Tag: letters to the editor

Summer/2020 Letters to the Editor

Previous Issue: #25

Dear Suspect Press,
I want to know if you all want some CBD treats. Also, what’s like your magazine’s manifesto? You can tell me if you like CBD treats, then like you guys can pay to advertise with us. That sound good?

-Chloe

Hey You,
Are you all looking for a trained guard? I see you all live downtown and I know it can be dangerous but I could help protect you all. I’m guessing since you put together an arts magazine that you all are kind of wimpy and could use some protection. Don’t worry, I won’t judge you. I’m 35 and spent the last 25 years learning all sorts of martial arts. I know: Krav Maga, Jujitsu (Brazillian and the asian kind), Karate, Taekwondo, and Kung-Fu. I know how to knock out a 250 lbs dude in 10 seconds flat with a flying drop-kick. I can punch a hole through a 2-inch wood panel and dent a metal car. I’m not exaggerating or joking! I can come by and show you all if you want. Or, if you want me to be more stealthy, I could surprise attack you all when I track you throughout the city. Just let me know. Oh, also I’m a vegetarian.

-Joseph Mikels

Dear Editors,
I have opinions about art, and I’m not sure what to do with them. Are they worth money? I know that art is worth money because I know someone who bought some art. He told me that art is about ideas. If ideas are worth money, then surely ideas about ideas must be worth something? And what about social media? I’m told people have opinions on social media all the time. Why would they spend their time writing all those opinions if they weren’t getting paid? I’ve also heard that time is money. So if I take the time to have opinions, shouldn’t I get some money out of it? I guess what I’m saying is, please tell me what to do with my time and opinions.

-Turner Blanchard, Esq.

Dear Suspect Press,

Oh boy did I really dook my cruisers on this one. I know this is going to sound crazy, but I have accidentally locked myself in my bathroom. I’m really starting to panic here. It all started after I finished doing my business. I tenderly washed my hands and then reached to the doorknob, but when I turned the handle I couldn’t get it to open. Turns out I had just forgotten that I had locked it. That was my first big mistake. So I unlocked it. Then I again tried to open the door but it wouldn’t budge. Oh that’s right I forgot about the padlock. I’m starting to get into some real trouble now. So I got rid of the padlock. Then when I went to open the door again the whole ding dang doorknob just came right out of the door. My palms we’re getting sweaty, and I needed time to think. I realized that maybe I would be able to problem solve a little better if I wasn’t so dang hungry. So I ordered a pizza. I had the delivery guy come around the back of my place. I live on the second floor, so I had to have him frisbee that golden baby right up to me. Worked like a god dang charm. After I ate the pizza I hurled my body at the bathroom door over and over again for about a half an hour, but then my neighbor told me to keep it down. I’m sending this message to you via carrier pigeon. I was lucky that I was able to flag one down. I’m starting to run out of options here, and I’m getting really worried. If you could come over to my place, and maybe try opening the door from the other side that might work? I dunno I’m just spitballing ideas here.

Sincerely,
Jacob Tyler Fairly

PS I am very afraid of the coronavirus.

August 13, 2020
Winter/2020 Letters to the Editor

Previous Issue: #24

Dear Editors,
I wanted to take some time to tell you what a big fan of Philip Tran I am. He is an incredible and humble man and pretty much the coolest person I have ever met. He is just wonderful. I would sincerely consider submitting odes to your magazine on how much I love Philip Tran. He is a real gem. Did I say he’s the coolest person? He is the coolest person. A plus.

Sincerely,
–Not Philip Tran

Dear Madam Speaker:
I write to express my strongest and most powerful protest against the Suspect Press crusade being pursued by the Editors in the House of Denver Representatives. This magazine represents an unprecedented and unconstitutional abuse of power by local queer pagan hipsters, unequaled in nearly two and a half centuries of American literature history.
I have no doubt the American people will hold you and your hipster friends fully responsible in the upcoming year. They will not soon forgive your perversion of justice and abuse of power.
One hundred years from now, when people look back at this magazine, I want them to understand it, and learn from it so that it can never again be read by another racist, homophobic, transphobic, xenophobic, misogynist, bigot President again.

Sincerely yours,
D.J.T.

Dear Suspect Press,
I just wanted to let you know that I really enjoy your mag. My favorite thing to do is to scour it so I can friend your contributors on social media. I’m wondering if you all could make sure to put EVERY ONE of your contributors’ images in the magazine. I mean, eventually, I can find out what they look like when I search their names on social media, but sometimes it takes me a bit to find out who it is exactly. I’m just saying it would save me a lot of time trying to figure out who’s hot or not so I can ask them out or at least stalk them. I mean you all have some really hot contributors, it’s so much better than using all those shallow dating apps. Those people are such fakes. Whereas in your mag, I can totally tell these are really real people making art and shit. Anyways, thanks so much again, and consider what I’m asking.

– Brenden McKenzie

From the editor: We have and NO. Please don’t do this, people. Yes, be excited for our creators creating, but don’t use this magazine in lieu of a dating scheme.

Dear Suspect Press,
This is my friend’s favorite magazine ever, like he fucking loves it—counts down the year in quarters loves it. He’s the best guy ever, so I thought I’d write him a little something something for his birthday to show how much I care and tell you a little bit about your number one fan.
You can bet your bottom dollar there have been a lot of big Dicks in this world, and little ones too. Yeah, there’s been fat ones, skinny ones, white ones, black ones, Jewish ones, Christian ones, old ones, young ones, The list goes on and on, it’s pretty much Dicks for days. Everyone’s wife/husband or girlfriend/boyfriend have had a few Dicks in their lives, some probably more than others. Just the other day my friend Ray’s girlfriend said she was in a room full of Dicks. She literally said, “Dicks were everywhere. ” I imagined them in a circle around her.
There was even some famous Dicks, like Dicks that sang and danced, Dicks that played guitar really well, Dicks that acted and won academy awards. There’s been King Dicks and Dicks that play sports with balls, all sorts of Dicks. At one point, we even let a Dick run the country.
Anyways my point is there are all sorts of Dicks out there; different shapes, sizes, and temperaments. But dearest Suspect Press, my seven-foot, three-hundred and twenty pound friend Richard is by far the biggest and best Dick I know. Happy Birthday big man!

Thanks!
A best friend

Dear Suspect Press,
Digging through a Denver trashcan for some dinner I found your magazine and noticed you also have a publishing house, which is just perfect for me. I wrote a new novel and here’s the pitch. It’s a working title, but for now it’s called We’re in Trouble Now, and it goes like this.
In a place far away from earth there existed two planets, Gotta-lotia (Got-A-Lot-ea) and Diddly (Ain’t got shit). One planet, Gottalotia, had loads of resources; so much that they shared them with the Diddlyans. In fact, over time the Diddlyans asked if they could come help settle Gottalotia, and the Gottalotians said sure! And things were like that for centuries.
Until one day a group of Gottalotians decided they didn’t like Diddlyans anymore, in fact they fucking despised them. Diddlyans caused problems and didn’t pay their taxes, took jobs from Gottalotians, and such. The group called themselves the New Gottalotians and they believed all Diddlyans should be kicked out of Gottalotia and began deporting them. Oddly enough after all the Diddlyans were gone, the New Gottaltians started disliking other Gottalians, and soon enough the planet plunged into civil war. And so the cycle repeated, over and over, generation after generation of death and destruction until eventually Gottalotia was no longer a nice place to live, all of its resources used up. In the end what was left of the population were forced to abandon their war torn planet and move to Diddly, where the recently formed Republic of Diddlyans were waiting.

–Kilgore Trout.

January 22, 2020
Fall/2019 Letters To The Editor

Previous Issue: #23

I am terrified of puppies, can you help me? Whenever I see their fluffy tails wagging, those maniacal eyes wide as they strain against the leash, desperate to sink their sharp-as-glass teeth into my shoelaces, I nearly faint with terror. Ever since that afternoon when I was a boy, when my brother covered me in peanut butter and unleashed three litters of eight week old St Bernards on me, trampling my young body with their furry frames, eighteen tiny tongues feverishly licking me up and down, I’ve been unable to see puppies as anything other than bloodthirsty monsters, not unlike the Alien facehugger or rabid piranhas. I actually like older dogs. Cats, too. And I adore squirrels. Though I’ve recently started dating someone with a new puppy and want to be free of this affliction. Suspect Press, can you help me?

Sincerely,
Pilgrim Billy

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,Editors Dear

Dear Editors,

This is the ghost of David Foster Wallace*, and I wanted to talk to you a bit about the experience of being a ghost*. Being a ghost has reminded me that our experiences are less determined by our search for objectivity*, and more so by our personal, active relationship with the world.

*Author of Infinite Jest**

*The idea of writing about objectivity is kind of an absurd premise in and of itself, as to make a concrete statement in written form, possibly never to be edited, is in itself to deny the ideas of objectivity.

*By ghost*** I do not so much mean a spooky entity in a white sheet, as much as the lingering presence of what once was.

**If you’ve not heard of Infinite Jest, just ask any white dude at a coffee shop about it. They’d love to tell you about how good the first third of it is, and how they are planning to finish reading it after they get through Chuck Klosterman.

***To be a ghost feels as if to be an extra in a movie that no one ever sees. A box of cereal hidden in the back of the freezer section**** of the grocery store, where we all fail to truly connect with the people around us.

****Freezers and refrigeration were built and sold by General Electric, as a freezer runs 24/7 and uses a substantial amount of electricity to run, thus creating a new industry for profit for GE.

I’d love to hear your opinions on the subject.

Thank you*,
David Foster Wallace

*By you, I mean the objective you, though that may be tainted by time, by experience, or by any number of unseen factors that I am not at liberty to have influence over, especially because I am in fact, a ghost now.

Dear Editors,

Excellent choice bringing Brice Maiurro on as your Poetry Editor. He is an incredible and humble man and pretty much the coolest person I have ever met. He is just wonderful. I would sincerely consider submitting odes on how much I love Brice Maiurro to your magazine. He is a real gem. Did I say he’s the coolest person? He is the coolest person. Super good choice. A plus.

Sincerely,
Not Brice Maiurro

Dear Editors,

I was excited to see your story last issue on Rhinoceropolis because finally! The coverage that rhinoceros deserve. They are such beautiful creatures that move with such grace and poise, elegantly splashing around in mud pits and grunting majestically like the dainty, delicate brutes they are. So you can imagine my dismay when I tore open the magazine only to discover that the story in fact had nothing to do with the kings of the floodplains but rather dove into a story of a kitschy, crust-punk warehouse that I assume is filled with skaters ditching school to graffiti some boards. Do what you do best, and stick to animal coverage.

Sincerely,
Ryan O. Ceras

October 28, 2019
#23 Letters to the Editor

Previous Issue: #22

Dear editors of Suspect Press,

I am very frustrated that you refuse to publish or even acknowledge my essay series “Straight, White Men Are The Real Persecuted Minority.” Your failure to recognize my right to exist only reinforces my conviction that males without color (MWC) are the true victims of our time. I moved to Denver from Boston six months ago, and this city has been wildly unaccommodating to my needs as a MWC. My LoHi condo re-fuses to grant me extra parking spaces for my ‘65 Jaguar or my stretch Humvee, forcing me to sell them at below-market value! For years I’ve treated my PTSD from being a MWC with the aromatherapy of fresh, Maine lobster with European white truffle butter, but your discriminatory grocery stores do not even carry these items, forcing me to have them airlifted by private jet daily. I recently attended an ACLU benefit concert for abortion assistance programs, and was repeatedly laughed at when suggesting MWCs should have their own benefit concert. Additionally, no one from the ACLU responded to my request that all attendees of this concert be reminded to please not make eye-contact with me at any point during the evening, as I find this threatening to my value as a man. If you continue to ignore me and my fellow MWCs, we will be forced to declare Suspect Press a publication that does not respect the plight of straight, white men in today’s anti-male society.

Dear Suspect Press,

I’m afraid I’ve lost all my marbles. I thought they were under the couch, but I looked there. Nothing. Then, I thought they may be around the entrance of the Walgreens on Delancey where I could last feel them bulging in my pocket and shifting around. Not there. I was told by an old woman in a dream that they just might be near the truck stop where I used to look at myself in the superb fluorescent lighting found in the bathroom so I could check for bugs. Nope, not there. I was wondering if I could take out a spread for my dear lost marbles before I go fishing tomorrow. It’s the second mishap since I blew all my fuses. I was working through something on my 1970s IBM cabinet that I bought since I caught wind of the NSA peeping through the fancy modern ones. Now if I can only get more duct tape for the outlets that I KNOW my neighbors are watching me through.

–Scared and Scarred in Scranton

Dear Editors,

The lacquer of newness began to fade upon my best work. I became torn between choosing the destruction of what was left and starting anew or more easily dressing up old material with an untimely veneer. The foundation of all that I had made, the years of meticulous and careful perfection was undoubtedly solid, but even the best efforts are undone by time. The conundrum is whether something is better that has been worn and destroyed by use, or preserved in all its original glory–static and unchanged. You all are I assume, some of the few people that could appreciate how my objectively mundane but internally monumental dilemma could weigh on a soul. I say I assume so because of your publication’s seeming knowledge and insight into the depths of the human heart and mind. So, more plainly, should I tear up my porch and build a new one, or should I just sand it down and revarnish? Thank you for your answer ahead of time.

–Michael Danberry

Dear Suspect Press,

Imagine my surprise when I opened up your magazine only to discover that there was absolutely nothing related to information in regards to America’s suspected criminals but had instead a bunch of angry poems and questionable comics. So here I am, writing a letter to you editors to ask what is up with the name? I get that you probably had to throw the word “press” in there in hopes that people would realize you guys were actually a semi-legit magazine instead of a bunch of random crap thrown together- but why suspect press? Is it like to say “Hey everyone, you should suspect there to be some sort of press in here!!” kind of thing? Was that just to push the idea across that you guys are just as real as a magazine like Vogue or Natural Geographic? Honestly, I’d change your company’s name if you hope to make it out into the real world. I am extremely disappointed.

–Danny McLane

July 1, 2019