Letters to a Friend: Mad in the USA

One reason I published this site was for the friends who’ve always said, “You should write.” Usually, their suggestion follows some weird-ass thing I’ve put into an email exchange that happened to hit the right set of notes and make them giggle. I figured I’d attempt to channel that energy into its own series for anyone out there who might need the occasional funny letter from a friend. Because while a new dawn has come, it’s still pretty dark out there. Enjoy.

Hey Friend!

How’ve you been? My neighbor is stockpiling toilet paper again. I don’t know what that means, but when I told the Mr., he quickly pointed out that they weren’t technically neighbors because the house was two streets over. As if to say we couldn’t possibly live in an area near the kind of people who hoard bathroom tissue.

I think it’s convenient. Now I know who to rob should TP become the new currency. Judge me if you must, but skills like programming and writing will have zero value in a world filled with marauders who trade in Charmin and rubbing alcohol. And gauging by the type of clothing the Mr. packed in our wildfire go-bags, I’m almost sure he plans to trade me for whiskey and a bag of rice.

Since my future career options seem to be limited to pillage planner and harem associate, my sort-of neighbor and his garage full of toilet paper have no idea what’s coming should this end of the world start-up really take off.

Speaking of sh/theads, that “less than a coup, more like a middle aged Mexican Riviera cruise gone wild” was somethin’, wasn’t it? The one guy with the face paint. The other guy who stole the podium.

Howling half-naked in khakis? Huh? A podium? What.

And then that other other guy who sat in a chair with his one foot on a desk. Just the one.

I wasn’t surprised. One could only be surprised if they’d never been to Georgia and met some of the folk from the rural collective who still live in 1885. Last time I was there, one of them asked me if it was “true that y’all out there in Cal-ee-forn-yah allow ‘dem gays to run naked in the streets.” I knew my answer didn’t really matter; the dude asking was just hoping to flex his white trashiness. So I told him yes, hoping he might never visit..

Anyway, sending love to you and yours. And keep an eye on your neighbors. You never know when one of them might be counting your rolls of toliet paper and assessing your security system.



  1. Love everything about this, RG. I did get some giggles and it was very much appreciated. The emotional contrasts in your writings are very special. ❤ SN


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