Being facially flawless, an Adonis in the body and utterly hilarious when I intend to be (and sometimes when I don't), I have a great many admirers from all of the genders. And on a day like today, when romance is in the air like pages from a discarded newspaper, these admirers tend to send me their declarations of love, romantic admiration and lustful intent.
Indeed, such is the weight of the cards that cascade through my letterbox on February 14 that I am forced to stop my cat from sleeping in his favourite spot by the front door, lest he drowns in the swathes of Valentine’s Day mail.
This year is no different, and I thought I would share and review the many wonderful letters and cards that I received today.
First off, a beautifully written letter came all the way from an anonymous sender in Britain. In honeyed words and sweet, sweet verses, the person who wrote the letter conveyed their love for me with such poetic grace that I was almost moved to tears. Phrases such as “previous months’ payments have gone unpaid,” “collection agency” and “failure to pay will result in legal action” brought back memories of a more innocent time, running through wheat fields and playing by a lake. To whoever sent me this letter, I will certainly think fondly of them in the future, even if I don’t take up their offer to “call and discuss [my] borrowing arrangements as soon as possible,” as they so sexily ask.
Picking another Valentine arrival at random, I find a melodic and wondrous affirmation of someone’s desire for my booty. With a photograph of a slim and attractive woman on the front (is it too much to think this may be the sender?), the interior has a dulcet piece of romantic poetry, written by a hand no doubt angelic and tender. “Join Cavendish Avenue Gym/Save 15% on membership fees before March,” it begins, and my heart melts into blissful ardour.
But not all the mail I received today was as romantic and moving as these last two. One attempt at visual poetry, in my opinion, crossed the boundaries between good and bad taste, sinking into the pit of perversion and indecency. The letter, full of pictures of food and household products, was no doubt trying to kindle feelings of desire and lust within me, but this 8-page piece of filth did the opposite. Even the text - “25 cents off” this and “buy two get one free” that – was nothing if not crude.
But finally, one letter stands out above all the others. The beauty, strength of feeling and romance contained within it could in my mind be seen to equal anything written by Shakespeare, the romantic poets or even Terence Trent D’Arby. “Dear Imaginary Reviewer,” it begins, “thank you for your interest in our magazine.” Ah, I shudder to copy those words down myself! It goes on: “But we regret to inform you that your piece entitled ‘6 People Who Changed the Way We Look at Canaries’ has been deemed unfit for publication in Fortune Magazine. Good luck with your future endeavours.” Ah, Graham Belevedere, commissioning editor of Fortune Magazine, you saucy minx! I shall hold your letter close to my heart as I lie in my boudoir tonight, thinking of the sweet love that you have conveyed to me in this missive!
And who knows, Graham, who knows? Maybe one day we shall meet, and then we shall see if the love you make is as beautiful as the love you commit to paper.
The Imaginary Reviewer’s Valentine’s Cards have been donated to the British Museum for posterity. They can be viewed in the large blue bins outside the back of the building until Tuesday, when the recycling vans come.
Indeed, such is the weight of the cards that cascade through my letterbox on February 14 that I am forced to stop my cat from sleeping in his favourite spot by the front door, lest he drowns in the swathes of Valentine’s Day mail.
This year is no different, and I thought I would share and review the many wonderful letters and cards that I received today.
First off, a beautifully written letter came all the way from an anonymous sender in Britain. In honeyed words and sweet, sweet verses, the person who wrote the letter conveyed their love for me with such poetic grace that I was almost moved to tears. Phrases such as “previous months’ payments have gone unpaid,” “collection agency” and “failure to pay will result in legal action” brought back memories of a more innocent time, running through wheat fields and playing by a lake. To whoever sent me this letter, I will certainly think fondly of them in the future, even if I don’t take up their offer to “call and discuss [my] borrowing arrangements as soon as possible,” as they so sexily ask.
Picking another Valentine arrival at random, I find a melodic and wondrous affirmation of someone’s desire for my booty. With a photograph of a slim and attractive woman on the front (is it too much to think this may be the sender?), the interior has a dulcet piece of romantic poetry, written by a hand no doubt angelic and tender. “Join Cavendish Avenue Gym/Save 15% on membership fees before March,” it begins, and my heart melts into blissful ardour.
But not all the mail I received today was as romantic and moving as these last two. One attempt at visual poetry, in my opinion, crossed the boundaries between good and bad taste, sinking into the pit of perversion and indecency. The letter, full of pictures of food and household products, was no doubt trying to kindle feelings of desire and lust within me, but this 8-page piece of filth did the opposite. Even the text - “25 cents off” this and “buy two get one free” that – was nothing if not crude.
But finally, one letter stands out above all the others. The beauty, strength of feeling and romance contained within it could in my mind be seen to equal anything written by Shakespeare, the romantic poets or even Terence Trent D’Arby. “Dear Imaginary Reviewer,” it begins, “thank you for your interest in our magazine.” Ah, I shudder to copy those words down myself! It goes on: “But we regret to inform you that your piece entitled ‘6 People Who Changed the Way We Look at Canaries’ has been deemed unfit for publication in Fortune Magazine. Good luck with your future endeavours.” Ah, Graham Belevedere, commissioning editor of Fortune Magazine, you saucy minx! I shall hold your letter close to my heart as I lie in my boudoir tonight, thinking of the sweet love that you have conveyed to me in this missive!
And who knows, Graham, who knows? Maybe one day we shall meet, and then we shall see if the love you make is as beautiful as the love you commit to paper.
The Imaginary Reviewer’s Valentine’s Cards have been donated to the British Museum for posterity. They can be viewed in the large blue bins outside the back of the building until Tuesday, when the recycling vans come.
10 comments:
My favourite Valetines mailing of all time dates back to the late 90's when someone was so utterly smitten with me that they sent me a photo of 100's of cds, and asked me to pick 8 for only a penny. Even more alluring was the promise of only a "limited commitment"if I wasn't satisfied, complete with the promise of more cds to come on a monthly basis. The height of romance indeed.
I <3 u.
Being a miserable stuffed toy kitty, I have never receive a valentine's day card. I once found a used tissue, but apparently that doesn't count.
what did you get for President's Day -- that counts too
I always have credit card companies wooing me with their sweet talk.
WW: My goodness, that's so romantic it's almost scandalous! [True story time: I used to be in one of those clubs where they send you monthly CDs and you have to send them back within a certain time; I kept hold of one for too long, past the due date, and when they phoned to see why I hadn't sent it back yet I adopted a posh accent and told them I'd been on a month-long safari hunt in Africa]
Amy: Many thanks!
Tabitha: It counts if you want it to! Welcome to all kitties!
Dcap: Here in Ontario we celebrated Family Day, which I think is a little premature. Two days after Valentines? Surely Family Day should be nine months after Valentines!
Am I right, people? Am I right? You know I'm right.
Suze: Yeah, they're a bunch of harlots all right, with their "17% APR" pillow talk. Oooh, yeah.
My heart melted into blissful ardour just reading your words...
Thanks for the hysterical almost-pee-in-my-pants-inducing laugh!
I love you more.
You know Graham Belvedere is a manho anyway.
The valentines were super sexy though, bro. I think we might have the same suitors. Except I also got one from my ma. It would have been a sweet gesture but seeing my ma in lace lingerie isn't really my thang. I'm kidding. She was butt nekkid and holding a rose.
I'M KIDDING. Maybe.
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