Situation Normal. Atmosphere Breathable. Brainstem Injected. Dialogue Engaged.
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Tuesday, August 09, 2005

Dead Letter Shrapnel - Isabel

Newcomers: A couple months ago I began sending prank letters to friends. All the letters are from dead people. So far I've done Kurt Cobain, Bob Marley, Tupac Shakur, Dale Earnhardt, and Pope John Paul II. Today, it's Isabel "Weezy" Sanford from the Jeffersons. She died about a year ago. I haven't seen the show since I was little, so her voice may be way off in this. I don't care. I just did a snappy black mama with some extra vulgarity tossed in for good measure.

This letter is addressed to a girl I don't know, but who lives nearby. She's a friend of an internet friend. I hope it gets sent.


Return Address:
Isabel Sanford
Heaven

Addressee:
Lindsey ********
*** ******* ***
River Grove, IL *****

Dear Lindsey,

Listen up now child. We gotta straighten a few things out right quick before you wreck yo damn life. I'm Isabel mothafuckin' Sanford. Yes'm you heard that right. The actress. I played Weezy on All In The Family and then on my own damn show, the Jeffersons. Yes, MY show. Not Sherman Helmsley's show. That punk. He got a little dick and a big head. Anyhow. I may be dead, but that don't mean I cain't speak up and holler when you runnin' the train off the track.

Why you? Why not? God is one demanding mofo, and now he got our ass sending out Dear Abby type shit from heaven to persuade all you livin' folk to pony up and act like saints. We know that ain't gonna happen, but I gotta look busy, so that's why you're holdin my letter.

Honey, I was the last of seven children. I'm the only one that lived past 12 months old. So I know what a bad mother is. My momma fed me ant paste and sun-dried grass heaps till I was twelve. That's when I learned to steal milk from the grocery and run like hell. I fed my own damn self and got myself a job and a scholarship and a college education. I put myself on the theatre stage by my own damn self. You got tha nerve to be complainin' 'bout yo mama? Sheeit. Stop yellin' at her and get the woman a box a ice cream and you pipe down. You give the lady respect and you'll get it back. Got it? Good.

Not only is yo mama prolly a pretty decent lady, but she married yo daddy and made you, and together they give you a place to sleep. Go on, take it for granted. I'll bust yo ass for it up and down the block. You got a pool and food and prolly your roof don't leak. Spoiled ass white girl. Just because you got all them new neighbors peekin' and you can't tan with your pussy flappin in the breeze no more don't mean life is rough. Cuz I know rough, and that ain't rough. Though I never had to deal with tan lines. I was black.

You live on the corner. That's where all the folk come to jazz. Enjoy that shit. Be good, girl, or I'll haunt yo spoiled ass.

With love and stern whuppins,

Isabel "Weezy" Sanford
1:40 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm

9 Comments:

August 09, 2005 3:05 PM, Blogger Satisfied '75 said...

Hey! this is such a cool idea. Kudos to ya.

 
August 09, 2005 5:50 PM, Blogger OldHorsetailSnake said...

Not only is this a damn good letter, Steve, but this is a damn good letter, if you know what I mean, which I'm sure you do.

 
August 09, 2005 11:07 PM, Blogger Ectoplasm said...

Another postmortem classic BR.

However, I'm begging you for a letter from R. Nixon.

 
August 10, 2005 9:31 AM, Blogger ty bluesmith said...

dang. i never get letters

 
August 10, 2005 3:30 PM, Anonymous sarcastrix said...

I have no idea if you got her voice right or not, but that's a great letter.

 
August 10, 2005 5:05 PM, Blogger Dave Morris said...

Three words. Letter. From. Hoffa.

 
August 10, 2005 7:38 PM, Blogger Kerouaced said...

Dead people write the best letters. I wish I knew dead people like you... Funny shit again...

 
August 10, 2005 10:43 PM, Blogger The Everglades said...

I'm glad you brought these back! So much fun to read. It is still such a novel concept--something I wish I would have thought of.

Blake

 
August 11, 2005 1:24 AM, Blogger Latigo Flint said...

I'd be willing to bet the spirit world knows well your name. They probably send you letters all the time. (You'll be needing infrared goggles of course.)

 

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