TomFlannery.com

(a letter to my friend Mike Stevens….of “On the Pennsylvania Road” fame)

Stevens,

A brief explanation for this letter. For months I’ve been trying to bypass the vicious security detail at your fortified compound in the Abington’s. Obviously to no avail. What do you feed those guys anyway? Not a single neck among them. They make the Blackwater mercenaries look like Girl Scouts.

Anyway, I figure the US postal service could use the business these days. In a year they’ll be a private business run by contractors from Istanbul, so I plan to do my duty until then. As you know I am a patriot.

Our somewhat regular state of the union meetings seemed to die on the vine once Borders in Dickson City went under. I think we both went into mourning. But it’s time to get back on the horse again. We face many pressing problems, and I can’t solve them all on my own. You represent the last gasp of civil normalcy amongst my coterie of strange acquaintances, and as such I’m counting on you. You are Ebenezer Scrooge and Bob Cratchit all rolled up in one. No mean feat that eh?

I believe our nation is surely doomed. You seem to be the only person who can convince me otherwise. While it’s true that once I’m out of earshot of your convincing verbiage my doubts return violently, I do appreciate the short respites you provide.

I’m paraphrasing here, but the gist of our conversations is this…

Me: The fear is everywhere. We are surrounded on all sides by monumental dumbness. A current map of red/blue states laid side by side with a 1861 secession map looks like photocopies of each other. We are cursed. We are a banana republic with too many cable tv stations. The horror! The horror!

You: Nonsense. I just spent a lovely day with this 84 year old war widow who lives in a house deep in the woods….a sturdy home made with old Schlitz cans. We are stronger than ever lad! Now away with your gibberish. I have a meeting with a man who has been in a tree since Agnew resigned. He’s refusing to come down until Pat Buchanan grants him an audience. And this guy lives in Jermyn! Tell that story in 90 seconds you punk!

Such meetings really put the zap on my head. Your relentless optimism is a wonder to me. Sure, at times I think you may have jumped the shark….perhaps too much time carousing with Uncle Ted during the glory days? But you remain a modern marvel. The only officially “retired” man who works 59 hours a week….with a constant smile.

I hate that you love your job, because it reminds me of how much I hate mine. You are dastardly that way Stevens.

But enough of all that. It’s time to get your hands dirty Stevens. I won’t allow you to wallow in your own fame. It’s for your own good. You must hit the ground running and never look into the light.

You’re welcome.

The next 2 years will be fiendish. I would suggest stocking up on bullets and canned goods. They are coming for us and there are lots of places to hide the bodies. For God’s sake man Detroit is empty! You can buy a house there with your smile. Plans are being made for all scenarios. Even the zombies will be crushed with a huge frontal assault. And tell me. What did the zombies ever do to you? I’ll take zombies over just about any politician I know.

We’re all in the crossfire Stevens. We must bob and weave like Ali in his prime…..perhaps some rope-a-dope so the bastards punch themselves out. Like George Foreman did in Zaire. I was 9 years old and I still remember it. You must have been..what…about 50 then?

Anyway, that’s it for now. The weather is perfect for a baseball game so I am off to the stadium. I shall cheer on the hometown RailRiders while sipping a $7 Pepsi. Ain’t that America for me and you?

I trust you are well. I can’t turn on the wretched TV without hearing you. That can only mean business is booming.

Write soon.  And please send lawyers, guns, and money.

In a bit.

–tf