!” in the break room or have “Shiva, please destroy Iceland!” emblazoned on a button or a bumper sticker.

Then again, I don’t have any real beef with the phrase, it’s their magazine; they can put whatever they want on the cover. I’m writing this because those covers made me think of the fish symbols that some Christian folks put on their cars. I’ve always been disappointed that car dealerships only offered a few different choices—the fish symbol, the Darwin one, and the fish eating the Darwin symbol. That seems like a pretty limited selection to me, and certainly not one representative enough to cover everyone’s religious and metaphysical beliefs. So I went to my local car dealership and asked if they had any other symbolic options.

I started out with the big three monotheistic religions, thinking it was my best bet. I asked if they had Christian symbols, and of course they had the fish and the anti-Darwin fish (which has no teeth, oddly). I then asked if the symbols got more specific. The salesman was confused. I told him that I was Catholic and wanted an outline of the Pope’s hat or maybe the Popemobile for my car. He said they didn’t have that. I was surprised, and so I thought they had only one symbol per general monotheistic religion. So I asked if they had the crescent moon symbol. He didn’t know what I was talking about, so I told him it was Islamic. He looked like he was going to call the police. After that, I didn’t bother asking whether he had an agnostic question mark or a symbol for Rastafarianism; I simply asked if he had other biblical symbol options, like the burning bush, Jacob’s ladder, or David’s sling, or maybe even a sheep, but they said no, they just had the fish. I asked if they had chips, but they didn’t get it.

Needless to say, I think this is an area where American automakers could certainly take the initiative and beat the competition. Specifically, I’d like to have a Noah’s Ark symbol; I’d put that on my car. Maybe just the outline of the ark with a pair of giraffes’ heads peeking out of the top? (Though in that story I’ve always thought that Noah would have made the giraffes little umbrella hats—I mean, if he didn’t that’s not very nice. 40 days of rain would get pretty old if your head was sticking through the roof.)

I just thought of this—if the 10 plagues of Egypt could be encapsulated in car-symbol form, that’d be pretty sweet too.

Finally, it’d be nice if the automakers made those symbols a bit easier to remove. One of my pals, an ardent atheist, bought a used car and a nice one at that, but it had one of the fish symbols on it. Like I said, he was an ardent atheist, but he was even more particular about keeping his car in immaculate shape. This led to some odd meetings—people would see the symbol and think he was quite religious and then invited them to church or tried to discuss Scripture, and he’d have to try to explain the situation. In this respect, it was sort of like a pass code, but he didn’t really belong to the club.

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

Brett

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 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 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 #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 #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

Letter to President Obama #2 | Subject: Please Be Less Beautiful/Talented

Dear President Obama,

As you may remember, I wrote you a letter congratulating you on your election victory a week or so after your inauguration. As you didn’t respond, I came to the conclusion that you must have misplaced my original letter (and the one I sent you earlier this month).

My assumption is that it got mixed in with former-President Bush’s things when he was moving out of the White House. If so, I hope he doesn’t respond. That’d be a little awkward. (Then again, maybe he could get the Texas Rangers slugger Josh Hamilton to sign a baseball for me.)

In any case, I’ve decided to write you again. While my original letter was entirely laudatory, it’s been a few months and I’ve now got a gripe to let you know about. As you probably recall in my original epistle, I complimented you on “your historic victory and your beautiful family.”

As it turns out, your family’s a little too beautiful. What I mean is, after seeing your beautiful family on television, in magazines, and on the front pages of the papers, it has some of us feeling a little frumpy. For instance, my girlfriend and I were in the grocery checkout aisle. Your wife, Michelle, was featured on a magazine cover, and my girlfriend commented on how well-toned and sculpted Michelle’s arms were. We both then looked down at the conveyor belt and the entirety of our grocery purchases for the day: Reese’s peanut butter cup ice cream, chocolate syrup, and hot fudge. Then, my girlfriend and I looked at each other, and at our (rather jiggly) arms. We frowned, picked up our items and got out of line. Long story short, we ended up eating sorbet instead. It tasted fine, but I don’t like eating things I can’t pronounce and I blame you, Mr. President, for this variety of grocery self-censorship.

It’s not just that your family’s photogenic. Your family is so accomplished. I mean, when former President Bush made his infamous “our children is learning” slip, I felt like a genius, like a regular Ken Jennings; I’d never have made that mistake. (For
once, I feel myself waxing nostalgic about the Bush administration.)

And you speak so well. Now, you should know something: I sometimes have trouble speaking. I speak quickly, and I often joke that I come from a long line of auctioneers. When I turn on the TV and hear you speak with that sure cadence of yours, I feel instantly dispirited. I mean, how do I compete with that? It just doesn’t seem fair.

Now please don’t think of me as just a critic. I mean, I’ve got constructive suggestions to offer. First, to make the rest of us feel better—please, stammer once in a while. (Sometimes, when I catch myself stammering, I’ll just keep doing it for ten or twenty seconds, and I’ll make up my own alien-like stammer-language. It’s fun; you should try it!) This will make the rest of us feel better about ourselves.

Secondly, it’d be great if you and/or your family could be photographed in a less-than-flattering outfit. Some options—buy an ugly sweater! Even better, get one of those Christmas sweaters and wear it to some non-essential function. No one looks good in one of those. (You could also multi-task; maybe wear it if you’re giving a speech at some AARP function? You’ll fit right in!) Or, write an executive order that requires you and the Cabinet to wear Hawaiian shirts for a day. The Hawaiian shirt is just like the Christmas sweater, no one looks good in one. (Additional hint: Don’t tell the Press Corp in advance; it’ll baffle them!)

Finally, think about making a really goofy face next time you’re in front of the cameras. You know, like Einstein did in that one photo? Sure, Einstein was better at physics than anybody else, but that photo made him so much more down to Earth, and everyone felt better about themselves when they saw that picture! (There’s also a presidential precedent here; President Bush did this for eight years!)

In conclusion, I’m confident these steps would help our national self-esteem. Please take them into consideration.

Sincerely,

Brett Ortler

This is letter #2 to Mr. Obama. I'll be sending a letter a day. Check out www.knockoutlit.org/brett.html for more.