IT HAD NO SNAPPER
I am writing in response to the posting at exile.ru about help with the new publications. I live in Brooklyn, NY; and being a long time eXile.ru reader, I would like to offer my help to your publication in Buffalo. My background is in IT.
We were going to say that if you really wanted to help, you could send us a picture of your girlfriend's snapper. But since you're in IT, you probably don't have one. So we don't know what to ask you.
THERE IS NO SPELL-CHECKER IN HEAVEN
I stumbled across your eXile article "God Can Suck My Dick" and am saddened to see such a thing. I thought I'd email to let you know that God loves you anyway ... even with such blasphemous thoughts.
It's your choice to turn from Him ... He's there with open arms anytime.
Eternity in hell is a long time, you might want to get things straight (with Him) before you die.
Your article suggests persuing an argument with witnessing Christians to basically annoy them ... witnessing Christians seek you to try and help you, not annoy you.
Just because you decided to believe hell doesn't exist, doesn't make the reality of it go away. With all due respect, maybe you could set aside all of that smart aleck attitude and consider "absolute truth".
It's your choice, though ... eternity is a long time.
Hell is nothing compared to what your wife has to go through every night. Fuck off and die. And please tell your creepy Christian friends to stop writing us. We have a whole new generation of hate-mail writers here in Buffalo to make room for.
NED GAVE US AIDS
Saw the ad @ exile.ru. I'm in Buffalo and have been reading eXile for a year or so--&, in fact, used it as a vestige of freedom of the press in my most recent book (you can see some of my work @ amazon, loompanics.com, et al.). I also frequent strip clubs. What more can you ask? Let me know about your project.
All the best,
Okay, so we called you after we got this letter, and made an arrangement to go meet you at the Anchor Bar. We get there at the appointed time, and--no Ned Beaumont. Fifteen minutes, a half hour, an hour pass. 20 wings later we're sitting there staring at each other, faces covered in wing sauce, like a pair of jilted prom dates. Finally, we got up and left. We were so distraught that.. you know what we did? We drove to East Buffalo, scored three grams of smack, and shot dope all weekend. We're addicts now. It'll be virtually impossible for us to avoid AIDS at this point... And all because of you, Ned. We're looking at twenty years of protease inhibitors because of you. Twenty years of waking up every morning and checking our ankles for Kaposi's sarcoma. You think we need that shit? Fuck you, Ned. Fuck you and your books on amazon.com.
I'M A FAMOUS TROUSER PILOT
Perhaps you remember the long boring tirade on Buffalo politics I sent you a few months ago. My interest has been piqued by your call for Exile readers from Buffalo. I'm a 'respectable citizen' and something of a public figure, as such association with your publishing project, either in Moscow or Buffalo could be damaging to my reputation and professional interests. If your new project is something the larger Buffalo community could appreciate I would be glad to help, even if it isn't I might contribute. Either way I'm curious to know what you're hatching.
Also, I recommend you contact [names prominent homosexual in the Buffalo Arts community] he's a busy guy, but he knows his beat.
So you're a public figure, huh? Sure. And we're Chinese jet pilots. Write us back when you finish freshman year.
A HELPING HAND
i'd be quite interested in getting a better idea of what you're cooking up in buffalo -- even though i'm in NYC, maybe there's something i could do for you...
Yeah, there's something you can do for us. There's this guy in Brooklyn named Dima Zuykov who hasn't been laid in years. Give him a call, take him out for a cheeseburger, and then take him home and fuck his brains out. Then let him take a picture of your snapper, so that he can send it to us. Because right now, he can't send us a picture of anyone's snapper.
GO FORTH AND SUCK
I'm on Long Island, about half an hour from NYC. Can I in any way help the new paper?
Yes, you can. You can go online to www.artvoice.com, subscribe to ArtVoice, and then spread the word in Long Island about the mysteries of bus stop construction. Great tidal waves always start with a ripple. Be brave; be first. You have our support.
THAT'S NOT FUNNY
Heard through the grapevine that you illiterate losers were leaving Russia to come to my home city, of all places. What, is there no place to get back hair treatments in Russia? Did the local hookers there raise their prices to $20? You guys sell yourselves as these debonair sex kings, but I've seen your pictures, and the truth is that you're just a bunch of sad middle-aged guys with receding hairlines. Just like every other guy in Buffalo. Good luck finding girls to be impressed by your blue passports here in the USA.
I was forced to read you guys for my Russia class in college, and I hated you then. Now that I'm out of school and back home, I still hate you. I'm looking forward to seeing you fail here. I'm sure a lot of women around the country feel the same way. Assume the position, dweebs. Get ready for a big dose of reality.
We can't argue with that! Now that's a letter, folks. Pam, call our offices today to claim a free BEAST t-shirt. U Deserve It, girl!
I AM HANDSOME AND YOUR FRIEND
Saw your ad on exile.ru calling for help in Buffalo. I live in Rochester, where I'm temping and don't have a lot to do. Since I'm a guy, I don't have a picture of my snapper, but I do have a picture of what I look like. I'm enclosing it here:
Do you think there might be a place for me at the BEAST? I don't have computer skills, but I am willing to go out to clubs and "hit the town." I've been a fan of eXile for a long time and think I could really help out.
Let me know,
This is a joke, right? You don't really look like that, do you? Get out of here, you nut! Send us your real picture! We're not falling for any of that stuff! Whaddya think, we were born yesterday? Get out of town, U!