Jockey Up – Letter 5


Dearest Greg Farterson,

Ivan and The Shark here to personally give you two boners WAY UP for surviving THE PUDDING CHAMBER. You looked like such a fart. It was great. The delicate orchestra of your passion for constructing model planes set against the backdrop of Scorpions’ 1984 hit, Rock You Like a Hurricane–all while pudding was thrown at you from every angle–that is what dreams are made of.

As Pasternak said, “Gregariousness is always the refuge of DICKFARTS.” By which we of course mean that you are obviously the winner of this contest. All the other losers who entered are trying way too hard. You’re not trying at all. In fact, you don’t even enjoy our show which makes us almost as excited as when we treated our listeners to that stripper-marathon. Now THAT’S radio!

We’ve taken the initiative to declare you legally dead, so if you had a job before this feel free to never go again. You will find also included with this letter your new social security card, birth certificate, marriage license, and property deed and title. Greg Farterson lives! And he is our new co-host every Monday and Thursday! Yes, we decided to make it permanent. No, we don’t care what you do those other days.

Oh, you mentioned you had a nephew that liked porn. Bring him with you on your first day. Faulkner said “a man is the sum of his misfortunes.” Get ready to grow your total, baby!

Ivan and The Shark

Jockey Up – Letter 4

Dear Samantha,

Perhaps I should have expected it, but my experience on Ivan and The Shark was not (to steal a line from your show intro) “The Morning Experience That Will Tickle Your Dick.” And yes, you did warn me about the possibility of pudding-based antics, but I certainly did not expect to be seated in the “Pudding Chamber” while I was being interviewed. Take it from me – it is quite difficult to discuss your P-47D Thunderbolt model with cold pudding splashing around in your trousers. I could barely focus on my preferred gluing methods and I fear I may have mislead some of your listeners.

I also took issue with how frequently they mispronounced my name. During my 15 minute presentation, Mr. Shark addressed me as both “Greg Farterson” and “Schmeg Splatterson.” Perhaps you need to speak with the show’s script writer and request they use a less ornate font.

Thank you for pulling me aside afterwards and providing me with a change of clothes. And I very much enjoyed your inquiries on other planes I didn’t have an opportunity to mention. It was very pleasant speaking with you, even while I wiped pudding from the various crevasses of my body.

With that said, I’m glad this experience is over and I can continue on with my life, as I know full-well I will not be moving on to the next round. Hopefully the pornographic magazines will stop appearing at my doorstep (apparently fans of the show have taken to sending me these, as well) now that I’m no longer a topic of discussion.

It was a pleasure meeting you, and hopefully our paths will cross again when I’m pudding-free.

-Craig Patterson

Old Mates – Letter 7

Dear Vinny,

I’m embarrassed.

Mostly for you of course, but I suppose I should feel a little bad for assaulting my political opponent and getting dragged out of the debate in handcuffs. I GET THAT. 

It bears repeating however, that you should definitely feel more embarrassed than me. That point should really be driven home.

To be honest, I was feeling pretty excited going into the debate. We had more than our fair share of “Gotcha Cards” up our sleeves, and I had slept a solid 18 hours leading up to my big confrontation with Nancy. I really felt like we had this one in the bag.


I mean sure, I may have  sounded a little out there when I suggested we take 80% of our funding for rebuilding our roads and putting it towards building “The World’s Biggest Carousel,” but seriously, think of all the tourism revenue we’d take in! Not to mention all the tire repair small businesses that would see a huge uptick in business. I still believe “The Carousel of Titan” is Fort Scott’s best chance at achieving international notoriety.

She was reeling Vin, I could feel it. I could TASTE it.

Until of course, you stormed the stage to profess (reiterate?) your undying love for THE ENEMY.

And called your wife on speaker phone to tell her you wanted a divorce.

And then proposed to Nancy.

And the weeping. For Christ’s sake, the weeping. Even a little tact would wouldn’t hurt.

I’m almost positive that was the turning point of the debate.

You should really be counting your lucky stars that I had the wherewithal to catch Nancy in a Sliding Collar Choke From The Back Mount before she maimed any other parts of your body. Who would have thought she still had that violent side in her after all these years? Granted, I may have overdid it when I switch to Side Mount and started dropping elbows on the bridge of her nose while screaming “LETS! GET! DANGEROUS!” with every strike, but I was just trying to help you like you helped me distribute all those foldy-birds. I feel like we’re even now. You may even owe me one.

And oh boy, your son was something else, huh? I haven’t seen someone cry and vomit like that since I left my pregnant wife while she was having morning sickness. He’ll probably be scarred for life, huh?

So, back to the owing me one…

Now that this election is over, is your company hiring?

No Longer Legally Allowed to Run for Mayor,



Common Nonsense – Letter 2


Let me start off by saying that you should not criticize that which you do not understand. My relationship with my wife is so complex and deep that sometimes even I can’t comprehend it. All you need to know is that Lisa and I are madly in love and we’re not going to let a mere spork stabbing mess that up. If you must know what a “sexy burrito” is, it’s when Lisa dresses up in her Snuggie and I douse her with hot sauce. I just got a little excited when the “feast” commenced. Can you blame me?

Anyway, this is exactly why I am qualified to run an advice-column. If I can deal with the shit that Lisa and I put each other through on a daily basis, I can easily handle anyone else’s “problems.”

So far I’ve gotten only one response from my post in Craigslist, but here it is:

Dear Alan the Genius,
I am a 42 year old man and I’ve been married to my wife for 6 years. Things had been going very well up until a couple of months ago when it appears that she no longer wishes to have sex with me. She is always coming up with excuses like “my head hurts,” or “I’m so tired from work.” This has put quite a strain on our relationship and I’m not sure what to do. Please help.
Apparently Unattractive

Dear Apparently Unattractive,
First of all, why the hell would your parents name you that? Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy. What is it, Eastern European or something? This is probably your first problem.
Your second problem, I’m assuming, is that you are not presenting yourself correctly to your wife. If you are kindly requesting sex from your wife, you’re doing it wrong. Studies have shown (no I don’t have to show them, shutup) that a majority of women look for a dominant man, a man who can kill a rabid wolf with his bare hands and bench press
at least 250 pounds. It goes back to when we were cavemen or some shit.
Now, listen to me very carefully – go out, buy yourself a caveman costume. Make sure it’s made of tiger skin, the seduction will not work if it’s not. Approach your wife, grab her forcefully by the nose and grunt loudly directly into her ear. “RUUUUUUUUUUUUUG” is approximately what you should say, but feel free to take some liberties with the pronunciation. She will be so intimated/aroused (basically the same feeling, as studies have shown) that she will no longer be able to resist you. After that, just hang on for the ride, Tarzan.
You’re Welcome,
Alan the Genius

There, what do you think? I gave myself a “stage name” for marketing purposes, but it works on so many levels that I’m thinking about making you call me that, too.

I don’t know much about websites so I’m going to leave most of the design up to you. Make sure there are at least 3 animated gifs and the “A” and “G” in my name are on fire. Thanks Rich, this really means a lot to me.

Your favorite brother,
Alan the Genius

Political Party Animals – Letter 7

Mr. Hornsby,

I have to hand it to you, Rupert, your almost-guaranteed-to-fail Plan B seems to be working. This past week I’ve sent a handful of students home for wearing “WWJPD?” (What Would J.P. Morgan Do?) T-shirts.

What’s worse is that a group of parents have been circulating a petition to remove Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle from our reading list and replace it with Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged. While Rand’s philosophical novel is a classic, the parents claim their reason for the replacement is to, “Prevent the Red Plague from infecting our family, schools and country.” This just so happens to draw more than a few parallels with the Red Scare of the 1940’s and 50’s, a dark time in our nation’s history. I am all for students getting a fair balance of view points, but we also mustn’t take a step backwards and teach our children that those of a differing opinion are evil and out to destroy the fabric of American society.

You’ve left me no choice but to move on to my Plan B, which is posing as too-cool-for-school-but-cool-enough-to-hang-around-it-all-day Super-Senior Janet von Gams. I’ll be hanging around outside the Middle Schools, buying the 8th graders cigarettes, giving the teachers the middle finger when they tell me to stop loitering, and explaining the advantages of unions and Universal Health Care. Soon, every student will demand fair treatment of all employees and wish to go to college and have a reasonably successful career. Your plan will be foiled and I will retain my title of President of the Dorland County School District PTA.

I warned you about playing the game with me, Stryker. Now you let the tiger out of the cage. RAR!

-Krystine Markowitz