- - - -
Just in time for Valentine's Day,
the Guardian in London has
reviewed and raved about
The Secret Language of Sleep.
And, for the rest of the week,
you can buy it for $5!
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[Send your open letters to websubmissions@mcsweeneys.net.] - - - - A N O P E N L E T T E R T O
March 19, 2004 Dear interns: I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for the hard work that you put in this summer. It was a pleasure to meet each one of you, and I sincerely hope that your experiences at our firm were engaging and edifying. I took the opportunity to speak to your group managers at the Summer Roundup this past Thursday, and I am proud to say that their reactions to this group of interns were universally positive. As you know, the selection of summer interns is an intense, year-round process at our firm. Our interns are known for being the brightest of their classes, and the most likely of their peers to succeed in their life-goals. We thank you for not letting us down. Each of you made meaningful contributions to your division. At this point, you may be wondering how I could possibly have any idea what you contributed to your divisions this summer. I must admit that it does seem unlikely that a man who spent most of his time flying back and forth from L.A. and infantilizing his secretary could keep track of a dozen lowly interns. Still, you have to concede that you always suspected that I knew what was going on with you. For instance, do not pretend that when we passed each other in the hallways you did not feel my birdlike stare penetrating you to your soul. Did that stare fail to suggest that I understood all your secrets? That I knew that in an effort to shirk off work for as long as possible part of your daily routine entailed skulking to the bathroom and taking your morning dump on company time? That whenever you needed a binder clip you walked all the way to the supply room and spent fifteen minutes inside, poking through the lunches that people left in the refrigerator? And correct me if I am wrong, but didn't Rick walk in on you once while you were rummaging through a cabinet looking for "something good to steal," as I believe you put it to yourself? But Jesus Christ, he didn't even see you, right? He just grabbed his Post-Its or whatever and turned the lights off with you standing right there. I'm sorry, I shouldn't be so closed-minded. Did your pathetic little gestures of misdirected revenge make you feel better this summer? What usually makes me feel better after a long day at work is a Jack Daniel's and a BMWful of extremely hot women. But whatever floats your boat. Whatever floats your tiny, tiny, shriveled little boat. You know what? Never mind all that. Let's be reasonable for a second. In truth, it is pretty impossible that I could know any of those things. So thank you again for participating in our internship program this summer. I do hope that our paths will cross again in the future. Frankly, I doubt that they will, because I rarely travel on paths, but more frequently in hydrofoils. Do you know what a hydrofoil is? It is a boat that hovers. They have them in Greece. There is no reason for them to hover. A regular boat gets the job done just fine. Ever think about that? Very truly yours,
P.S. You will notice that I did not capitalize "interns" in my salutation. Please take that as both a sign of disrespect and a pointed reminder of my casual illiteracy. Which enrages you more? - - - -
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