“Maury, it has to be said, you are looking pretty good for a man your age. Seriously, for someone born during World War II, you are in good shape, you have a lot of hair, and you seem to have a fair amount of vigor. Maybe there’s something about being around paternity cases day after […]
Author: sherlonya
In an open letter to someone who can imagine being seduced by LBJ,
“I know you’re out there. I know that you can imagine the moment when you see that you’ve caught his eye. I know you’d watch as he decided whether or not to approach. He’d stand too close. You would tell yourself that you’re sweating because it’s hot. You’d know better. I know you’re out there, […]
In an open letter to someone who can imagine being seduced by LBJ,
“I know you’re out there. I know that you can imagine the moment when you see that you’ve caught his eye. I know you’d watch as he decided whether or not to approach. He’d stand too close. You would tell yourself that you’re sweating because it’s hot. You’d know better. I know you’re out there, […]
Like a butternut squash
In an open letter to Robert Caro,
“You are clearly fascinated with Lyndon Johnson. This makes me a bit fascinated with you. When I read about LBJ late at night, I see your name a lot too….”
Like a chocolate chip cookie
Like a strawberry
In an open letter to the bald head of cabbage that lies in wait in the fridge,
“The things I will do to you. You will feel like the star of a Barry White song. There will be creaminess and cheese, which is even better….”
In an open letter to men who wear pants that, uh, accentuate their silhouettes,
“I am no junk-gazer, but some of you are wearing pants these days that make it hard to concentrate. Not in an ooh-and ah way, for the record. No, this is more in a ‘Wait. Was that? I think that was…what is going on here? kind of way.’ It is distracting. I’m just saying if […]
In an open letter to anyone who sees me cardancing,
“I need you to know that dancing and cardancing are two distinct activities. There’s something about the enclosed space of my car that tells my elbows that it is time to party up. They listen. I let them go. There is no rhythm in my car just movement, and freedom and Phil Collins.”