Letters To The President

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Letter to the President #46 | Subject: Getting Engaged, The New Year, Disney Movies, etc.

2010-01-02T18:11:00.001-08:00

Dear President Obama,

Well, I’ve got some news to share at the start of the New Year—I got engaged! Yep, my girlfriend and I went to the Foshay Tower, the first skyscraper built in Minneapolis, which is now a hotel, and we stayed the night and went to Murray’s, one of the finer dining establishments in town.

That wasn’t my original proposal idea; I’d contacted the folks at the Como Zoo in St. Paul and asked if I could propose amid the penguins, but no dice. Apparently the penguins are as aristocratic as I thought. They have all these unspoken rules about dress codes and social order, and the zookeepers tell me that the penguins likely would have scoffed at anything but Tiffany and Company jewels. In short, they’re kind of like Victorian British people.

And really, the whole marriage proposal/engagement process seems somewhat aristocratic to me. First, there is the term “proposal” itself. That’s not a word most people use very often; when I think of proposals, I usually think of business—building townhomes with a highway for a front yard or draining a bunch of wetlands for a strip mall. (Well, that or Jonathan Swift and eating babies.)

And once a proposal has been accepted, it’s declared an engagement. It’s strange we generally use the word engagement in one of two different ways— either one can either expect cake or artillery shells. (If it’s a military wedding, perhaps both.)

Anyway, as I’m now officially part of my fiancee’s family (Mr. President, do you also associate the word family with the mob? I do.), I attended their Christmas celebration, which as tradition dictates, involves a movie and a steak and crab dinner. Now I’m going to state the obvious here, but crabs have a lot of legs. As I was disassembling my meal, digit by digit, it struck me that perhaps we’re using crabs for the wrong purpose. Yes, they certainly are tasty, but they have a lot of legs. I bet king crabs could type really fast if we gave them typewriters. Of course, keyboards would be problematic, as we’d have to protect the electronics from the water, and that’d probably involve scuba suits. And then the copiers and all the other office equipment would feel left out and want one and pretty soon we’d have a whole menagerie of office equipment under the sea. First off, that’d look really weird, and there’s a pretty good chance that they’d turn that into a Disney musical like The Little Mermaid.

(I don’t know if I could handle another one of those movies; sometimes I buy king crab at the grocery store hoping that it’s one Sebastian’s relatives.) If that seems farfetched, remember that movie The Brave Little Toaster?

I’m pretty sure that movie was created in similar fashion. The writer had a deadline and was desperate. He looked in his living room and saw a blanket, a lamp, a vacuum cleaner, and in the kitchen—a toaster on the counter. The toaster was sitting all alone next to the blender, which nearly made the writer’s girlfriend an amputee, so the writer decided it was brave.

Really? Even as a kid, I knew there wasn’t much to associate with in that show. I mean, blankets aren’t that tough, lamps wear lampshades (apparently they haven’t heard of hats?), vacuums suck, and toasters are ridiculously vulnerable to forks and/or knives, as my mother always warned/informed me.

Anyway, thankfully we didn’t see a Disney movie or anything like that. We saw Sherlock Holmes; it was fun, but I was unaware that Sherlock was an expert in Muay Thai boxing and was not very tall and didn’t carry a magnifying glass everywhere he went. (It was also a surprise to find out that he was Robert Downey, Jr.)

With that said, it was a lot of fun, and I’m certainly excited for the New Year.

Take care,

Brett

P.S. After a break, I'm back at the letters to President Obama. Here's the deal: I write him a random, zany letter, then I send it. Here's to hoping to getting a response. Read them all at this link:

http://brettsletterstothepres.blogspot.com/

If you like these letters, PLEASE help me get the word out. I am the world's worst marketer, so please tell your friends, post them on social networking sites, and whatnot.

You can also join my gather group here: letterstothepres.gather.com

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Letter to President Obama #45 | Subject: Santa, Ghosts, That Stupid Dog That Laughs At You In Duck Hunt

2009-12-29T20:10:00.000-08:00

Dear President Obama,

Each holiday has its own associated stories and tall tales and characters, and as Christmas just passed, I’ve been thinking about Santa and the elves, and other holidays too. When separated from their holiday context, some holiday stories don’t make a lot of sense. Some are even a little creepy. Santa Claus is a good example.

Santa Claus

I mean, consider Santa Claus. If you walked up to me and told me that an obese bearded man who lives at the North Pole on a bunch of pack-ice knows if I’ve been naughty or nice because he’s been watching me and is planning to sneak into my home via my chimney and then abscond with milk and some of my freshly baked goods, that’d be creepy.

But, if you were to add that he’s going to bring me a toy, that’s not creepy. That’s wonderful, wonderful news. The presents make all the difference. They make logic superfluous.

Like most kids, I loved Christmas, but I didn’t believe in Santa for very long; the jig was up when I was about 5 or 6. I still remember going to the kitchen table and calling my parents into the room, telling them that there was something I wanted to discuss. I sat with my hands folded, and like a miniature lawyer, I outlined my case. Santa visits every house, but there are far too many houses to visit in one night. More importantly, he visits every house, but the world is full of all sorts of poor people and they don’t seem to get any presents. If they did, the sleigh would have to be a lot bigger, and it’d be full of chickens and cows and sandwiches. I admitted that this might be possible to deliver in a very large boat of some sort, or perhaps a wagon train or caravan of some sort, but that wasn’t how the story went.

When I realized that my parents were Santa, it made me realize how kind my parents had been to me and my sister, as we weren’t rich, by any means. One of my favorite Christmas moments came soon thereafter; my parents asked me what I wanted for Christmas, and I told them a Nintendo, as I’d been trudging over to my friend Jeff’s house to play Nintendo, and specifically, my favorite game, Duck Hunt. My friends were partial to Mario Brothers and repeatedly told me that Duck Hunt was lame.

Back then, a Nintendo was expensive, about $100, and I knew we didn’t have a lot of money, so when my mom told me that we couldn’t afford it, I was disappointed and I told her that I understood. Well, on Christmas morning, there was a large rectangular box under the tree, and when I opened it up, I couldn’t believe it. Strangely, it was then that my parents informed me that I’d have to go to bed an hour earlier, at 8 instead of 9. This was a small price to pay, but I wondered why until one night when I was lying in bed and I could hear furtive whispering in the background. It was my parents.

Mom: Are they in bed?

Dad: Yeah, I put them to bed ten minutes ago.

Mom: Do you think they are asleep?

Dad: Yeah, OK. Turn the game on. Give me that controller, I want to be Mario.

Sure enough, my parents were playing the Nintendo, and through the crack in the door I could see my mom leaning with the controller while trying to avoid the goombahs and koopa troopas.

That was fine with me, as I got to play Duck Hunt as much as I wanted. I still like that game, and I don’t even like hunting. I also don’t like the Duck Hunt dog; you know, the one that jumps up after you miss and laughs at you despite your fruitless attempts to shoot it? What kind of hunting dog laughs at you if you miss? That’s like a seeing-eye dog chuckling as you tumble down the stairs at the mall.

The Tooth Fairy

While Santa was at least convincing for a short time, I never really believed in the tooth fairy. There wasn’t much of a back story there. So let me get this right: My tooth falls out, I put it under my pillow and some fairy comes and gives me some spare change for it?

That leaves a little too much to the imagination. What does he or she need them for? Does the tooth fairy simply collect teeth, like some people collect stamps? Weird. In retrospect, that sounds a little Ed Gein to me. I suppose an argument could be made that maybe other kids needed those baby teeth (babies?), so maybe it was a really gross form of recycling.

The whole tooth fairy thing also seemed to encourage violence. I remember many occasions when my sister and I, strapped for cash, discussed how we would split our haul the next morning after we punched a few teeth out of each other. My parents thought that we were always punching each other because we didn’t along, but they were wrong, we were simply good capitalists in it for the money.

The whole tooth fairy charade came crashing down after I lost a pair of teeth when I was five or so. I put them under my pillow and woke up the next morning, only to find my teeth and a bit of a bloodstain, which I thought was gross. OK, so the tooth fairy was late. So I slept a bit more. When I awoke, same thing. I tried to sleep a bit longer, and when I was just about to fall asleep I heard a jingle, jingle and felt my pillow being wrenched up while the teeth were yanked out. I opened my eyes to catch my mother with the change in one hand and the teeth in the other. Then she started laughing and couldn’t stop; this happens sometimes.

Halloween

Halloween is another holiday that I really enjoy, as there is candy involved. It is a holiday that can get rather strange at times, as you never know what you’ll get from your various neighbors. For instance, one lady on our block was a little bit loony. For instance, when her mailbox fell off, she tied it back on with a bra, and when her dryer broke, she hung up her clothes in her trees. On Halloween, instead of handing out candy, she gave us a choice, we could have a dime or a pencil. It always seemed like a trick question. I usually picked the dime, and then used the dime to buy a piece of candy from my sister.

Sadly, Halloween is sometimes considered a ‘bad’ holiday, as some people object to the inclusion of witches, ghosts and goblins and the general veneration of the “occult.” Personally, I think that the religious holiday on November 1, “All Souls Day” is far creepier, as it sounds a lot like a death metal band name. I don’t see the harm in Halloween, as I don’t believe in demons, witches or ghosts. (While I don’t believe in ghosts, I do believe in really, really white people. I’m one of them! I’m kind of like those snow hares that turn pure white in winter, except I stay that way all the time.)

I don’t really believe in Ouija boards either. Every time I play with one, I try to communicate with one of the Parker Brothers, or at least one of their board game representatives (e.g. the Monopoly guy) as they sell the Ouija board and it says Parker Brothers in big letters on the side. I figure, if I can’t get in contact with them, or at least supernatural customer service, then the game totally must not work.

Wow, this letter really got long! Well, as you can tell, I like holidays, and I sometimes talk a lot. My apologies for that. In any case, thanks for reading, and take care.

Brett Ortler

P.S. After a break, I'm back at the letters to President Obama. Here's the deal: I write him a random, zany letter, then I send it. Here's to hoping to getting a response. Read them all at this link: brettsletterstothepres.blogspot.com

If you like these letters, PLEASE help me get the word out. I am the world's worst marketer, so please tell your friends, post them on social networking sites, and whatnot.

You can also join my gather group here: letterstothepres.gather.com

Become a fan on Facebook here: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#/pages/Brett-Ortlers-Letters-to-the-President/211691443300?ref=ts

Or join my Facebook group here: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#/group.php?gid=133461535328&ref=ts

Letter to President Obama #44 | Subject: The “War on Christmas”

2009-12-27T17:55:00.000-08:00

Dear President Obama,

So Christmas has come and gone once again, and with it, we can say goodbye to the perennial fight about the so-called “War on Christmas.” But come every October or November, we can look forward to various political groups and news commentators bewailing how Christmas is under attack. (I won’t point fingers, but the last name of the guy I’m thinking of rhymes with “Nosmiley.”)

Now I think I understand their main concern: They feel like the culture at large is hostile to Christianity, and such hostility, they argue, is readily apparent in the media around Christmastime, especially in the marketing campaigns of various national retailers, which prefer to produce inclusive marketing campaigns and use terminology like Happy Holidays or Season’s Greetings. They feel that such companies are purposely excluding Christianity and denying it its rightful place as the primary cultural influence on American society. After identifying such groups, they take action—usually by boycotting that establishment until it relents and includes the terms “Merry Christmas” or ceases running the ad.

First of all, I don’t really think it is my place to tell a retailer how to phrase their marketing campaigns. Though now that I think of it, I’d like to consider creating an advocacy group to make sure some of my favorite holiday phrases are included in the corresponding holiday advertisements.

I’m an agnostic, so maybe I could band together with other agnostics to have retailers reflect our uncertainty about our metaphysical beliefs. It could feature banners and ads with the slogan: Happy Agnosticism Day?

Similarly, I’d like all Thanksgiving ads to include LOTS of gobbling, to the point where the viewer wonders if it will ever stop. (Gobbling jokes are inherently funny.) I’d like all Halloween advertisements to include a kid draped in a sheet in the old stand-by ghost costume. This is probably my favorite costume, despite the unexpected consequences that it may bring, as I learned on one Halloween in college: I didn’t have a costume so I cut a couple holes in a sheet and walked around the dorm trick-or-treating. Unfortunately I had pretty poofy hair, so much so that I kind of looked like a clansman. I didn’t realize this until I came to an African-American’s door. He answered, looked at me and simply said, “Oh, you came to the wrong door!”

And really, I don’t think that including the phrase “Merry Christmas” in a Gap commercial is going to do all that much. It’s not like one could ever forget which holiday is coming up. By the end of December, I’ve already heard Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” at least a hundred times, and it includes the word “Christmas” seven times, so I’ve heard the word “Christmas” at least 700 times from that song alone. (Don’t even get me started on the 12 days of Christmas.)

And even if Gap does include the phrase in their ads, it’s not likely to convert all that many people. The Gap isn’t exactly a theological powerhouse. Theology is simply not what they are out to do; they are out to sell dorky pants and sweaters and socks to fairly rich white people.

Even the outright inclusion of Christian proselytizing in Gap’s ads wouldn’t solve the problem. I mean, let’s say they put Jesus in Gap jeans and one of those puffy winter jackets and have imploring you to buy Gap jeans or face eternal hellfire. That’d be blasphemy, and it would make for really creepy commercials.

And then there are the problems with the individual phrases themselves. I’ll deal with each one by one.

Merry Christmas

The problem with this phrase is that it’s really specific. Christmas occurs on one day, but it’s bookended by a number of different holidays. In December and January alone, we’ve got Christmas, New Year’s Eve/Day, Hanukah, and sometimes Ramadan.
First, there is the problem of accuracy. If you tell someone Merry Christmas in November, that’s weird and will probably make that person want to buy you a calendar.

And then there’s the problem of people with different belief systems. Saying Merry Christmas to everyone you meet is more than a bit inconsiderate, as assuming everyone shares your beliefs seems a bit pushy if you ask me. I usually like to get to know someone first, before bringing up my personal religious convictions. (My parents always told me—it’s not polite to talk politics or religion to strangers, and this seems to be such an instance.) Sure, once you know someone is in fact, a Christian, then Merry Christmas away! I said it a whole bunch of times over the holiday. (On the other hand, telling a Jewish stranger Merry Christmas doesn’t seem like the nicest thing to do).

Season’s Greetings

Season’s Greetings is problematic for a different reason. Since it’s a possessive, I imagine we’re talking about what each season might say as a greeting. This got me thinking: what exactly would a given season say? I suppose it depends on where you’re from—the seasons in the Sahara probably have the same message (I hope you brought water and sunscreen), just as all the seasons in Antarctica might say something like (Here, watch these crazy birds in tuxedoes as you freeze to death!)

Since I’m in Minnesota and we have four distinct seasons, I suppose the seasons would say something like this:

Spring: Do you like mud and slush? If so, you’ll enjoy March and April!
Summer: Go fishing and drink beer in the sun while you still can!
Fall: Watch out, I’m going to throw leaves at you!
Winter: Misery!

As Christmas occurs in winter, “Misery” doesn’t seem like an appropriate tagline for such a joyful season, so I’d say skip this term.

Happy Holidays

That leaves us with Happy Holidays. To me, Happy Holidays seems the most accurate phrase. Let’s face it: there are several widely celebrated holidays toward the end of December. So it’s always accurate, it’s got that nice alliteration, and it helps one avoid being too presumptive in the company of strangers. As marketing campaigns are designed for the general public, this makes sense for major retailers to use.

Most importantly, the whole “Merry Christmas” fight seems to be diverting attention from the theological problem I think Christians should be more attentive to—the commercialization of Christmas. I mean, we’re talking about a guy who seems to be pretty anti-wealth.

The Gospel of Mark (10:25) comes to mind:

It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.

It’s a bit hard to marry that verse up with Black Friday and customers sprinting through stores for the latest electronic gadget. Then again, I suppose that’s a topic for another letter.

Take care,
Brett Ortler

P.S. After a break, I'm back at the letters to President Obama. Here's the deal: I write him a random, zany letter, then I send it. Here's to hoping to getting a response. Read them all at this link: brettsletterstothepres.blogspot.com

If you like these letters, PLEASE help me get the word out. I am the world's worst marketer, so please tell your friends, post them on social networking sites, and whatnot.

You can also join my gather group here: letterstothepres.gather.com

Become a fan on Facebook here: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#/pages/Brett-Ortlers-Letters-to-the-President/211691443300?ref=ts

Or join my Facebook group here: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#/group.php?gid=133461535328&ref=ts

Letter to the President #43 | Subject: Health Care, Abstinence, Weddings, etc.

2009-12-21T21:38:00.001-08:00

Letter to the President #43 | Subject: Health Care, Abstinence, Weddings, etc.

Dear President Obama,

Since everyone in the country is talking about health care right now, I thought I’d chime in too. Well, actually, I’m not going to chime in on the whole health care bill. In particular, I’ve been reading about the feisty debate that’s sprung up around abstinence-only education and certain provisions that were proposed in the healthcare bill. From what I’ve read, several measures in the bill will fund abstinence-only education.

Now, I have to be honest, Mr. President, I don’t know if this is such a great idea.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand why people would suggest that abstinence is the answer. A number of health-related issues—teen pregnancy, the spread of STDs—certainly stem from the result of sexual activity, and if there is no sexual activity, there’s no chance of these problems. Some groups have therefore been popularizing the idea of “abstinence rings” in order to combat sex-related ills; these rings symbolize a purity pledge that the wearer takes, which states that they promise to remain a virgin until they are married.

This doesn’t seem like a very good idea for several reasons. First, it probably is setting up our young people for unhappy marriages. Let’s be honest; certain aspects of marital life take a bit of practice, so giving one’s teenage bride-to-be an abstinence ring seems a little like saying, “Here, the first night of our honeymoon is going to be really, really awkward.”

Of course, the bigger problem has to do with how humans (and especially young people) seem to work: First, we’re hardwired for reproduction, so we’re automatically going to be aware of the subject. (There was a reason Baywatch was popular. It wasn’t acting.)

And then there’s the psychological factor; prohibition is almost always the doorway to overindulgence. This is probably why our culture is permeated with sex—we want what we’re told we can’t have and we compensate. This is also why there will never be an Amish Britney Spears; clearly very few people care what Spears or Lady GaGa (what IS she saying in that Bad Romance song?) or Rhianna are actually saying, many of us (like it or not) are interested in their low-cut tops and the hip thrusting.

(Then again, I suppose my mention of an Amish superstar is a bad example. Yes, the Amish are quite chaste and Amish women do not generally wear revealing clothes, but an Amish superstar would necessarily depend on the use of electronic gear, microphones, and whatnot, so that kind of goes without saying. Perhaps one day there will be an Amish singer with a really, really loud voice and really catchy lyrics in Pennsylvania Dutch, but I doubt it.)

And then there is the problem of failure. For instance, let’s say you have one of those promise rings on as a teenager, and you break your pledge. What do you do the next day? You can’t take the ring off, obviously, or your cover is totally blown. So then you either have to fess up (have fun with that) or lie until you get hitched. (I suppose you could lose the ring in a freak accident.) In any case, then the ring becomes something much more negative; a harbinger of impending doom. (OK, I didn’t have to type that phrase there, but I really wanted to type “impending doom.” It’s a lot of fun to type. Try it!)

I digress. In short, rejecting our healthy, innermost urges seems arbitrary and counterproductive; instead, tempering them and shaping them seems a wiser course of action. Guilt is almost never a healthy educational tool. Unless you are a Catholic. Then it is the only educational tool. (I’m kidding, Mom!)

In addition to the abstinence-only approach, why not push sexual education too? This sounds like the best of all words. Abstinence-only education is a bit too much of a “one size fits all” approach; it doesn’t consider much nuance (i.e. a teenager who is well-adjusted, smart and ready for such activity at that age).

In this respect, it’s a little like proposing marriage by having a skywriter write, “Will you marry me?” in giant letters above the horizon. Sure, it’s romantic (if the skywriter can spell), but what about the innumerable other wholly-committed-but-hitherto-unmarried couples down below in sight of the same proposal? What does one to say to the poor sap stuck with a gushing girlfriend who is crying because she thinks he is finally proposing and then is crying the whole way home once he explains that he doesn’t have a ring (yet) and that’s it’s probably for someone else.

[The same goes for writing wedding proposals in chalk at the park. This too could make for awkward moments; what if two friendly, but single coworkers were on a walking lunch in the park, and after crossing a stone bridge see “Marry me?” in big letters. For a moment there would probably be awkward silence and then perhaps a polite refusal, or worse, a sudden acceptance.]

In any case, there are certainly other options at hand, so I’d like to see a proper sexual education provision added to the Health Care bill.

Take care,

Brett

Letter to President Obama #42 | Subject: Politics

2009-12-20T12:46:00.000-08:00

Letter to President Obama #42 | Subject: Politics

Dear President Obama,

I guess you could say that I’m a political junkie. I’m pretty interested in politics—I read all sorts of articles—everything from Wall Street Journal and the slightly-crazy Washington Times to the New York Times and the sometimes-cartoonish Huffington Post. (I’m sorry, but I can’t take the name “Huffington” seriously. I always think of Harry Potter—you know, the “Hufflepuff” house— and in turn, the word Hufflepuff makes me think of little marshmallow people waddling about.)

Sometimes the word “Huffington” makes me think of the three little pigs story. You know, the one with the wolf that huffs and puffs? This story never made sense to me. So there are pigs…and they live in…houses. Now I never knew about the suspension of disbelief as a kid, but OK, I’ll roll with it. So each pig lives in a house, and each house is constructed of a different material. The first has a house of straw (ok?), the second has a house made of sticks (I guess his neighbors weren’t beavers), and the third had a house made of bricks. As the reader becomes aware, the structural integrity of these materials becomes quite important to the story, as the wolf huffs and puffs and blows the first two houses into oblivion and eats the inhabitants. (Yeah, what a great message to pass on to four-year-olds.)

In the end, only the third pig survives, because he lived in a brick house. As a child, I had one response—utter terror. Specifically, I wanted to know—did wolves like this actually exist? I quickly realized that I lived in a house that was made largely of wood. That is to say, sticks. I soon begged my father to get the .22 from the basement and to shoot any wolf-like creatures he saw. Unfortunately, my cousins were outside and one of them had one of those rat mullets so popular in the ‘80s. He was seriously grazed by a bullet. I still feel guilty about this.

Anyway, back to politics. So when I’m reading these political stories, there are often “comment” buttons at the bottom of each story where one can chime in and say whatever they want about, well, anything. These buttons should probably be renamed. If the buttons said “share your hasty generalization” or “we’d like to hear your conspiracy theory” then these buttons might be more accurate. Occasionally I’ll take the time to offer a reasoned opinion, but thanks to the anonymous nature of the web, when I do I usually called a bunch of names. (What exactly is a pinko, anyway?)

Now political ranting happens all the time across the political spectrum (the Bush years anyone?), but for some reason people on the right have been particularly vocal lately. They’ve got some pretty inaccurate ideas about you—that you’re not an American, that you hate white people, that there will be death squads for grandparents if the health plan passes.

Don’t get me wrong, everyone has a right to an insane opinion, but it’s just that all that stuff is clearly untrue. Such slander is harmful, because it interrupts the difficult process of compromise—if we keep flinging around insane accusations, then we won’t get any real work done. (Then again, maybe that’s the point.)

Anyway, I assumed that those ideas would seem laughable to any reasonable person, as they’ve been debunked by serious folks from across the spectrum. (When the National Review—the same publication started by William F. Buckley—debunks the birth certificate notion, then one thinks this sort of thing should be settled.)

But people still believe this sort of thing, so to try to make light of the situation, I started adding my own “facts” to these comment sections. I tried to make things as outlandish as possible—to fight misinformation with hyperbole.

There’s been a lot of bad mouthing going on about Canada, so I told everyone that not only were you not an American citizen, that you’re actually from Canada, and that you secretly planned to merge the governments of both countries into a new country, Americanadia. This would mean we’d all have to have Canada’s apparently-dreadful healthcare—in Canada, surgeons use hockey skates as scalpels and the end-of-life care there is particularly chilling—you’re provided with an iceberg and told to “fall asleep” as you float into the nebulous dark.

And I told them that any of us younger survivors would have it bad too—we’d all have to go to (hockey) camps where we’d be given “swine-flu” shots (mind-control!) and then subjected to vigorous “re-education” where we’d have to swear allegiance to the new nation and its flag, which would feature a Canada Goose pecking at a defenseless bald eagle chick.

The problem was, people started to believe me.

Let me know what you think,

Brett

P.S. This is letter #42 to the President. Brett is sending them all to the White House and has gotten two form letters in response. If he gets a real response, he'll let everyone know. If you like these, please tell your friends by sharing them. Please join my Facebook group here. Above all, thanks for reading!

Letter to President Obama #41 | Subject: Baked Goods, the Internet, and The Afterlife

2009-07-23T19:51:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-19T20:20:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-16T21:19:00.003-07:00

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

2009-07-16T21:19:00.001-07:00

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

2009-07-14T22:12:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-13T20:30:00.000-07:00

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 #36 | Subject: A Housewarming Present from the President?

2009-07-06T21:45:00.000-07:00

Dear President Obama,

First of all, my apologies for not writing sooner. I’ve been pretty busy for the past few weeks, as I’ve been moving into a new house. Nevertheless, I’ve been scribbling down notes for these letters, so here we go:

I didn’t know how to set this up, so I’m just going to out-and-out ask it: Can I have a housewarming present from the White House? Not from you, personally, I mean; I know you’re basically the busiest dude on the planet right now. Instead, I’d just like something that had been at the White House that you don’t really need. As things currently stand, the only items that I have from the White House are those Christmas ornaments they sell every year and some of those White House Easter Eggs. Unfortunately, I only have ones from the Bush Administration, as a friend of a friend got them for our family. Don’t get me wrong, they’re pretty nice, but it’s a little weird at Easter. I’ll see the Easter Eggs on display and then I’ll inevitably think of Dick Cheney in an Easter Bunny costume, which is basically the worst image imaginable. In this recurring mental image, he’s always armed with a shotgun in a blaze orange bunny costume and slowly hopping towards me. Then I’ll snap out if it and the Easter Egg hunt starts, but by then it’s too late and I’m hesitant and wary and subconsciously shielding my face.

So an Obama Administration Easter Egg would be great, as it’d help me cleanse my emotional palette, so to speak. I’m not asking for anything big—a White House pen or a towel would be cool (though if it’s a Clinton-era towel, I’d really want it sanitized first). Anyway, if those are too spendy, that’s ok; the weirder the object, the better. Maybe just a Tupperware top that the White House chef can’t find the container for—that happens to me all the time. In fact, I’m pretty confident that I could start my own business just manufacturing extra Tupperware tops and containers; then I’d sell them separately and people would be able to create a new pair. Conceivably, one could do the same thing with other things that often go missing, like socks or pet cats, or children. Anyway, you could find one of these and you could just write “FROM THE WHITE HOUSE” on it or something and that’d do. I’d totally frame it and put it on my wall.

If that sort of thing isn’t available, I just have to ask, did Nixon ever make a mix tape? I knew he was big in recording everything (and himself, which I never really understood); anyway, if he made a mix tape, that’d be great. I’ll take a copy. On second thought, maybe that’s not a great idea. I’m pretty sure that he liked music I’d hate. I just looked up Nixon’s favorite song and apparently it was Richard Rodgers and his song, “Victory at Sea.” This doesn’t sound promising, unless it’s a cool Johnny Horton “The Battle of New Orleans” sort of thing.

Update: I just listened to the Rodgers song on YouTube. It was more than a little terrible. With my luck, Nixon probably liked Lawrence Welk too. And I’ve reached my lifetime quota on champagne music, so please scratch that idea. In retrospect, a pen or a towel would be best.

Thanks for reading, and take care.

Brett Ortler

P.S. This is letter #36 to President Obama. Brett was writing a letter a day, but then he moved. So there was a delay. Now he's writing letters again. Let him know what you think, and he'll let you know if he gets a response.

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

2009-06-19T18:18:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-18T15:48:00.001-07:00

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

2009-06-16T20:57:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-15T21:14:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-11T08:30:00.000-07:00

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 #31 | Subject: Cats, The Transportation Security Administration, and U.S. Customs

2009-06-09T18:49:00.000-07:00

Dear President Obama,

As you know, I’ve been writing you letters fairly often, once or so a day for about a month now. But I’ve slacked off the last week or so, as I’m pretty busy, as I’m moving into a new house soon. As you can imagine, I have boxes all over the place.

Unfortunately, I also have cats. This means that my cats keep investigating every box I have, and by “investigate,” I mean they tip them over. Then they spread all of the contents over the floor and then hide in the box. They usually do this at night, so every morning I wake up, I find that my “kitchen” box is halfway down the hallway and it looks like a culinary hurricane passed through the living room in the night.

This has some unexpected consequences—because when I’m in a rush to get to work, I sometimes miss a few items. Then I’m at work and I get a phone call from my girlfriend, who reminds me (again) that it is less than pleasant to sit on the couch and then realize you’re sitting on a spatula. I always tell her that it could be worse, it could be a whisk, or something, but apparently that’s not much consolation.

In any case, I haven’t gotten that much packing done yet. In any event, to prevent this from happening again, I’d like to get my cats temporary jobs. That’s where I need your help, Mr. President; I think my cats could be a great fit for one of several government positions.

First of all, I think my cats would be a great fit for the Transportation Security Administration. As I mentioned, my cats love all varieties of packages, boxes and luggage. Sitting by the conveyor belt with all that luggage would be perfect for my cats. Dogs would be a poor choice for this position. For instance, my dog’s pretty selfish; he just investigates every plastic bag we bring in the house because he thinks there is a toy in it for him.

My cats are also really, really crabby, which I’ve concluded is a necessary requirement for candidates at the TSA. Even better, my cats are also quite suspicious, but unlike their human counterparts, they don’t discriminate on the basis of race. In fact, my cats don’t discriminate whatsoever; my cats are suspicious of me all the time. More than that, sometimes my cats are outright contemptuous. (To tell the truth, sometimes I think my cat wishes I didn’t exist. Especially when I try to make the bed when he’s sleeping on it.)

Now, there is a downside to employing cats at the TSA. There is the problem of catnaps.

Even if the TSA thing didn’t work out, I think my cat would be a great Customs Agent. I mean, other than the general curiosity and grumpiness, my cats are also very clever; I mean, there’s no swindling a cat. On the other hand, I’m pretty sure I could get my dog to bite his own tail if I gave him enough treats. Not so with a cat.

I think this characteristic would be a benefit for the Customs Agency. For instance, if someone were trying to sneak a few dozen cases of Labatt’s Blue Beer across the U.S.-Canada border without paying the required taxes, my cats would see right through that. Once, I tried to trick one of my cats, Xerox, into thinking that I’d put extra food into his dish, but I’d really just moved some from his sister’s dish (Peanut) into his. He looked at both dishes, back at me, and then he literally shook his head “no” three times. If he could have reported me to some sort of authority, he would have.

Finally, my cats also have the chutzpah to stand their ground and turn offenders and rule- breakers in, if necessary. I have personal experience with this—I was coming back to the States from Canada, and I was bringing a whole bunch of fruit back from Vancouver. I didn’t know that certain foods weren’t allowed across the border, so according to the rules, the Customs people had to seize it as contraband.

If that were me, I wouldn’t be able to do this all the time; I’d probably be too nice about it and let them go. Instead, the border control person, who looked a little like a cat, seized my food. For a moment, I thought she was going to eat it in front of me. She didn’t, but I’m still pretty sure they never have to bring in lunch to work. Jerks. To be sure, I have no doubt that my cat would have done the same thing.

So please consider my cats for the TSA or the Customs Agency; if they have jobs, maybe I can get some packing done.

Thanks, and take care,

Brett Ortler

This is letter #31 to President Obama; I was writing one a day for about three weeks, but slowed down the pace a bit because of the problems listed in this letter. I'm sending all of these letters to the President; I'll let you know if I get a response. If you like these, please let me know and tell your friends. Thanks.

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

2009-06-05T19:02:00.000-07:00

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 #29 | Subject: Presidential Public Service Announcements

2009-06-01T21:33:00.000-07:00

Dear President Obama,

I’ve got a question about public service announcements. Every once in a while, I drive by this billboard with this strange public service announcement on it—it says Leadership: Pass it On. I don’t like this billboard. Every time I drive past it I immediately signal the wrong way with my blinker and begin swerving.

I’ve seen others like it, and I’d like to know, is the government responsible for these? If so, can we please stop funding them? I saw one a while back that essentially told me not to swear, and I never wanted to swear more in my life! And boy can I swear! (For a while, looking up swear words was my job. Really! I researched swear words in about 30 languages for a multinational corporation to make sure that those bad words didn’t appear in their products.) In the process, I learned how to tell someone to “have no cow!” and to “get blind at celebration time” in Rwandan. Anyway, so I drove past this sign and I started swearing, and the guy in the car next to me did too, and I think the school bus driver behind me did as well (though that probably just comes with the territory.) It was sort of like that movie Pay it Forward, but with curse words.

And it’s not just that these billboards are pretentious, they seem to indicate that the “negative” emotions are totally worthless, but I couldn’t disagree more. Every emotion has its place and time. For instance, I think a giant advertisement featuring Marvin the Martian with the tagline, Anger: Sometimes it’s funny would be a great fit!

Anyway, I’m not just angry about the weird values billboards. There’s another sign just off the highway by my apartment that bothers me too, but I don’t know if it’s by the same people—it’s a little blue highway sign that just reads, “Concentrate on Driving.” Let me tell you, I’ve never wanted to hit anything with a car more in my life! Every time I drive past it, I want to start texting and swerving and playing chicken with oncoming traffic. Mr. President, can you please call the Isanti County Department of Transportation and tell them to change this sign? If I call, they’ll probably hang up on me. But you could probably make it happen.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not against Public Service Announcements, generally. I just think we could be doing a better job. I think the current ads are ineffective and self-defeating. I’d like to encourage you to create Public Service Announcements based upon various U.S. Presidents. To be sure, the presidents represent all sorts of virtues as well as a variety of cautionary tales.

For instance, we could feature William Henry Harrison in an ad for the National Institutes of Health or the Centers for Disease Control. You know, he was the 9^th president and the one who gave that really long inauguration speech (two hours!) in the rain without wearing a hat or a coat. Then he died of pneumonia on his 32^nd day in office. That PSA has already written itself—we’d just need a picture of Henry Harrison looking deathly ill with one of those speech bubbles: If it rains, don’t forget a coat!

And of course we could feature President Taft in anti-obesity PSA. We could show a picture of his giant bathtub along with the tagline: Don’t eat that burger! Or you might need a bathtub like mine—and it could hold six people!

If we really got into the swing of things, we could even co-opt the likenesses of various presidents to support various contemporary causes that didn’t exist during their time. For instance, we could feature George Washington in a PSA for climate-change awareness, but the tagline would be a little more esoteric. Something like: Turn off that wood-burning stove you young lad! It’ll pollute the phlogiston or whatever it was they thought the air was made up of back then.

Of course, this might be going a little too far. But you get the general idea. In any case, I think the Presidential PSAs would be far more effective than the current approaches.

Thanks for reading.

Brett Ortler

Letter to President Obama #28 | Subject: Public Education

2009-05-30T17:02:00.000-07:00

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

2009-05-27T16:35:00.000-07:00

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 the President #26 | Subject: Military Tribunals

2009-05-24T13:08:00.001-07:00

Letter to the President #26 | Subject: Military Tribunals

Letter to the President #26 | Subject: Military Tribunals

Dear President Obama,

Like many Americans, I’ve been reading a lot about the prison at Guantanamo Bay and about all of the controversy about what to do with the prisoners there once Gitmo is closed. I’ve read that you’re suggesting we create a variety of military tribunals to try these prisoners.

Personally, I don’t get why we just don’t just try them in civilian courts. I mean, we tried all sorts of scary people in criminal courts, and that process worked out pretty well. I mean, we even tried Jeffrey Dahmer in a criminal court, and that guy ate people. (I have a question about the Dahmer case; I read that he got killed with a mop handle in prison. This surprised me; I didn’t know that mops were a capital punishment option. That seems a little old fashioned, if I may say so.)

Anyway, if you’re determined to try these people in military courts, then I have a few suggestions. First of all, I think Judge Judy would be a great selection as Chief Justice of the Military Tribunals. Of course, we’d probably have to give her a military title so she’d fit in, so maybe we should make her a field marshal or something like that. Then again, I’m pretty sure that if we did, it’d go to her head. She’s kind of crazy like that. I could see her reaching over the bench and throwing a gavel at a disrespectful defendant as she yelled don’t you know that I’m a field marshal!? So maybe that’s not a great idea after all.

Of course, if we choose Judge Judy, the trials will have to be broadcast live on television, as otherwise Judge Judy would be out of her element. I’d suggest that we air these on the regular channels, not cable, so everyone could watch them. (Pay-per-view would be the wrong choice; these are military tribunals, not boxing matches or adult entertainment, Mr. President.)

Of course, if we choose Judge Judy for the tribunals, we’ll have to choose an appropriate bailiff. Have you ever noticed that the bailiffs on the judge-type TV shows are always really diverse? On Judge Mathis’s show, the judge is black and the bailiff is white. Then there’s the People’s Court where the judge is white and the bailiff is black. And one of the other judge shows has a male judge and a female bailiff. I think this was a nice gesture, so we should continue it at our Military Tribunals. Of course, we’d still have to choose carefully, as the bailiffs really help out the show, as the witty banter between the judge and the bailiff really lightens the mood. Of course, our bailiff would have to be tough, so I’d suggest someone from the Special Forces. Hey—do any of our Navy Seals do stand-up? If so, I think we’ve found our bailiff.

Finally, since your critics will probably say these tribunals will be kangaroo courts, perhaps you could preempt them and include a kangaroo (or at least a wallaby) in some nonessential court position. Perhaps the kangaroo could be a backup transcriptionist. Or maybe a koala could be the bailiff’s assistant. (It’d look so cute in one of those rent-a-cop uniforms!) In any event, some Australian animal should be included, as it’ll give the court an air of international inclusiveness. As I understand it, judges in the United Kingdom wear wigs to court; to augment the afore-mentioned inclusiveness, perhaps everyone present could wear wigs.

Please let me know what you think about these suggestions, and thanks.

Brett

Expand Tags: obama, series, hu

Letter to Obama #25 | Subject: A Note About Healthcare

2009-05-21T17:56:00.000-07:00

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

2009-05-19T18:45:00.001-07:00

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

2009-05-18T18:34:00.000-07:00

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 President Obama #22 | Subject: Code Names and The Secret Service

2009-05-17T20:34:00.000-07:00

Letter to President Obama #22 | Subject: Code Names and The Secret Service

Dear President Obama,

I’m writing because I have a few questions about the Secret Service. First of all, I understand that the Secret Service issues codenames for the First Family and for important members of government. Now, I know that I’m not a member of the government, but I’d really like to have a codename.

I’ve put a lot of thought into my secret codename options. Of course, I don’t want it to interfere with any of the official business at the White House. And really, the Secret Service folks wouldn’t have to memorize it or even use it; I’d just like them to call it over the earpieces once.

Really, this is my attempt at a footnote in history. I’d like my name to make it in on Wikipedia, with a short note saying, “was once referred to as _____________” by the Secret Service.

So I’ve got a few options lined up. My first choice would be “Rabid Wombat.” I know it sounds silly, but there’s no way you’d mistake it for anyone else’s codename (unless that name is already taken by Dick Cheney), and think about how cool it would be to hear Roger that, the Rabid Wombat is entering the Library of Congress. If that name is already taken, “The Do-Gooding Pirate” would be a good one for me too; I think it’d be great to hear, The Do-Gooding Pirate Is in the Capitol Cafeteria. (Wait, does the Capitol have a cafeteria? If so, do they have those little chocolate milk things like in Elementary School? And do they have lunch ladies, or do they have really attractive scantily clad 20-something co-eds as lunch ladies?)

In any case, if the codename doesn’t work out, I’d like a little help obtaining some Secret Service gear. Don’t worry, I’d like to do this for entirely benign reasons—I’d like to go as a Secret Service agent at Halloween next year.

To that end, I’d like to know: Do they sell those Secret Service earpieces anywhere? And by the way, what do Secret Service agents listen to on their earpieces? Is it just a running update on the status of the situation, or can they tune into radio stations? I ask this because one time I saw a Secret Service guy on TV and he was dancing, or at least bouncing around a bit as he scanned the crowd, and I swear I heard a really tinny rendition of a Bob Marley song in the background. Of course, I could be wrong, but this was during the Bush Administration, and I don’t know why they would have been playing Bob Marley. Ever.

Anyway, if Secret Service Man was listening to music, I’m not saying this is a bad thing. On the contrary, I think relaxing music would probably help those guys focus, and I’d encourage this. But whatever you do, don’t let the Secret Service guys listen to New Age-y music—in my experience, that stuff either puts me to sleep or makes me really, really angry. I’ve never wanted to suplex someone more than when listening to the supposedly relaxing music of Yanni or John Tesh. Either scenario could end badly if it occurred on the White House lawn.

In this respect, New Age-y music is sort of like those motivational posters. Both have noble intentions but utterly fail. An example: Once, my boss bought a motivational poster with a picture of the Great Wall of China on it and the word “Teamwork” in big letters. I started laughing when she showed it to me, thinking it was some sort of absurd joke. When they didn’t say anything, I frowned, and told them that I’d read that the Great Wall of China was built largely by slaves and it was rumored that some of those folks were buried in the wall when they died. Now it was my boss’s turn to frown, mutter something about demotion, and then she made it quite clear that the stupid thing was going above my desk. I don’t work there anymore.

Anyway, if I can’t get all of the Secret Service agent gear, maybe I could combine costumes; I could dress up like a Secret Service guy and then double as the guy who has that briefcase handcuffed to his arm all the time. But in order to make my costume as accurate as possible, I need answers to a few questions. First, is the whole briefcase thing in his job description, and what is his job title, by the way? Is it something simple like Nuclear Code Briefcase Man or something more grandiose, like The Protector of the Codes? In either case, I’m pretty sure there’s a comic book superhero in there somewhere, Mr. President.

And what happens if that briefcase handcuff chafes his arm a lot, it gets infected, and he has to take medical leave because of it? I imagine that’d get pretty awkward, especially if he had to specify on some form that he was missing work because of handcuff usage on the job. In this respect, I can empathize with The Protector of the Codes. Once when I was a kid, my sister handcuffed me with those fake kid handcuffs and then broke off the latch. I had that thing on my arm for a week. There’s nothing weirder than explaining that you have a handcuff on your arm because your sister handcuffed you to the deck. That story gets even worse—my neighbor friend, who was ten at the time and thought he was MacGyver, wanted to use an ax to get the handcuff off. Let me tell you, it’s not as easy to do as on TV.

Thank you for reading Mr. President, and let me know what you think.

Thanks,

Brett Ortler

Letter to President Obama #21 | Subject: Food, and the Food and Drug Administration

2009-05-15T22:38:00.000-07:00

Letter to President Obama #21 | Subject: Food, and the Food and Drug Administration

Dear President Obama,

I’ve got a few questions about food and food safety.

First, I read online the other day that a cook at a California diner spotted the Virgin Mary in a griddle. This surprised me for a few reasons. First, I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t be that concerned who was in the griddle; I’d just try to get them out of there! But the folks at the diner didn’t think to do this; instead, they left Mother Mary in there and featured the griddle in a shrine. Maybe they couldn’t find a spatula.

Anyway, that’s not why I’m writing. I’m writing because I’ve read stories like this on a number of occasions, and it got me wondering—isn’t the Food and Drug Agency on the look-out for this sort of thing? If they’re not, they probably should be.

I’m also a bit confused—I only seem to read about these stories at the grocery store, often while I’m in the checkout line. The tabloids there will have a picture of Mother Mary in a muffin, or a headline proclaiming that a likeness of Jesus was found in a jar of jam, and so on. Is this some sort of weird grocery marketing scheme?

If so, please tell the grocery lobbyists that their plan is a failure; it doesn’t make me want to buy more food. On the contrary, it makes me a lot more careful when I’m cooking. I mean, I’m not a very good Catholic (I’m aiming for Purgatory), but I know I’d be going to gehenna if I accidentally made a member of the Holy Family extra crispy. So now I cook my food more slowly and I eat less. If this isn’t all a grocery conspiracy, I wonder why the less obscure bible characters hardly make an appearance. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of Amminadab being found on an apple or Gad on a gumball. Then again, maybe they are there and we’re just not noticing them.

I also have a question about fruits and vegetables. They don’t have rights, do they? As I understand it, if I buy an orange, I can yell at it all I want, right? I know these are weird questions, so let me explain: Something strange happened to me at a Minnesota Twins game I recently attended. During the pregame festivities, all sorts of stuff was going on, and all of a sudden, the field was more or less empty and there were only two people on the field. One guy was dressed up like a banana. The other was dressed up like a strawberry. There was no explanation over the loudspeaker; the announcer guy was too busy trying to tell us about the official milk of the Minnesota Twins. (Only a team in Minnesota would have an official milk. Wisconsin’s baseball team doesn’t even have one—apparently, the official milk of the Milwaukee Brewers is beer.)

Anyway, this strawberry and banana thing made me really mad, because I was thinking about fruits and vegetables for the whole game. And Mr. President, that is NOT what I want to be thinking about at a baseball game. I want to be thinking about malt cups, hot dogs, beer, and my impending obesity, in that order. Anyway, in order to get back at them, I really want to attend another game, dress up in a costume of my own and chase the strawberry and banana around. To terrify them, I’m planning on dressing up as a blender. Ideally, I’d like hire a guy to wear a kiwi costume, catch him, and throw him into the blender, kicking and screaming. Then I’d chase the other two around screaming SMOOTHIE, SMOOTHIE, which I hope would scare them enough to never attend another Major League Baseball Game.

This wouldn’t be illegal, would it? I thought I should ask if it was first before renting the costumes, so please ask the folks at the FDA about this and get back to me.

Thanks,

Brett Ortler

Letter to Obama #20 | Subject: Smokey the Bear

2009-05-14T23:05:00.001-07:00

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

2009-05-13T18:57:00.000-07:00

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 #18 | Subject: Ideas for the Economy

2009-05-12T21:07:00.000-07:00

Letter to President Obama #18 | Subject: Ideas for the Economy and A Note about Birds

Dear President Obama,

I’ve got a few suggestions about the economy that I think might help the administration.

First of all, I’m in the process of buying my first home, and I was really excited to learn about the $8,000 tax rebate for first-time home buyers. I’ve been thinking about opening a small business with that money, and I learned of this business venture from a cartoon, The Duck Tales.

As you may recall, in The Duck Tales, Scrooge McDuck has a large vault in which he keeps all of his money. The vault is so full of coins that it’s a de facto swimming pool. Not surprisingly, Mr. McDuck (who is the uncle of Donald) is often shown swimming in his vault.

Ever since I saw The Duck Tales, I’ve wanted to swim in a pool of money too. So I did some calculations, and I was disappointed to find that even if I were to receive all of my tax rebate in pennies, I’d only be able to fill a 1,000-gallon aquarium. Needless to say, I couldn’t swim in that, Mr. President; I’m not a fish.

Nevertheless, I’ve been reading about the bank bailouts, and I’m pretty sure that the Treasury Department has enough money to make an Olympic-sized pool of money happen. By my calculations, all we’d need is about 39 million dollars in pennies! And Mr. President, please don’t think that this money would go to waste. I’m pretty sure that there are other people like me. If my hunch is correct, we could even market it as a tourist attraction and charge an entrance fee!

Of course, we’d have to take precautions against theft, and the “penny-dives” so popular with children at other pools would necessarily have to be frowned upon. In addition, I’ve read that money has a lot of germs on it, as well as traces of illicit drugs and even fecal matter (eew!), so we’d probably want to disinfect it. If these money pools were popular enough, we could open money pools all over the place, and the entrance fees could help us pay down the deficit.

And as far as marketing, we could probably get Scrooge McDuck to be the mascot, but I’d strongly advise against making a real duck, or any live bird, the mascot. Let me explain: While I’m an ardent fan of cartoon birds, I’m ambivalent about actual birds. They’re too noisy.

That becomes pretty clear when one goes camping—but birds can even be noisy indoors. For Father’s Day one year, we got my grandfather this bird clock that makes different bird calls at the top of every hour. So at noon you’d hear a cardinal calling and so on. That’s all well and good, but the clock keeps making sounds at night too. You know, when people sleep!

And I don’t know why, but they picked the most terrifying birds possible for the middle of the night. Haunting, brooding birds, like the loon and the raven. (Right, like I want to be thinking about Edgar Allen Poe at 3 AM.) I mean, aren’t there any quiet birds? I would have been fine if they’d picked a ninja bird or a mime bird, or a bird known predominantly for its skills with American Sign Language.

In the end, that was manageable; we just avoided the bird room at night. Later, when we got him a locomotive clock, things got totally out of hand. Of course, we put it in the same room, not wanting to sacrifice another room to a noisy clock. So every day at noon, the cardinal would start chirping and then it would be overwhelmed by the sound of a Canadian Pacific train engine. To make it fair, we turned up the bird clock so the cardinal would have a chance. The result was pandemonium, let me tell you. If I had an enemy and they were staying the night, I’d make them sleep in that room.

Anyway, I’m telling you all this because I think these clocks might be useful for the U.S. government. I can think of a number of important jobs that require people to stay up at night (air traffic controllers, pilots, soldiers), and these clocks could help.

For instance, we could get each air traffic control tower about six of these. There’s no way the air traffic controllers would fall asleep then, as they’d be jarred awake every hour by the dueling sounds of our feathery friends and tons of heavy machinery. Sure, they’d probably hate birds and trains, but hey, we’re not paying them to be ornithologists or engineers.

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

Thanks, and take care.

Brett Ortler

P.S. This is letter #18 to President Obama. I'm writing and sending one a day. See the rest at www.knockoutlit.org/brett.html

Letter to President Obama # 17 | Subject: The Witness Protection Program and Major League Baseball

2009-05-11T19:17:00.000-07:00

Letter to President Obama # 17 | Subject: The Witness Protection Program

Dear President Obama,

I’m writing because I think the witness protection program would make a great reality television show. Before you write me off as some yahoo, let me explain.

First of all, Mr. President, the production costs would be really low, as we wouldn’t need writers. The show would already have written itself! All we’d have to do is read from the case file! And even if there were a writers’ strike; we’d totally have access to strikebreakers!

As for how the show might work, we could start out by introducing the main character and his family, maybe at their Witness Protection Program orientation. (Speaking of, what are those orientations like? Are there nametags, or would that be beside the point? Or is it like the Usual Suspects and everyone has a code name?)

Anyway, the camera would follow the family around as they were getting adjusted to their new lives—we could show Mr. ex-Dillinger delivering a message to the school board for his wife, going to visit the family at Thanksgiving, and so on. But every once in a while we’d juxtapose that with re-enactments of events from his old life—Mr. ex-Dillinger delivering a “message” with a baseball bat behind a restaurant, going to visit “the family” at a rural farmhouse. We could make these as realistic as possible, like the reenactments on America’s Most Wanted and Rescue 911! And if ratings dropped, we could always tip off some of the contestant’s old enemies and drama would naturally ensue. If we were lucky, we might even get a gunfight!

I also have a question about the Witness Protection Program. If you’re accepted into it, what happens if you have debts? I don’t mean gambling debts to a guy named Tony either—what I mean is, does the Witness Protection Program help avoid paying back student loans? If so, great! I’d like to become a member of the program immediately.

Now before you think I’m just trying to game the system, you should know that I do have valuable information about the mafia, and it’s pretty disheartening: Major League Baseball, like everything else, has been infiltrated by the mob. If you don’t believe me, you should look into the starting shortstop for the Cleveland Indians, Jhonny Peralta.

It should be pretty obvious he’s a mobster. (With a name like Jhonny Peralta you know a baseball bat has to be involved in his career plan somehow.) As for the specifics of how he and others are involved, I can’t fill you in now, there’s no time. I’ll explain once I get to the safe house and my student loans (they are direct loans, you already have my last name) are voided.

Thanks and take care,

Brett Ortler

This is letter #17 to President Obama. I'm sending one a day. Thanks for reading.

Letter to President Obama #16 | Subject: Television and Obscenity

2009-05-10T20:27:00.000-07:00

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

2009-05-08T22:17:00.000-07:00

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

2009-05-07T21:09:00.000-07:00

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

2009-05-06T19:37:00.000-07:00

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 #12| Subject: Spy Satellites, Stalkers, and Voyager 1 and 2

2009-05-05T20:34:00.000-07:00

Letter to President Obama #12| Subject: Spy Satellites, Stalkers, and Voyager 1 & 2

Dear President Obama,

I’m writing because I have a few concerns about personal privacy. To be sure, modern technology poses a serious threat to personal privacy, as we live in an era of widespread handheld electronics, vastly strengthened government power, and the proliferation of readily-available personal information on the Internet.

I’m particularly concerned about spy satellites. It’s not the technology that concerns me that much. I mean, sure, we need to keep an eye on other countries; I’m more concerned about the technicians themselves. For instance, what if one of the spy satellite technicians really was into shoes? Really into shoes. Now I know what you’re thinking, sure, our shoe-obsessed spy satellite technician might have stopped that shoe-bomber guy a little sooner, but I doubt it. He was inside most of the time, and we don’t have x-ray spy satellites, do we? If so, we should probably tell doctors, or at least the writers for Grey’s Anatomy and all those doctor-type shows, as that’d make a cool subplot.

And please don’t think I’m making all this foot fetish stalker stuff up. This actually happened to me, Mr. President. My mother gave me a pair of Minnesota Twins socks, and I mentioned them on a YouTube video. Immediately thereafter I got half a dozen comments, the worst of all came from Hot4UrFeet. Do not friend him on Facebook or Myspace, whatever you do.

Of course we can expect that the spy satellites would be used unprofessionally now and again. This probably happens with all military equipment. I’m sure tanks are taken on joyrides and the occasional M-16 is brought home to scare the neighbors from time to time. So I’m pretty sure that certain non-essential areas would always be under a high degree of surveillance—Daytona Beach at Spring Break, New Orleans in February and March—and so on. But that’s to be expected.

What I mean is—giving someone the world’s largest telephoto lens means you’re giving them a lot of power; I wouldn’t give that power to several of my uncles, that’s for sure. Even a benign hobby might hinder our national security. If one of the satellite technicians was a really avid birder, they might spend half a day zooming in on birds. This might make for a great picture (and a great idea for a birding calendar—Birds from Space!), but birds aren’t terrorists, Mr. President.

I’m just concerned that we vet our applicants properly.

In addition, I understand that in the late 1970s, we sent along two golden records on the Voyager 1 and Voyager 2 spacecraft. These records featured pictures, music, and basic information about humans and our solar system, all of which were encoded in a universal, easy-to-understand format that’d be simple for any advanced civilization to access.

In effect, this is the equivalent of sending a mix-tape along with an invitation to come over for snacks at our house. But Mr. President, what if our alien houseguests aren’t omnivorous bipedals like ourselves. What if they are large raptor-like-things that prefer to eat medium-to-large sized mammals (us) or worse, small mammals (our pets)! And what if some of them go by the name of Horus?

Now I don’t think this might happen, but it’s my job to ask the questions nobody’s asking.

Thank you, and take care.

Sincerely,

Brett Ortler

This is letter #12 to President Obama. Brett's writing one a day. And yep, he's sending them.

Letter to President Obama #11 | Subject: Predator Drones and the Microsoft Paperclip Guy

2009-05-04T20:07:00.000-07:00

Letter to President Obama #11 | Subject: Predator Drones and the Microsoft Paperclip Guy

Dear President Obama,

I’ve got something of an odd request for you—I’d like to borrow a Predator Drone for a weekend. Now, don’t worry, I had a lot of remote-controlled cars as a kid, so I’m pretty sure I could learn how to fly it. To back my claim up, you should know that I’m really good at video games with airplanes. Especially Top-Gun for the Nintendo Entertainment System. (I wasn’t very good at Captain Skyhawk for the NES, but that shouldn’t be held against me. That game involved aliens and was pretty hard.)

First off, I know we’re using the Predators a lot, and I’m not asking to use an active-duty Predator. That’d be crazy. Instead, I know we’re building a lot of those things, and before they can be shipped overseas, they have to be declared flight-worthy, right? This is where I can help! I can test the Predator for airworthiness and then let you know how that specific plane panned out.

Of course, to adequately test the Predator to the satisfaction of The Air Force, I’d need the requisite camera gear and I’d especially need working weapons. That last part is very important. But I wouldn’t need a full complement of two Hellfire missiles; I’m pretty sure I can get by with just one. Like I said, I’m pretty good at video games. And when I think about it, I probably don’t even need all the camera gear. If necessary, I’ll just put my digital camera on video mode and tape it onto one of the wings.

Let me explain why I’d like to borrow one of the Drones. As you’re now probably aware, I’ve been writing you letters fairly often—about once a day so far. I use Microsoft Word to write my letters. If you’ve ever used Microsoft Word, you’re probably aware that every time you try to do anything in the program, an “assistant” immediately pops up. This assistant also happens to look like a paperclip. When he pops up, he says, “It looks like you’re writing a letter!” He does this whether you’re writing a letter, a paper, or just typing up a grocery list. He’s apparently obsessed with letters. (Rumor has it he’s an ex postal worker.)

What set me over the edge was that this—the whole time I’ve been writing you letters—clearly identifiable letters that begin with “Dear Mr. President,” our paperclip friend is nowhere to be seen, though this is the same version of the program and everything. This time around, he’s spooked. This makes me think that he’s a coward, probably afraid to talk to you, Mr. President. That makes me like him less, but Mr. President, I’ve hated that paper clip for a long time. I was an English major in college, and we had to write a lot of papers, and that stupid paper clip thought every one of them was a letter.

I’ve often wondered why; maybe he has a long lost lover and he writes all sorts of letters that he can’t send. I mean, we’ve already established that he’s a coward. Given he’s a piece of office equipment (and a minor, dispensable one at that), his “lover” is probably lame anyway—maybe a set of post-it-notes, probably a stapler. All I want to do with the Predator Drone is to put him out of our misery and save us all a little strife. It’d be doing a public service, Mr. President. Opinion polls should tell you that. I’ve conducted an informal opinion poll (involving me, my girlfriend and my cats) and all of us agree—Clippit, the paperclip, has got to go.

We think America would agree. Please let me know what you think, and thanks for your consideration.

Take care,

Brett Ortler

This is letter #11 in a series to President Obama. You can see the rest at www.knockoutlit.org/brett.html

Letter to President Obama #10 | Subject: Spies, the Patriot Act, and the NSA

2009-05-03T21:57:00.000-07:00

Letter to President Obama #10 | Subject: Spies, the Patriot Act, and the NSA

Dear President Obama,

I’m writing because I have a few questions and concerns about the National Security Agency, the Patriot Act, and the espionage world, generally.

First, I’ve been trying to get in touch with the National Security Agency, but I’m having a hard time. This was a little surprising because I’ve been talking on my phone a lot lately and from what I’ve read in the papers, I thought those guys were monitoring everything. At first I was sure they were just busy, but it’s been like a month, and I must have been recorded at least a couple dozen times. Doesn’t the NSA have voice mail? (If not, maybe they should get an answering service.) This seems a little unprofessional on their part, I have to admit. Then again, when I called, I didn’t think to leave a number, as I thought that’d be a little redundant. So maybe it’s my fault.

Anyway, I have a question about the Patriot Act. I understand that under the Patriot Act the government can now keep track of books I check out at the library and purchase at the bookstore. Now I don’t like this idea at all, but that’s not the main reason why I’m writing. I’ll just straight out ask my question: Did the NSA also hire a literary critic?

Let me explain: I recently started going to the new library in town. After every visit, I get an unmarked letter with no return address or identification. I assume these are from the NSA, and judging by the critical response to my selections, I’m assuming you’ve hired a literary critic. Let me just say, Mr. President, that the NSA literary critic is really far off base. I’ve been getting these letters for weeks and the NSA critic keeps suggesting that I read crap—Deepak Chopra, I’m OK, You’re OK, and all kinds of Sean Hannity books.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying I’m currently reading the finest literature. (I must admit that it’s a little embarrassing to admit that the NSA happened upon my library record when both Harry Potter and Twilight were on my account— but it’s not like I’m always reading vampire love stories or books that feature talking hats and children with magic wands.) But the NSA suggestions are worse than what I'm reading already; I mean, Who Moved My Cheese?

And Mr. President, why is the NSA critic always suggesting that I read 1984? Of all the good books to pick, why that one? Is that some sort of ironic joke?

Please let me know what you think about these matters, and thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

Brett Ortler

Letter to President Obama #9 | Subject: NASA, Outer Space, and Constellations

2009-05-02T19:31:00.000-07:00

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 #8 to President Obama | Subject: Superheroes, Cartoons and Foreign Policy

2009-04-30T19:20:00.000-07:00

Letter #8 to President Obama | Subject: Superheroes, Cartoons and Foreign Policy

Dear President Obama,

One of your challenges as our President is to help improve America's image abroad. So far, I think you’ve been doing a pretty good job, but I have a few suggestions that might help our country in this endeavor.

During the last administration there was an assumption that if we exported democracy abroad that the world would see the freedoms inherent in our culture and respect us because of them. But that implies imposing one’s idea of what governance should be like upon another people, and as we’ve seen in the last few years, that stuff can be tricky. So instead of exporting political ideologies or abstract governmental frameworks, I’d suggest we use two of our existing well-known exports to improve our image abroad—superheroes and cartoons.

I suggest we use cartoons for two reasons. First, the government’s got a pretty good record on cartoons. We invented Smokey the Bear, who rocks, though I’d be lying if I said that we’ve haven’t had our share of clunkers. (Remember Bert, the “Duck and Cover” Turtle from that 1951 Federal Civil Defense Administration video?) But even there, Bert was only a little radioactive pizza away from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles!

Secondly, it’s not like we’ll have to invent these characters; they exist already! The Transformers, Superman, He-Man, the Looney Toons—all of these could be used to our national advantage.

For instance, consider the Transformers and our current situation in North Korea. I don’t know about you, but North Korea’s government reminds me a lot of the Decepticons. I mean, every time someone at the U.N. even mentions North Korea, North Korea’s Central News Agency publishes half a dozen rambling, angry press releases. Worse yet, the letters are so intransigent and unyielding it’s easy to think that they were composed by an evil robot. I get halfway through one of these press releases and I’m like, whatever, Megatron.

Consider this excerpt from a recent DPRK press release about North Korea’s recent attempted satellite launch:

Pyongyang, April 26 (KCNA) -- The successful launch of the satellite Kwangmyongsong-2 precisely means the victory of the might of the DPRK's ideology and mental power, will and pluck and self-supporting economy and science and technology.

Huh? I’m pretty sure the DPRK official “translator” is actually Yahoo’s Babelfish software. In any case, the end result is hilarious, and it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch for us to officially label North Korea News Agency as the Decepticons. In turn, we could refer to ourselves as the Autobots, and half of the work would be done for us. I mean, who are you going to support in the end, the Decepticons or the Autobots? It’s not even a choice--no one likes the Decepticons! (Except maybe Dick Cheney. Since his term’s over now, can you tell me, was he a Decepticon? I was always leaning towards yes, but I was never quite sure.)

In addition, not only would this improve our image, this whole endeavor would be marketable and it would seriously make C-SPAN a lot more interesting. As things currently stand, C-SPAN’s just a blur of boring old suits and ties, and the only bit of excitement is a bowtie now and again. But imagine a Senate Subcommittee filled with senators in capes and utility belts and crazy helmets. Now I know what you're going to say--you probably think that that'd be improper or unprofessional, but I don't buy it. There’s not much difference between a cape and a tie anyway. In the end, both are pretty arbitrary and pointless. Capes, at least, would add a little drama to those long, dreary Senate sessions. And they’d add drama, as they'd make escalators a moment of life and death.

And this isn’t just a national idea; each state could adopt or create their own superheroes to improve their image and drive tourism. Minnesota’s been really ahead of the curve on this—we’ve got Paul Bunyan and that guy means big bucks for cities that were smart enough to cash in on him. But why stop at a lumberjack and a silly blue ox? Consider my modest example—Midwestern Man. A resident of the Upper Midwest, he could ride a cow and use specially-hardened wedges of cheese as his shuriken-like main weapon. This would thereby highlight the area dairy industry, and he could be assisted in his good deeds by his fellow superheroes The Iron Range (featuring the iron-ore deposits in MN and MI) and his sidekick, Corn Boy. In fact, I was so excited about this idea I immediately began designing a costume for Midwestern Man. In fact, I’m wearing it as I write this.

I therefore like to encourage you to consider my proposal. If you take my suggestions, I think the world would be a better place.

Sincerely,

Brett Ortler

This is letter #8 to President Obama. Brett's writing (almost) a letter a day, though he skipped yesterday. See www.knockoutlit.org/brett.html for the rest.

Letter to President Obama #7 | Subject: Clowns and The War on Terror

2009-04-28T20:39:00.000-07:00

Dear President Obama,

I’m writing because I have suggestions that might help our country in The War on Terror. Up to this point, much of The War on Terror has dealt with overseas organizations like Al-Qaida, which seek to harm the U.S. at home and abroad, or domestic groups with similar aims.

Nevertheless, one dangerous and terrifying group has faced little scrutiny so far in the War on Terror, and that group unfortunately preys upon children, our most vulnerable citizens—of course, I’m speaking of clowns.

Let’s be clear—clowns are terrifying and children hate them. A recent study indicated that 100 percent of children were afraid of clowns. As a former child, I can attest that clowns are, in fact, terrifying. But that’s only the part of the study that was made public. Privately, that study indicated clowns also hate children and that clowns even hate clowns. Now you’re probably wondering where I’m getting all this inside information, and I’ll tell you, I’m not some armchair observer. I’ve been there—when I was a child, I attended clown college; I was a clown college child soldier.

In one sense, clown college was like any other terrorist organization; it was based upon a cycle of social distrust and self-loathing (this is probably why clowns paint their smiles on). The social network was tight (we all drove in the same, tiny car), and we attempted to strike society’s most vulnerable, at times of expected levity like birthday parties and circuses. When we arrived, children would do anything they could to escape. I remember one time visiting a church carnival and joining in for a game of “The Cake Walk,” in which music plays as you walk on selected tiles; the winner who is left standing on the specified tile when the music stops playing wins a cake. The music stopped playing for a particular game and a small boy was left standing on the winning tile. He was handed his cake, and I walked over, in full clown attire, to congratulate him. He screamed wildly, and in an apparent attempt to distract me and escape, he thrust the uneaten cake into my arms.

It was only then that I recognized the extent of terror that I had just inspired; Mr. President, children do not just give away cake.

Even though that story was terrible, it taught me a valuable lesson—clowns were so scary that they could prevent children from eating fatty foods. That’s why I’m not suggesting we ban clowns. Instead, I’m suggesting we use the terror they elicit to our advantage to prevent childhood obesity. After doing some initial research on this front, I realize that it’s been happening already.

I don’t know which administration forced McDonald’s to choose a clown as its main mascot, but this certainly must have prevented a significant number of cases of childhood obesity. I’d simply like to encourage you to expand upon this existing campaign. In short, I don’t think Ronald McDonald is scary, or prominent, enough. Perhaps if we could get the CDC or the NIH to require all McDonald’s doors to feature giant superimposed images of Ronald McDonald’s face, this would be a start. Of course, we’d need to make him more grotesque. Perhaps we could give him bloody fangs. And those really terrible dark circles under his eyes. And maybe some stubble too.

I’d also suggest updating a few of his friends in McDonaldland. Grimace already has a perfect name, but he looks a little bit too friendly. Maybe we could make him morbidly obese and put him in a wheelbarrow? This might prevent children from eating an extra apple pie. And as much as I love the name of the Hamburglar, what if he stole cute, adorable pets, instead of hamburgers?

Finally, I’d like to suggest updating the National Threat Level; right now, I think things are pretty vague. If there were corresponding stick-figures for each level, perhaps it’d be clearer where we stand. (An example: the “low” ranking would have a smiley face, the “guarded” level could have a stick-figure peering over the fence at his neighbors suspiciously, etc.) This could go all the way up to “Severe” which could feature a stick figure on fire or with bubonic plague or something like that.

In any case, that’s just an idea. Let me know what you think.

Thanks for your attention in these important matters.

Sincerely,

Brett Ortler

Letter to President Obama #7. See the rest at www.knockoutlit.org/brett.html

Letter to President Obama #6 | Subject: Pirates

2009-04-27T21:41:00.000-07:00

Dear President Obama,

I’m writing you with yet another pressing policy concern. I, like many Americans, was enthralled by the whole piracy saga involving Captain Robert Phillips and the Maersk Alabama last week. I’d like to offer my sincere thanks and congratulations to the Navy Seals and sailors who were involved in his rescue. I’m genuinely glad Capt. Phillips is safe.

In addition, given my experience with the strategy of naval warfare, I think I might have some helpful suggestions to help prevent this kind of thing from happening in the future.

First, I’d like to ask the obvious question—why haven’t we sunk their battleship? I mean, I looked in the news for a headline like “Torpedo strike sends pirates’ main vessel to the Davy Jones’s Locker” or something of that sort, but I didn’t find anything at all.

I think this is somewhere I could help. Not to brag, but I’m basically the best Battleship player I know.

And given that I’m assuming that promotions in U.S. Navy are still determined on the basis of success in Battleship, I think it might be helpful if the Navy (or the Naval Academy) were to host a Battleship contest, in order to drum up some new strategies and ways to deal with the pirates. The winner could be declared Admiral and they would be put in charge of the U.S. Fifth Fleet, which, as I understand it, is responsible for dealing with the pirates. (A related question: If I were to win, could you make me an admiral and give me a three-corner hat? If so, great. it’d probably be better if I were want to direct my forces from shore; I get sea sick.)

New naval strategies are one way we can fight the pirates, but like Ron Paul recently suggested, I think we need to go further. I was particularly intrigued by Paul’s recent suggestion that we arm our merchant vessels and send privateers after the pirates. To really discourage piracy, we should go even further-—using examples from 17th century piracy in the Caribbean—-we can assemble a counter-piracy dream team. This vessel and its crew would serve two purposes—first, it would strike fear into the hearts of the pirates and second, it would serve as a great recruiting tool for the Navy.

The first thing we need is a vessel, and I have the perfect ship in mind—to me, no other ship is scarier than the Exxon Valdez.

But of course we’d need a captain, and he’d need to be as scary as possible. Do we happen to have any admirals who are, say, over six and a half feet tall, with a ZZ-top-length beard and thick, long black hair? And if so, do we still have any cannon fuse lying around? (Do we still use that stuff?) If so, we could ask said admiral to wind that cannon fuse into his hair and beard, lighting it on fire before the inevitable boarding of the opposing vessel and voila—instant Blackbeard.

In order to make the crew truly terrifying, I have some other suggestions about crew members too—I don’t know about you, but I’ve always thought that Rob Zombie looks a little like a pirate, and if you’ve seen his movies, you know he’s really, really creepy. In addition, if you could contact Governor Schwarzenegger, I could probably get in touch with the Jesse the Body Ventura, as a friend of a friend knows him. (He was my governor, after all.) That makes three really tough, creepy guys, and given proper plundering and pillaging training, all three would make good pirates. I’d like to make an unorthodox selection for ship’s band, instead of including the standard string ensemble or anything like that, I think we need something a little more terrifying. I think the band Rammstein would a great fit for this project. One reviewer said they wrote “music to invade Poland to”—how’s that for creepy? Even better, they’re German and they reportedly love to set things on fire! Perfect!

Of course, the crew would need the proper uniforms and modern armament—but I’m also convinced that we’d need swords. I remember that the Marines have swords in their commercials; does the Navy have swords? If not, could we borrow a few from the Marines?

Finally, I know recruitment might be an issue for the Navy at this point—and I think our anti-piracy dream team would be a recruitment boon and it could help clear up some negative stereotypes about the Navy. For instance, in high school I thought about going into the Navy to fight pirates, but my guidance counselor steered me away from the idea. In so doing, he mentioned two spooky words—scurvy and eye patches.

I’m not going to lie—scurvy’s a little scary. But I think there’s an easy way around this problem, after reading a little bit about scurvy, I know it’s not an issue for Navy crews these days—so why not run a Navy ad featuring a well-known celebrity, Johnny Depp, say, about Exxon Valdez on the hunt for pirates. And while we’re at it, why not show him with all sorts of Vitamin C sources all around him, and maybe show Johnny drinking a big glass of orange juice or something. This could help clear up that misconception.

As far as eye patches go, now don’t get me wrong—I’m a pretty big fan of them. (I even wore one as a joke to my senior prom—it was on a riverboat.) But I certainly don’t want to wear one all the time, and until I did some research recently, I thought that it was required equipment in the piracy business. To avoid this stigma, perhaps our anti-piracy Navy ad could highlight the Navy’s excellent vision care plan and show lots of smiling (grimacing?) pirate faces in glasses, contacts, those light-to-dark prescription sunglasses and pirates waiting in line at the optometrist, that sort of thing.

If we were to adopt these suggestions, I think our fight against the pirates would go that much better.

Sincerely,

Brett Ortler

Letter #5 to President Obama | Subject: Revision of our National Symbols

2009-04-26T16:13:00.000-07:00

Dear President Obama,

I’ve been thinking about your promise to change the culture of Washington, and I’m with you; I think we need to change how Washington works. But how can we do that if have the same old national symbols? I’d therefore like to propose a few revisions to our national iconography. I’m writing to now to get the first word in, as I’m sure this process, like anything else in Washington, will be inundated with lobbyists, special interests, and all sorts of other folks wanting to make their pitch.

First of all, I don’t think the eagle is the proper symbol of the U.S. I mean, with all due respect to the eagle, isn’t the eagle a bit of a jerk? I’m from Minnesota; every once in a while you’ll hear a story about a hunter out and about in the woods and suddenly an eagle will swoop down and steal the hunter’s hat, or his dog, and fly off with it. Mr. President, that’s theft. More than that, on The Great Seal the eagle is armed—it’s got a whole clawful of arrows! That means our national symbol isn’t just a jerk, it’s an armed jerk. That’s a little like having The Predator as your national symbol. (If we wanted our symbol to be an armed jerk, why not pick Ted Nugent?) Now I know what you’re going to say—I know the eagle has an olive branch in the other claw, but I’d be willing to bet that’s just a bit of avian sleight of hand, it’s probably got a knife bundled in there.

Now I can understand why we picked the eagle, it’s a pretty cool bird and we didn’t have many other options. I mean, as wise and sage as our forefathers were, they weren’t exactly prescient when it came to birds. I mean, Benjamin Franklin wanted the turkey to be the national bird. That would have been ludicrous. I mean, imagine how that would have turned out: all the countries that don’t like would be having Thanksgiving at every protest, and their GDP would probably skyrocket, thanks to all the anti-American turkey and cranberry sales.

Even my home state of Minnesota made a mistake in choosing its state bird. Our state bird is the common loon. I’ll grant you that the loon is an absolutely beautiful bird, but Mr. President, have you ever heard a loon call? Having a loon as your state bird is a little like having a raving, wildly-cackling crazy person as your state bird. Or to use an example from popular culture, it’s a little like having Heath Ledger’s Joker as our state bird; loons make every tent-camping excursion a little like a horror movie. I think that’s why Minnesotans are so stoic, especially about winter—we’re not worried about the cold—we’re just worried the loons are going to come back. Loons are scarier than winter. (Thank goodness loons aren’t armed!)

And what’s with our national motto: E Pluribus Unum? That’s Latin for “out of many, one.” I don’t know about you, but that seems a little creepy to me. It sort of reminds me of The Borg from Star Trek and their line, “Resistance is Futile.” And if you take it literally, it makes it sound like we’re building something, like we’re all Legos or something. I have no problem with that metaphor (I love Legos!), but what we’re building is never specified. Maybe we should finish the thought. Perhaps it could be:

E Pluribus Unum, Unus Nex Astrum (Out of Many, One Castle)

E Pluribus Unum, Unus Moenia (Out of Many, One Death Star)

E Pluribus Unum, Unus Populus (Out of Many, One Nation)

Now granted, I don’t know Latin, so I had to use the Internet to get these translations. So you might want to get them checked first. Anyway, I suggested the first one because it seemed appropriate if we were continuing the Lego brick analogy. I suggested the second one because it’d really make our coinage a lot cooler, albeit a little creepier. And if we wanted to go to the creepy route, we could really amp up the creepiness. Perhaps we could put the national motto in a text bubble (like in cartoons) and have an artist sketch in Rod Serling from the Twilight Zone. This, coupled with the Death Star reference, would make things really spooky. Once the Treasury released these, we could send these coins to our enemies, and I think they’d get the point. And if that didn’t work, we could upgrade the armament for the tough-guy eagle and put him on our coins. We could give him an Uzi, or maybe put him in a tank, with a helmet.

With that said, I don’t think we need to change the national motto altogether; it just needs a little revision. But if we do change it, we should be careful; we don’t want to end up like Wisconsin. Its motto is apparently bibo ergo sum, which is Latin for “I drink, therefore I am.”

In any case, I hope you take these important points into consideration.

Thanks for reading.

Sincerely,

Brett Ortler

This is letter #5 to President Obama; I'm sending one a day. You can see the rest at www.knockoutlit.org/brett.html

Letter to President Obama #4 | Subject: Robotic Maids.

2009-04-25T13:08:00.000-07:00

Dear President Obama,

I’m writing you with yet another pressing policy concern. I was watching a television program called The Jetsons and I was fascinated by many pieces of technology on the show, but one thing in particular caught my eye—the robotic maid. After the show was over, my cat walked out from using the litter box, throwing cat litter all over the place with each step. This meant I had to vacuum. Because of my cats, I have to vacuum about thirty-seven times a day. (If I were I vacuum company manufacturer, I’d send cats to all of my clients. Because if you have a cat, you need a vacuum. It’s a perfect marketing ploy. Or maybe there’s a conspiracy here, maybe vacuum companies are run by cats?)

Anyway, like most Americans, I have a manual vacuum, but its headlight scares the cats and I think my girlfriend’s afraid of it too (I don’t think she likes the noise), so she always insists that I vacuum. So I finally decided to get a robotic maid like on the Jetsons; I called up the local department store and asked them to send me the most advanced robotic maid they had. This seemed to confuse them a bit, but after I insisted that such technology existed, they acquiesced; a week later, there was a small box on my doorstep.

My robotic maid was a lot smaller than I expected, but that didn’t bother me at first. I had been thinking of what to name my robot ever since I called the department store, so I was pretty bummed out when I saw that it already had a name—Roomba. I hadn’t decided on a name yet, but I’d narrowed down the field. I wanted to name my robot after someone I didn’t like, because that’d make ordering the robot around a lot more fun. I had decided to name the robot either Sean Hannity or Bill O’Reilly. I don’t like those guys. (I mean, how much fun would it be to yell, “Hey! Sean Hannity/Bill O’Reilly” go take out the trash! Yackety-Yak! Don’t Talk Back!”) And then the little robot would wheel away, doing your bidding. It’d be great!

So I thought about renaming it, but that didn’t seem fair. I mean, once something has a name, you can’t take that away. (This is why I was so mad about Pluto getting called a “dwarf planet.” I mean, imagine being Pluto, The Planet and having to change all of your IDs, your bank account; I mean, what if Pluto were on some sort of beer-league softball team and its jersey said, “Pluto, the Planet” on the back? Then it’d have to get it changed to “Pluto, the Plutoid.” How embarrassing (and redundant)!

Anyway, to alleviate my disappointment about naming my robot, I decided to dress it up in a maid’s outfit. This seemed appropriate, but it was a lot harder than I thought. I made a black and white costume for it, but it ended up looking more like a round nun than anything else. So I gave up on that, and I told it to start vacuuming. It didn’t move. So I read the instructions, and it turns out I had to use a remote control. This seemed a little archaic, but OK. Then it starts vacuuming, sort of. Actually, it just started driving in circles; I thought it was either drunk or broken. (My uncle was drunk once and then decided to mow the lawn; it looked a little bit like that.)

I called up the department store where I got it, and they said it wasn’t broken, that’s how it works, which I thought was outrageous. After getting nowhere with them, I thought about bringing the Roomba to a doctor; maybe it had vertigo or something. Before doing that, I decided to put myself in the Roomba’s shoes. I decided that if I had lived for who-knows-how-long in a sealed-up box, I’d probably be hungry. So I gave my Roomba a cookie. The transformation was amazing! First, of all, it loves Girl Scout cookies. After it had a snack, it did whatever I told it to! It’d vacuum in any pattern I wanted, even those intricate lawn patterns like you see at the Major League Baseball All-Star Games!

I’m telling you all this because I know the White House probably has a few Roombas and I bet you think yours are broken. They’re not! You just need to feed them cookies! I hope this bit of information helps you keep the White House clean, and I’d encourage you to adopt this technology for other areas with a lot of floor space. Perhaps the Library of Congress?

Thank you for your attention, Mr. President.

Brett Ortler

This is letter #4 to Mr. Obama. I'll be sending a letter a day.

Letter to President Obama #3 | Subject: Horses, The Big Three, and Robots

2009-04-24T14:52:00.000-07:00

Dear President Obama,

I’m writing you with another pressing policy concern—I know GM and Chrysler have been going through a pretty rough stretch lately, and I think I know why.

First, I think the big car companies are going about naming their products all wrong. Generally speaking, I think too many of cars made by the Big Three are named after horses. For instance, consider the Dodge Colt. I mean, really, who names a car after a horse? When I think of what I want in a car, I don’t think of the common features available on many ungulates. (OK, I’ll admit it, the GMC Alpaca does have a nice ring to after it.)

After all, horses don’t have AC, they don’t have one of those cigarette-lighter adapter things, they don’t even have anti-lock-brakes! And I think I speak for the American public when I say that I generally would like my car to have more horsepower than 1, which is the standard amount available on your average horse. I know what you’re going to say—“but Brett, all Dodge Colts have a lot more horsepower than a horse!” I know they do, but the name already has me thinking of Mr. Ed and carrots, not speed and chic design. (For instance, if GM were to name a car “the StupidSlowmobile,” it wouldn’t matter how fast or cool the car actually was, the name would stick.)

I mean, if we’re going to name a car after a horse, then let’s go all out. Let’s amp up the giveaways and offer to give away a cowboy hat and a free year’s worth of oats with every purchase. Maybe a pitchfork, too. And if we could pull a few strings, perhaps we could get a test model of the new car in the running for the Kentucky Derby. This could drum up PR and who knows, it might even win. (But watch out, I’ve heard that the horse Vallenzeri is pretty fast.)

Secondly, I know that robots are an essential part of the automotive assembly line these days, but they also might the cause of some of our problems. Let me explain: I began thinking about this after calling up GM and Chrysler and asking them how much their robots were paid. Their answer astounded me; the robots aren’t paid at all!

From an executive’s point of view, I understand this; the robots probably don’t know any better, so why pay them? But what if someone else (representatives from Honda or Mitsubishi, say) snuck into one of our factories and made our robots a better offer? What if corporate spies bribed our robots with fancy Japanese electronics like the Wii and flat panel TVs? To wit, Mr. President, have you ever considered the possibility that there are robotic traitors in our midst?

Assume this is true for a moment—this would explain the American reputation for shoddy workmanship, and in turn, our flat-lining sales. Clearly we must offer our robots a living (sentient?) wage in order to prevent this problem.

I hope you take time to consider these points; I think if we were to make changes in these areas our automakers would be in better shape.

Take Care,

Brett Ortler

An Open Letter To President Obama About the Minnesota Twins (Letter #1)

2009-04-23T15:34:00.000-07:00

Dear President Obama,

I'm writing you with a pressing policy concern—I'd like to question your policy of supporting the Chicago White Sox to the detriment of the Minnesota Twins.
I think such support is inconsistent with your economic policies. Now don’t get me wrong, I agree wholeheartedly with your handling of the financial crisis; it’s just that in the economic hubbub of the last few months, you’ve made it clear that we should be focusing on “Main Street,” not “Wall Street.”

The Minnesota Twins are Main Street all the way. For instance, we don’t play in some flashy rich stadium; we play in a stadium that looks like a marshmallow. The jumbotron at U.S. Cellular Field has a beer ad right next to it; the jumbotron at the Metrodome? It features an advertisement for sausage.

And the Twins are a small business, if you can call a team with a $65 million dollar payroll run by a billionaire family a “small business.” (And if that’s not Main Street enough for you, check the address of this letter; I actually live on Main Street.) The White Sox? They have a payroll of $95 million—that’s big business; in fact, some of that White Sox money probably goes towards lobbying.

More than that, some of the Minnesota Twins players are actually ‘little guys’; look at Nick Punto, He’s 5’9! We don’t have any of those Matt Thornton White Sox types on our team. Thornton’s 6’6; did you know that according to some sources, Goliath was 6’6? Coincidence? No!

Finally, the Minnesota Twins are more presentable and affable. I’m speaking particularly of Anthony John Pierzynski, who spent a good portion of last season looking like he had selected a peroxide-wielding primate as his hairdresser. (By the way, what is the White House position on peroxide?) And lest I open myself to criticism, yes, A.J. is an ex-Twin, but everyone makes mistakes. I think you’ll agree that Joe Mauer was an upgrade.

For these reasons, I’d like you to encourage you to support the Minnesota Twins, an American League Central Division team that is more in-line with your administration's economic goals and policies.

Sincerely,
Brett Ortler

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

2009-04-23T15:33:00.000-07:00

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.