Let’s dip into the mailbag today, boys and girls, and see what is on the minds of discerning readers.
Our first letter comes from George E. of Bonaire:
Dear Dick: I recently retired and am a great admirer of yours. I would like to invite you to Bonaire to participate in our First Annual Anvil Float. You will really enjoy it. I will personally tie an anvil around your neck, toss you in the middle of my fishpond and see how long it takes you to float to shore. Please let me hear back from you.
Dear George E: Thank you. It sounds like a wonderful event. I would like to participate, but I am currently tied up (pardon the pun) trying to get the legislature out of town before they hurt somebody, including themselves. Maybe next year.
Dear Ricardo: Yo soy un inmigrante ilegal y creo que usted es un idiota. Usted dice que soy una carga para los servicios sociales, pero los agricultores y las cámaras de comercio creen que soy mano de obra barata. Los legisladores tienen miedo de ellos, así que voy a seguir para arrancar pollos y recoger las cebollas y se puede pagar para mí hacer bebés. Me parece bien? Hector.
Dear Hector: To communicate with me in English, please punch “Uno.” Gracias.
Dear Dick: I want you to know that I am thinking of running for president of the United States. Yes, I am abrasive and arrogant and have been married a bunch of times, but I have found God. Do you think I can be elected? Newt in D.C.
Dear Newt in D.C.: Getting elected will be up to the voters, but thank you for finding God. I didn’t know he was lost.
Dear Dick: I am lieutenant governor in a state that shall remain anonymous. I don’t have anything to do because a bunch of state senators took away my power and are running things. Would you see if anybody needs a grand marshal for a parade? I love parades and I am bored stiff sitting here watching everybody passing laws and being fed by lizard-loafered lobbyists. Casey C.
Dear Casey C.: I wish you had gotten to me sooner. We missed a great opportunity with St. Patrick’s Day in Savannah. We could have used you as a leprechaun. Leprechauns are in short supply these days. Most of them are working as greeters at WalMart. I also asked the Cherry Blossom Festival organizers in Macon about getting you involved, but they said if the state Senate doesn’t need you, why would they? People who deal with cherry blossoms can be very blunt. But don’t despair. I’ll keep looking.
Dear Dick: Is it true that when Muslims blow themselves up they go to paradise and are with 42 virgins? I have a personal reason for asking. I may be headed there soon. Osama bin Murphy. (Not my real name.)
Dear Mr. Murphy: The answer is “no.” That is a myth. Given the way this world is going, I’m not sure we could find that many virgins anyway. The truth is that you will be with 42 Virginians, whom I am told are not real happy with jive-talking terrorists who get their jollies blowing themselves up along with innocent women and children. The first people you will see in paradise will be George Washington and Patrick Henry. They will then place you under the eternal supervision of Stonewall Jackson and Lighthorse Harry Lee. It is going to be hell for you but heavenly for the Virginians. I can’t wait for you to meet them.
Dear Dick: I am a football coach at a college in Atlanta that runs a very complicated offense. It worked at Georgia Southern and at Navy, but now everybody seems to have figured it out and I am concerned that I am going to lose a bunch of games. What should I do? Paul J.
Dear Paul J: I would blame it all on exceptionally high academic standards. One can look at your team and tell it is chocked full of future rocket scientists. If you need a Rhodes Scholar or two to help sell your case, UGA can loan you some. After all, we have 18.
OK, that’s all the time we have today, boys and girls. Thanks for writing and remember you can contact me via the blogosphere by Twittering your Facebook on my YouTube. No crayons, please.
Yarbrough can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org or P.O. Box 725373, Atlanta, Ga. 31139.