I hope this letter finds you well. It has been months since we last spoke and frankly, I’ve been worried. Our breaks between sessions aren’t usually this long. I understand that my secretary has attempted to contact you several times to make an appointment, but to no avail. She tells me that sometimes you answer the phone but pretend to be someone else. She tells me that she might actually buy it if it weren’t for the fact that you pretend to be the guy from “Sling Blade.” She wanted me to tell you she has seen the movie and you do an excellent imitation. But she also wanted you to know that breaking character, shouting “I’m Rick James bitch!” and hanging up abruptly was just rude.

Look, I know what you think of my methods. I know you think that tickling therapy is a crock. You’ve mentioned that it hurts your feelings when I listen to music during our sessions and I want you to know I’ve realized that wearing headphones was perhaps insensitive. But as I said, I’m concerned. I have been following the progress of Brick and honestly, I do not like what I see. Your pain comes out on every page. Your stress seeps into every caption and headline. The last few months clearly read like a cry for help. I just want you to know that I am still here. And as far as I can tell, your insurance will still pay for the sessions.

- Dr. Youknowwho

It makes me feel weird when you write me at work. I know we agreed that it would be okay, but still, it feels like everyone is looking in on my private business. You know, I’m really not doing as bad as it may seem. I just hit a rough patch. People have rough patches sometimes. I had one and now it’s over. I’d like to move on if you don’t mind.

Again, I have to say it feels really strange dragging my therapy out into the open like this and it probably… no, it definitely affects my ability to be honest. I just don’t need total strangers knowing that I pay a $65 co-pay so that a big bearded guy in a sweater can tickle me until I laugh so hard that I cry and cry and cry. I don’t need them knowing that I had more than one bad experience with pudding in my past. Because the world is full of messed up people and the next thing you know, people will be sending me pudding in the mail just to tease me. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that there are some plain evil people who love to hear that a person is terrified of pudding. People whose wiring is so messed up that the first thing they think when you say, “I’m deathly afraid of pudding” is “Where can I get me some pudding?” They are predators. They see my weakness and they want to exploit it. You watch… they’ll do it. And it’s going to be ugly and just like something off of the nature channel where a water buffalo gets pounced by a pack of lions. Except instead of being covered in blood and lion drool, I’ll be covered in pudding. Which, if you hate pudding, is almost as bad as getting eaten by lions. Trust me on that one. So if it’s all the same to you, Doc, I’d like to keep my personal life personal.

Performance Anxiety
Where does City Council get off? On Monday they gave their blessing for the Performing Arts Center. That’s millions and millions of dollars going into something that I find completely outrageous. My taxes will help pay for it, my dinners out will help pay for it and yet I do not get a voice in where that money is spent? That’s ludicrous! It would be one thing if the Performing Arts Center was going to host cultural arts events of some significance. But from everything I read, it looks like a bunch of elitist crapola. Opera? Ballet? Symphony? What the hell?

And if you read the fine print on the development plan, it looks like they’re going to establish a Commonwealth of Virginia Mime College. I don’t think the world needs more mimes and I sure as hell don’t want to pay for their education. It’s like a bunch of art kooks have taken the city hostage and we’re going to suffer for at least the next twenty years. You know what else it will have? A 2000 sq. ft. gallery space for food that looks like famous people. Are you freaking kidding me? Is that really the answer for an economically starved downtown? A potato that looks like Sharon Stone? It gets worse.

Reading through their proposal is like picking a scab, the more you dig, the more gross and painful it gets. Page 98 reads: “$1.7 million to establish the Bill “Bojangles” Robinson Academy of Moonwalking to further the study, performance and teaching of a true American dance art.” Turn to page Page 112 for this gem: “$475,000 for the acquisition of white gloves, shepherd’s crooks and top hats for old-timey vaudeville-like shenanigans.” Page 117: “$221,000 for a years supply of Floam, the shapable moldable substance that is often referred to as ‘Fun you can feel.’” Seriously? Floam? What does that even have to do with “performing”? But the capper, the absolute, jaw-dropping cherry on top of the ginormous, stinking doody sundae… is on Page 128. The item reads: “$3.9 million to be allotted to the purchase of a Blue Man.” Apparently, they can’t afford the whole group yet so they plan on purchasing one at a time. Oh boy, this city really steams my clams.

- Walter Butterick

If I had the money I would totally buy a Blue Man. Those guys are hilarious.