Volume 57

Dear commune:

I want a new ten-speed bike, not a Huffy or a kid’s bike or anything, but one with real handle brakes and everything, something glossed up and ready to go. Something really cool looking. If you want to throw in a helmet or some neon-looking biker shorts, all the better, but I’m not holding my breath.

I also wouldn’t mind a bunch of DVD movies and a new DVD player. I realize the one I got for Christmas last year is still pretty new, but something about the way the front panel lights up—I don’t know, kinda faggy. I’m just saying.

I would also like an electric guitar, whatever you pick out should be fine. I don’t know how to play but I know if I got one I would take the time to learn, no matter what my dad says. Everything does not just end up in the garage gathering dust.

If you could bring me this stuff, which is not a lot to ask, I won’t even ask for anything really big and ridiculous, like having all my bills paid and getting a girlfriend who doesn’t sleep around at the drop of a hat. Oh, but I do want to ask for world peace. Partly because I really want it, partly because I feel like a total asshole if I don’t ask for at least one thing not entirely just for me.
I realize you are not Santa Claus, and this letter did not come to you by mistake. I stopped writing to Santa Claus because Christmas came and I ended up with a big lapful of nothing. I like you guys, you seem like the kind of people who can get shit done. You make good on this stuff and I’ll spend 365 days a year worshipping you guys. I’ll also set milk and cookies and a little orange juice with vodka out for you, if you want to come down the chimney.

A.J. Ridenhaus
Great Valley, N.D.


Dear A.J.:

This may surprise you, but we here at the commune were all touched and inspired by your letter, so we decided to do as you asked. Expect us from 9:30 to midnight on Christmas Eve, though we still have to talk someone into making the run to your house—it’s a little out of the way. But what the heck! It’s a damn shame when you do everything you can to change the world and find it’s the same sad-ass place it was when you came into work this time last year. If we can make one person happy, we’ll consider everything squared. And this year, that lucky person is you.

Of course, the bike won’t be quite what you asked for. Ramrod Hurley bent the frame pretty bad, which is why he doesn’t ride it anymore. And we’re not quite sure if Lil Duncan’s biker shorts will fit you right. And DVDs are a little expensive, so we’re substituting some free thousand hours of AOL discs we acquired. But the electric guitar we can do, enough failed attempts to start bands around here have left us with a pile of them. As for world peace—shit, good luck on that. It’s a scientific fact most people are only happy when other people are unhappy, so there’s no way everybody can live in peace and harmony. But we have an old VHS of Woodstock ’94 we’re passing on to you instead. See how much fun it is when people riot and mosh and exploit the hell out of other folks, then tell us if you still think peace is such a groovy thing.

By the way, all the time and money we’re spending on you this year is what we usually put towards buying and delivering Christmas gifts for local orphans. If they happen to call and ask us why Santa didn’t come this year, we’ll just tell them Santa had to cater to a self-absorbed Gen-Y prick this Christmas. Suck on it, Ridenhaus.
the commune

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Editor’s Note: the commune is not responsible for the over-commercialization of Christmas. Nor are we responsible for the real downers who want to over-Jesus it up either. In fact, between those two warring factions it’s no wonder we’re shit out of holiday spirit already.

Volume 56
Dear commune: Long time no see, guys. Since you put up those curtains and stationed that security guard out front. I hate to say it, but I’m starting to feel like I’m not wanted anymore. Used to be you would sit around on your fat asses... (11/24/03)

Volume 55
Dear commune: I had to write after reading the letter from "Brokenhearted Mom in Virginia." My 14-year-old daughter developed an Internet relationship with a now 21-year-old man when she was 10. By the time she was 12, he was drawing her into a... (11/10/03)

Volume 54
Dear commune: Disney is a bunch of sick bastards. Is it true what I herd that "Haikuna Matata" is foreign for "I want some Japanese guy to feel up my tits"? That’s just sick, I don’t even like to think of Japanese guys that way. They’re for... (10/27/03)

Volume 53
Dear commune: Would the commune eat me, if I had a body made of cake? You don’t know that it isn’t. Would the commune lick the frosting off my buttercup? That doesn’t mean you’re gay. Just that you like cake! And who doesn’t like cake?... (10/13/03)