Letter Day 13: The Umbrage of Saint Germaine

March 26, 2007


I woke up this morning in dumpster full of stained glass and renaissance etchings. My mouth tasted of Mercury, Gin, and what I hope was my own blood. Best case scenario: I was up all night robbing art museums. Worst case scenario: I finally got that time couch working and went back to settle some scores in old Venice. Either way I’m feeling a little out of sorts and running dangerously low on Papal indulgences… thus I need a letter day cleansing. Hit it two times, letter man.

 Man you guys seem to have pretty strong opinions and a wide base of knowledge. Are you secretly some think tank that uses a seemingly innocuous site as means to spread a partisan agendas view to the Interweb?

Slim Gullet

Nowheresville, Obliva

 I find my strong opinions are founded more in my indifference to literal truth, as opposed to some great accretion of it. Beats Entropy exists in parallel rhetorical universe where the strength of an argument is directly proportional to its wry cleverness. If we made someone laugh or feel bad about themselves, then our position was unquestionable the correct one. As for our partisanship: we are not even on each others side, let alone pulling for some abstract third party.

 I’m also a little offended at our site being referred to as “innocuous”. Whos office do you need to fire bomb to get a little electro street cred around these parts.


I’m at work right now and so drunk I can’t feel my hand. I just keep slapping my face and listening to my ears ring like some sonic betrayer. I tried to tell my boss that I wanted to go and wound up telling the janitor I would go halfsies on a Dominican  time share condo with him. You’re pretty unprofessional, how do I navigate this delicate situation enough to not get fired.


Leftwise on the Downside, 5th floor.

 First thing spurge: you need to keep drinking. The only way out of a bender this deep is to push on through to the other side. You need to sit down right now and start mixing equal parts old coffee, whatever booze you’re drinking, dish soap, and liquid paper. Once you get that stirred up huff it for about ten minutes, then suck it back in one pull.

 That should settle you enough that you can complete the next step: weave yourself a restorative cocoon out of shredded paper, plastic bags, and glue stick resin. You want this cocoon to be about a half inch thick and large enough contain your entirety. I suggest locating it under a huge flap of tree bark… or barring that, behind the break room fridge. By the time you wake from your chrysalis you should be chipper and highly productive.


Is your name really “A.J. Valliant”? That sounds pretty goddamn fake, and I find it unlikely anyone of voting age could be dumb enough to write all that shit under there own name. On the off chance you are stupid enough put your real name and unflattering pictures of yourself all over the internet, might I suggest…getting a fucking pen name and a life.

Kevin Willis,

Cambridge, MA 

   Yes, my name actually is A.J. Valliant [1]. More importantly, A.J. Valliant is who I am. It’s taken me thirty years to create this idea of myself, deserving or otherwise. It’s only been in the past couple years that I’ve begun to get a sense and appreciation for it; have some persistence of internal recognition. Why then, when given an avenue to connect with a broad spectrum of people, would I push all that aside and play some two dimensional character? 

 It’s hard enough to convey our personalities without impediment; every layer you put up makes it that much more likely anything you put out will read false and meaningless…be false and meaningless. We spend our whole lives anonymous, redacting inconvenient parts to avoid stress and discover. Identity is just memory and tendency: you lose the habit, you lose the history.

So yes, having my information out the world could cause some problems. I can live with that. The alternative is I embrace little acts of cowardice to shield myself from potential annoyance. Hide who I am, dulling my voice and impact, because I’m afraid someone might be mean me. Thats a punk move, Kevin, I can’t roll like that. This way I’m directly accountable for what I say, and who I am…if someone wants to take issue with it then I’ll deal with the consequences.                       

  Even if someone does try and get malicious, my life is not good enough to ruin. I don’t have a credit card, rarely keep any money in my bank account, am indifferent about my employment, and have questionable standing in the eyes of several law enforcement agencies to begin with. You need to reach a certain height before you can really be brought low..so, I’m pretty safe. Lack of ambition=1, Internet Jerks=0.

The author in question: note the Batman Villianesque jaw. 



[1] Technically it’s Allan Jason George Valliant


16 Responses to “Letter Day 13: The Umbrage of Saint Germaine”

  1. max Says:

    Bruce Campbell ran over Kevin’s foot at a mall and now he has it in for guys with chins. That is not your fault Valliant buck up little camper.

  2. NotMike Says:

    From my vast collection of empirical knowledge: You’ll never meet a Kevin that don’t deserve a whoopin’.

  3. “You’ll never meet a Kevin that don’t deserve a whoopin’”

    True that my friend, punching a Kevin is like conquering France: morally justified and an almost physiological necessity.

    Also universally in need of punching, men named:

    Jesse/Jessie/Jessy. Just so’s they understand it’s a man’s world and they better get on the bus, or get off to the side of the road.

    Zack: Because they think their so fucking cool, when in truth they just have a stupid name.

    Jake: I actually think that’s an awesome name and am bitter I got something as bland as Allan.

    A man with my swarthy 5 o’clock shadow and rugged features could take a name like Jake far…maybe have a sleazy motel named after me. One them half lit signs out front that say “Jake’s Motel: Dirty sheets and broken dreams within. Ice and shower cap 5$ extra.”

  4. NotMike Says:

    Ah, nothing takes me back to the BYOSheets days like reminiscing here…

  5. dame Says:

    ‘I’m at work right now and so drunk I can’t feel my hand. I just keep slapping my face and listening to my ears ring like some sonic betrayer.’

    Oh CHRIST, is that ever FUNNY!!

  6. monkey Says:

    The restorative cocoon instructions were very funny.

    Also, AJ, you raise an interesting point in so far as identity and anonymity are concerned. However I do have a credit card, and am employed by Big Brother. The question that forms in my mind is one along the lines of the necessity of losing a part of your identity by choosing to play games by other people’s rules. Or spun slightly differently: does having credit card limit your freedom? Interesting …

  7. What ‘chu talkin’ ’bout, Willis? That pic was hilarious! If punk Kevin has done any good deed in his limited life, it was bringing attention to that pic!

  8. I do make a fetching bridge.

  9. max Says:

    No doubt you are a delicate flower.

    Is it just me or is it maybe different to wake up in a dumpster surrounded by church windows and museum etchings? This is a Catholic thing right?

  10. “No doubt you are a delicate flower”

    With gossamer petals kissed by morning dew.

    “Is it just me or is it maybe different to wake up in a dumpster surrounded by church windows and museum etchings?”

    Trust me, no two dumpster are every really the same. Oh Oscar the grouch, how could you make such an ugly world seem so beautiful?

    “This is a Catholic thing right?”

    Irish Protestant by birth.
    Sort of half assed Buddhist, Nietzschean, snake charmer by journey.

  11. max Says:

    That does not start with a C. This is going to be such a difficult exam.

  12. engtech Says:

    FYI: that’s my hand crushing his head.

    Note the lack of callouses from never having done a day’s work.

  13. max Says:

    Eng, you crack me up.

  14. Anon Says:

    Hi, it’s Stiletto Girl, writing anonymously. We all want to know how tall you are. Thank you.

    (Lies will be accepted to fuel the fantasy).

  15. “Hi, it’s Stiletto Girl, writing anonymously. We all want to know how tall you are. Thank you.”

    6 foot , around 180lbs.
    and there are enough real life folks on here I can’t really get away with lying about stuff like that.

  16. max Says:

    Hey! I was not on that conference call. Talk about school girl cabals.

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