DEAR READERS

So as someone who smeared the Bush Administration in the bygone days when photoshopping people into pornography was still legal, I should have expected the blowback. The proof is in the puddle ladies and germs. The magazine Smearing impulse which I was the major force behind was more than a weird trashy art mag with what would appear to be a big fat grinning Donald Rumsfeld tea bagging a midget inside. It was a gift to all people who hate soft serve fascism before magazines went digital.

100 copies printed by myself and Nickronomicon for a measly $600 in spring 2010. What happened then eh? I gave away about 20 issues and charged ten dollars a piece. Mostly I just gave away copies to the people who thought it was funny and or contributed. What happened to my other 30 copies? I burned them. I found it embarrassing actually and gave up plans for working on a second issue. I told Nickronomicon that I never wanted to speak to him again and I haven’t seen him in thirteen years.

I have heard that there were many more copies made. Hundreds of thousands. I assume by Dick Cheney, but I wasn’t working for or with him. I WAS TRYING TO TELL PEOPLE HE WAS AN EVIL SHIT-LORD AND… Well that was enough for me back then. I got to publish stories that were too fucked up to not laugh at.

Let me be clear though, Mental Slavery, the story about Cheney killing a child in Bangkok was trumpeted by Dick Cheney as his finest work I have heard through back channels. For me, when I wrote it, it was fiction. I have the notebook to prove it. Cheney passed it of as NOT FAKE NEWS. DEFINITELY DID HAPPEN! And what an ego boost that must have been for the man who made off with my mind!

TOO MUCH SECRET GOVERNMENT HORSERADISH POOP TO DISCUSS WITH YA LOONEY TOONS. BUT IT WAS HORROR, NOT PORNO! KILLING AND EATING CHILDREN IS WRONG YOU SERIAL KILLER WORSHIPING SHIT SALESMEN. 

Polly McCann told people I worship cannibal overlords like Cheney. The worst you’ve heard? He’s done worse. Who encouraged him to do it? EVIL POLLY MCCANN. You’ll hear about it in the news one day.

That’s all for now. Expect more from yours truly GONZO JAY MCMURPHY or simply Shen Jay.

Announcement from Captain Filth Pig

Hey there folks, it's your captain Dr. Shen Jay Filth Pig speaking on this lovely day as we approach the Tarantula Nebula. Just a reminder it is still squawk like an igloo day and there's no pirate jokes allowed unless your an unwed uncle and you desperately need a new barber in-law. Oh, sorry that doesn't make sense. Not unwed uncles... Siamese plumbers, that's what I meant.

Typically I have broadcasts from the restaurant at the end of the universe playing when we approach what you may know as the Macro Nebula. Tonight we're for a special treat. Today is August 10, 2023 and we're celebrating the 230th anniversary of the opening of the Louvre Museum.

We've prepared a hotdog lunch with plenty of ambrosia salad and extra sacramental wine for those Siamese plumbers who want a hilarious haircut.

Never met a barber I didn't marry. That's what my horrible ex-wife said! Well what do you expect from an art thief.

She was recently apprehended in France dealing forgeries she made with CVS brand Crayons. The likeness of the Mona Lisa was like nothing I've ever cornflaked. Ten wooden nickles and a handful of walnuts was what she asked for it. A steal if you ask me.

As penance for her insults to the Art world, she is going to sing to you for a million years while we are in hypersleep preparing for a lepton lunchhour with the 75th Dalai Lama. She will sing his favorite television theme songs. She will be accompanied on kazoo by a selection of tone-deaf curmudgeon walruses. Not really, that's just the name of the band. They go by another name on earth: BODHI SEEDS! Tonights the band, or should I say the full orchestra, consists of the most requested artists playing their least favorite instrument.

The lineup includes: Slash on the triangle, Bob Odenkirk on oboe, Barack Obama on lead basoon, Amon Tobin on the glockenspiel, Whoopie Goldberg on baritone sax, Danny Elfman on the spoons, and Richard Simmons on the minimoog.

Enjoy the ride and we'll see you when you wake up in a million years. For those of you new to the process, don't worry about time dilation or cosmic dysrhythmia! Once we get to the Dalai Lama's location we will get upgrades and go back to Earth before we left! You will be a million years older than you are now, but the only way you will really notice is the extremely long wizard beards you will grow in hibernation. They are necessary to breathe the atmosphere where we are going. Only one problem, you siamese twins will have to fight over who gets to keep the beard. Once you talk to the Dalai Lama you will get to switch back and forth. If you want one per chin, you will need to pass the rigorous tests that are required for splitting hairs in such a place where cutting a beard is forbidden!

Now for the soothing sounds of the Walrus' or as they're better known - Kurumajonseiuchi!

Letter to the editor of Sock Puppet Magazine

I am quite pleased with the left footed sock edition you put out over the holidays last year. I have to admit now, despite my former position, that socks for the left feet are far more hilarious than any of the alternatives. That includes not only right footed socks, which unluckily for me I didn't read about until St. Patricks day this year. Also, lefts are more hilarious than toe socks, which my friends did not expect either. OH THE TALES THEY TELL!

It's rare for me to miss a SPM edition for more than a month. So now I am considering writing a letter after reading each edition. That would take up more of my time than I usually allow looking for my right footed socks after I hang them on the clothes line on the roof of my apartment building. I swear birds are stealing them. Sometimes I find them throughout the neighborhood with bottle caps in them. They're mine, monogrammed cleaned and with only bottle caps from DogFish Head brewery beers in them.

Strange, yes?

Have a day!

Sincerely,

Halber Puppet Halber Mensch

Dear Groucho,

Thanks for trying my patience, I hope you enjoyed it. J

waffles around!

Dear Ratings Man,

Next time you need a new vacuum, get someone else to call me. I hate the sound of your voice. Just kidding! Remember the unwed uncles and Siamese plumbers? Still waiting... Happy Ratings day! Jay Hixson

Dear King of Cartoons,

If you ever run into the James Brown, would you bring him to our next party? You can't get anyone into that hot tub without him. Michael got into it with Elvis again. They can't agree who should take the Queen of Hearts to trial this time. I said they should get the Backstreet Boys to do it. That was a month ago and they still won't talk to me. Ced and Steve Harvey took DL Hughley to trial, but they got served. Was that a dream? The dance routines were really good anyway. Next time the Kings argue about who's Mr. Bigg, I'll just play my trump card. No peeking. Let's do a movie night soon. J

Dear Million Dollar Man,

They made a movie about your baby. I think it had a woman in it.

Yesterday was solstice. The day we celebrate Whatever-you-call-it. Thanks for dying so Jesus wouldn’t pull that PR stunt. Your death stopped some of the worst marketing people from being right.

We all have our marketing heroes, at least we used to. The order that protects the theme song of Monday night football insists to this day that they do not exist. My favorite marketing chum could sing the dandruff right out of your hair.

The heroic qualities of marketeers pales in comparison to other do-gooding collectives, like the musketeers or the mousekateers. Still, the way they inspire love of beverages deep within us is far more powerful than that of most groups of product advocates. Stock brokers can’t sing nearly as well.

If someone comes along and says you and your baby have the same name, say thanks. Unless it’s not true, that probably means they just want some woman to be in a movie about your kid so they can sell key chains and t-shirts. Beware the rogue marketeers. For you, that might be a day late and a dollar short.

Merry Something-or-other,

Jay Hixson

Dear Anheiser-Busch,

The beer-butter wars have only begun. I recommend adding Bud Lite Lime® to I can't believe it's not butter® and packing it with a warning: Belief in Limes guarantees a life filled with a pleasant bitterness, please spread responsibly.

"The kids love beer. This we know. Battling with hardening arteries shouldn't stop your pre-teen from putting Milwaukee's Wakey on their pancakes." When I heard that during the station break on Jim Lehr's news minute - I knew what was coming.

Beerup alternatives like Jack Daniel's® Syrup light will be making their way into stores before next Saturnalia. I trust a high gravity beerup from AB will be coming to American waffles and hotcakes sometime this year. Missing the boat like the whole alcoholic Spam® thing we don't talk about anymore is not an option.

Meat alternatives meeting Beer alternatives in a delicious treat, like Cudweiser-pops®, is still considered offensive on earth. Overcoming that obstacle by manufacturing a little consent will be easy if we just start putting the right wheat in the right beers. That's how I like to say - Happy Ratings Day AB!

Hope your season is buttered on both sides.

Happy Whatever-you-call-it,

Jay Hixson

Dear Ratings Man,

Of all the TV lands, America is the most bountiful. This we know. Never before have so many Ratings been made. The sweeps this year weren't just under the rug, they cut a rug. And as someone who doesn't wear one, it just chaps my hide to have to use an expression like that.

I hear NBC got bought by Microsoft again, and not just for a tax write-off this time. Time Warner got bought by AOL for the fifth time this year. These re-mega-mergers are so predictable. Everyone wants to be their own landlord so they can sue themselves for a new washing machine. If your clothes are that dirty just go naked, that's what I say.

For my ratings this year, I'd like my favorite demographics: Unwed teen uncles and siamese plumbers to really come together for peak viewership of the insurance commercial double tap right before station ID at the six o'clock accuweather hootenanny.

After spending six months greeting the season, I really wanted the UTU/SP index to hit a record right before this cold front really came up from the south. We never know how those fronts get so low, it must be seasonal affective disorder - as predictable as it is: It's always a surprise.

Happy Something-or-other,

Jay Hixson

WHAT IS YOUR EARLIEST HUMAN MEMORY?

Dear Tumblrbot,

The earliest human memory I remember is of watching television. We didn't have robots to do that for us in those days. We had to watch every moment ourselves. As a result, we developed strong minds, full of jingles and theme songs.

During the great American soft-drink wars in the 80s, everyone knew exactly how to sing to their beverages. The beer wars took it to the next level.

No one was left out - the ballads and love songs we sang to our carbonated drinks truly inspired the jingle writers of the day. They became ever more bold in their description of the ways in which we should allow products to make us feel.

No one knew the way the products and news teams really felt, until a hero came along. Not that we ever speak his name. Eons of jingle writing wisdom are protected by his order. They swear to uphold the ideals of theme song tenacity, veracity, and perspicacity. That hero's name? Edd Kalehoff.

I dare say no more.

Jay H.

Dear Pilots,

Thanks for keeping an eye on the sun all these years. We were sure it would crash long ago. If we ever find out who left it here, we'll need to return it. I trust one of you is up to the job.

Sincerely,

Jay S. Hixson

Dear Alice,

Welcome back from the other side of the looking glass. I'd like for us to have a talk about your problem of always being the same size.

Magnitude is silly when you see that the nature of perception is as dynamic as your relation to your own imagination. Don't think about that on this side of the mirror.

I'm fond of mushrooms too. Usually, I have to eat them before I see strange talking animals. You can pretend to be a talking animal anyway, no matter what you put in your eggs. I've pretended to be a talking animal for years. 

I heard there was a Tea Party in Washington these days. When will they learn that everyone involved is always mad? You can't have a sane Tea  Party. Not on this side of the mirror.

For cats with detached smiles, I think singing a popular Björk song works best. Just don't throw the cat, that's what I've learned. Throw your voice. Make that cat wonder why it started to sing from behind it's clenched teeth.

For royalty, always assume that there is some strange game in store. If it's chess you must play, call it checkers the whole time and insist you don't know the rules. Allow them to choose all your moves until they defeat themselves. Applaud their cunning.

That's all for now dear, if we ever meet on opposite sides of a mirror I'll be sure to disappear at once and not leave my teeth behind. I hate talking behind my own back.

With love,

Jay H.

Dear Audience,

Please send me letters! I will try to write back. I can’t promise confidentiality, but you can always ask. Not all submissions and letters will be posted or commented on. Please address your letters to me directly. If you would like your correspondence to be private - just ask.

Welcome! Enjoy!

Sincerely,

Jay