I mentioned in another thread that my sister brought over a box of my dad's files (he died in 1977 after running off with wife #2).
Not to make fun of him when he's not around to defend himself, but I've been finding some real gems in there, and this one is HILARIOUS!
It's an attempt at steamy fiction and is attached to a rejection note from the editors of Esquire:
"Jack was dead now, and I was lying in a hotel room, my thoughts, like crazed ferrets in a lightless labyrinth, distraughtly scurrying up one dead end after another, gathering only forgotten grains of remorse to add to the grotesque load that prostrated me."
In another letter he's complaining to a record company. Dad was a huge audiophile, we always had a really good Hi Fi (component system, none of that console shit for him), and he ordered his vinyl from a specialty shop by mail order.
He got a recording one day that he was really unhappy with and so of course he had to complain about the fact that the pressing was MISSING THE OPENING BAR OF THE CONCERTO.
The record company rep apologized profusely but after sending him two replacement copies with the same flaw, it was obvious that there was nothing to be done until a new pressing could be issued, which they weren't going to do (obviously) just to make my dad happy.
And I always thought he was a dick for ALWAYS sending stuff back at restaurants.... nothing was ever good enough for him, including us apparently.
[This message edited by FaithFool at 12:49 PM, June 28th (Friday)]