To Whom It May Concern

Dear Sir or Madam, I have been a proud user of Ivory soap ever since I was a young girl. It was what my mother used, and it was what her mother used before that. I have two daughters, but goodness only knows what fancy soaps and cleansers they use. It took up an entire closet when they were teenagers, and I doubt they've narrowed it down much since then. That's the problem with young women today, they think they need to spend a fortune when all they need is one simple bar of Ivory. Which is why I had quite a shock to discover that the Ivory I grew up with would now be soiled with vulgar fragrances — the supposed "light" scents of aloe and lavender. The entire point of Ivory is the pure, unblemished clean that you feel after using it. If I wanted to smell like a whore, I would douse myself in cheap perfume, splash gin on my face and sit around all day eating cheese fries. When I walk down the street, I would rather not have passers-by think that I am on my way to take my "turn" at the "cathouse." You have lost a life-long customer. Good day.

Miriam Spence Oakland, CA Dear Ms. Spence,

Ivory is still available in its original, unscented variety. Ask your retailer for Ivory Classic.

Sincerely, Procter & Gamble

P.S. - Cheese fries?



Dear Whirlpool,

Please consider this letter confidential. I have an idea for a new product that I would like to share with you, one that has a high potential for profitability. Though I do not currently have a working prototype, I have done extensive market research among my friends and coworkers. This survey base was pre-screened by me not to include any dipshits or losers, so I know for a fact that these are high quality opinions from the smartest and best people I know or otherwise hang out with. Of these individuals, 66.6% thought this new product was a quality idea, and an equal percentile said that they would pay money to have one in their home or place of life. I am coming to you first with this idea, and offering you non-binding right of first refusal, because of your reputation as a top-tier maker of items. Some of my friends make serious bank, and they all have Whirlpool applications [sic]. Allow me now to present the idea, which you are sure to seize upon. It is a toaster that makes ice. No doubt you, like me, have often been toasting bread items for breakfast or for use with a sandwich, only to discover that you also need ice for your beverage. This new product, the Ice-ster, would solve that problem. Indeed, it is easy to picture one in every kitchen in America. 50% of all sales money would be yours to keep. I look forward to awaiting your call.

Victor Redding Indianapolis, IN

Dear Mr. Redding,

We'll look into it.

Sincerely, Whirlpool Corporation



Dear nice ladies and men and other person,

I flew on your airplane and it went in the air! We flew very high. I flew with my mom and my dad, and we sat in the middle of the plane because there were three of us. I liked it when the plane went really fast and started to fly off the ground, and also I liked it when we watched "Marley & Me." Can you fly to the moon? I am 4 and almost will be 5. Everyone on the plane was very nice. We went to Feenix [sic], which is in Arzona [sic], and went to a museum there to see an archaeopteryx [sic..?]. My Aunt Helen lives there, with my cousins Nicky and Charlie. They have been flying on planes lots of times to see Uncle Nick, and they say it's no big deal. But I think it's great! I want to be a flying captain when I grow up. May I have a model plane, please???

Tommy Providence, RI

Dear Tommy,

Thanks so much for flying United! We are honored to have hosted your first flight, and hope to see you and your family again soon. But no, you may not.

Sincerely, United Airlines



To all the fine folks at Johnson & Johnson,

I wanted to share with you an example of what a difference ChapStick makes. First of all, I should mention that I always carry a tube of ChapStick. I keep one in the pockets of all my jackets and coats, so that I never get caught without it when the weather changes. In fact, my friends all joke about how I'm addicted — guilty as charged! Anyway, I was driving to work last week when I hit a bad patch of traffic. Figuring I could make better time if went around, I ditched the highway and took a back road. Andrew W.K.'s "Party Hard" came up on my iPod mix, and that song always gets me pumped so I cranked it. Imagine my surprise when a deer darted in front of the car! I jammed on the brakes and swerved off the road. There was a bang and a crunch. I knew I'd hit something, and the feeling was just awful. But when I looked around, there was no deer in sight. With the car idling in the dirt, I took a deep breath, and thought, "You know what this calls for right here? Some ChapStick." Disaster! No ChapStick! It must have fallen out of my pocket before I got in the car! This was definitely not turning out to be a good day. Still shaken, I put the car in gear and eased back toward the road. There was an odd dragging sound. Just as I was about to pull onto the pavement, a figure lurched to his feet behind me. I hadn't hit a deer, I'd hit a person! And boy, was he pissed! I floored it, but had hardly made it twenty yards before he drew a gun and shot out my right rear tire. Another shot went straight through the rear window and windshield. With the tire out, I was a sitting duck. I cut back off the road, letting it roll toward the trees, and dove out the passenger side door. Two more shots impacted the branches around me as I made a mad dash into the thickest part of the woods. How long I was running, I can't say. It felt like hours. My legs ached and my lungs were screaming. "Pretty long way from your varsity cross-country days, huh buddy?" I chuckled to myself. There was a crevice where two boulders met, so I took cover and rested. My coat lay useless in the car. The shivering started soon after I stopped running, and no matter how tightly I curled into a ball, I couldn't get warm. Adrenaline leaked from my system. My eyes grew heavy, and sleep came. When I burst awake, it was night. The woods were alive with sound, but even through that sonic blanket I could hear deliberate footsteps. It was him, I was sure of it. From my vantage point I watched him pass, no more than a silhouette holding a gun. I knew he would never stop hunting me. There was only one option: I had to build a trap. Once he was safely by, I began searching for a suitable log on the forest floor. Using my keys, I sharpened the log's branches into deadly spikes, then hoisted it up into the boughs with vines. With the trap set, I gulped as much air as I could, and bellowed, "COME GET ME, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" I could hear him crashing through the brush, barreling towards me in all his rage. Something in my mouth tasted bitter and metallic. As he burst through a hedge and took aim, I loosed my vine. The log struck him chest-high, impaling him in a dozen places. The gruesome device held him upright, so that I could see his face for the first time. He looked average, he looked like anyone. Truth be told, he looked like me. It took most of the day to walk back to the road, as the cold seeped through my bones. My nose ran like you wouldn't believe, and without any tissues I could only wipe it with my hand until it was raw. By the time I stumbled back to the car, the sun was setting again. When I swung the door open, the interior light showed me the best gift I have ever received. It was my ChapStick! It had fallen out in the car and was sitting there the whole freaking time. Unbelievable. Maybe it was the fatigue, maybe it was the fact that I hadn't eaten in 36 hours, maybe it was the rush of killing a man for the very first time, but I tell you, genius came to me in that moment. I pulled the cap off that ChapStick, and applied it directly to my nostrils. How have I never thought to do that before?? My nose felt so much better! I'll never dread having a cold again!

Scott Pinkerton Bangor, ME

Dear Mr. Pinkerton,

ChapStick is produced by Wyeth Consumer Healthcare, not us.

Sincerely, Johnson & Johnson