Hello Miss Farrah,
Pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Brian and I was given your letter by a coworker as a means of breaking the monotony of our cubical bound and phone shackled work day. While it’s not uncommon for us to get mail from prisons –in fact it probably accounts for a majority of the letters we receive– those letters are usually requests for catalogs. Yours though is apparently the first concerning the seeking of a pen pal, so I am told. In fact, the subject of your letter was so out of the norm and unexpected that those who read it were quite amused. Unfortunately, no one had any real intention of writing back. I suppose the notion of someone writing from prison, looking for someone to write them in prison was a little too… conceptually abstract.
Like a Keinholz installation, no strings casual sex or Jazzercise.
I realize deriving amusement from such a request must sound vile, but understand up until recently these letters were exclusively from men. So rest assured your letter was quite the welcome respite from the usual burdens of enterprise, regardless what reactions may have followed. Not that these guys are ‘scared’ of the ladies, to be clear, they actually do quite well for themselves in that department of the store -the tastier garments just kind of… jumping out at them off the rack as they pass, if you catch the drift of my allusion- it’s just the prospect of writing an individual -let alone one that’s incarcerated- when we only respond to
mail by fulfilling catalog requests or cyclically redirecting return inquiries and product concerns to anybody else’s desk –a direct explanation for the company’s abysmal customer service ratings, if you ask me (the company’s probably overdue another name change)– is a little awkward.
That or they just… actually wanted to do their job.
Anyway, I just wanted to take a moment to thank you for taking to reach out. I can’t imagine how vulnerable I would feel putting myself in the same position, especially considering -if my coworkers serve as any reliable data sample of the populous mindset- a lot of people probably wouldn’t write back. Not to mention how compromising it would feel sending out a picture of myself.
I wish you the best of luck finding people to correspond with. And should you ever need any second rate, aftermarket hot rod parts, I hope you know whom to reach out to.
Is that the correct who/whom form? I can’t decide if your needing parts is the subject of the sentence and me the object.
Part Sales x1438
You know… you should consider yourself lucky you even found our catalog. I don’t know if it’s what would be considered ‘ironic,’ but catalogs sent to male prisoners, often don’t reach them thanks to pictures of a shift knob formed and fashioned into the caricature of an Anglo woman’s tatted up and topless torso, which is categorically
defined as contraband… or at least a representation of it. I can't tell if she is a W.A.S.P or not, but given time to consider her spiritual affiliation -based on tropes gleamed from network television exclusively- I’m apt to lean toward her being Catholic... it’s probably the rebellious tattoos.
If you refer to pages 29 or 138 (if you have Volume 2) you will see for yourself the knob’s mammary glands are quite… gargantuan and the nipples unrealistically predominate –the domed shape of the areolas specifically; the likes of which I can’t imagine exist besides on a baby bottle, aren’t exactly pragmatically realized/necessary if they do— not that my limited, ‘direct’ observations can really speak to validating the full breadth or authenticity of artistic license infused/taken by the sculptor. Maybe, however, you being in a woman's prison and all, you can verify for me that said characteristics I believe are overblown are in fact adequate representations of a phenomena actually occurring in nature and found in the wild.
As buxom as the knob’s representation of a woman may be, I’m not of the mind to think even so-called ‘breast obsessed’ males would consider it worthy of objectification as… inordinate and unsavory as it is in its realization. Then again, even if the knob was of luscious of form, I’d feel weird just putting my hand on the thing to put my car in gear. As heinous as the piece is though, I think I’d be tempted to purchase one if it had like- literal tufts of armpit hair just as unrealistically pre-
dominate and lumped-on as the breasts are. It’d be like- a comical validation of its existence at that point and thus ridiculously acceptable due to its absurdity; lumped-on breasts with domed areolas or otherwise. Not that I’d like, be so inclined to like- let my mom borrow whatever car it was attached to though, to be clear.
Anyway, I hope you don’t mind, but I decided I wouldn't be hurting anyone using my time between phone calls to write you further. I decided your letter is one of the more interesting things to happen around here and not to pass up what might be an aptly kismet and fascinating exchange.
So you are in prison, huh? That must be quite a drag. Let me try to ask some of the uncomfortable/unrealistic questions you would most likely be asked by people insensitive to your status as an individual entertaining a peculiar kind of freedom.
•Have you ever been beat or shot by a rubber bullet?
•Bar soap or liquid body wash?
(on a rope is so… 80’s.)
•Are you affiliated with any particular group to ensure survival?
(Like Arians, Latinos or Triads? Perhaps the Yakuza or Muslims?
-can’t racistly leave folks out in my gang inclusions- Buddhists?)
Say, would you mind if I referred to you as ‘Mickey?’ Not that ‘Bianca’ isn't a good name, Mickey just has a brighter tone of prison resonance to it. 'Ricki' would also work, but its association with a certain Meryl Streep feature sullies it for me. Are you a fan? I find myself in staunch opposition to her work thanks to the universal praise it draws and an affiliation with greatness I can’t understand ‘thespian work’ on its own warranting. The praise runs so deep it’s likely my even questioning her status as a national treasure borders on unpatriotic. Like I might be looking at Guantanamo time for such trespasses.
I bet she even has a Presidential medal of Freedom.
I suppose I’m just of the mind haughty hero worship is inappropriate. Not that she's bad actress, I’m just averse to whatever rhodium plated standard she’s overly emblazoned. As if a tangible covering could be affixed to non-temporal artforms anyhow. The possibility of Keinholz having ‘literally’ done so notwithstanding.
Perhaps I should explain, not knowing how long you've like- been ‘out of circulation,’ as they say. There’s a movie where Meryl emulates a… Post-Menopausal, unrelatable, rocker Mom yearning to reconnect with children she’s">
Hello Miss Farrah,
Pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Brian and I was given your letter by a coworker as a means of breaking the monotony of our cubical bound and phone shackled work day. While it’s not uncommon for us to get mail from prisons –in fact it probably accounts for a majority of the letters we receive– those letters are usually requests for catalogs. Yours though is apparently the first concerning the seeking of a pen pal, so I am told. In fact, the subject of your letter was so out of the norm and unexpected that those who read it were quite amused. Unfortunately, no one had any real intention of writing back. I suppose the notion of someone writing from prison, lookin...
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