Dear Joel,

So I behaved today on my day off and got off three resumes, which at this point is pretty good for me. And with each one, I muscled down any possible anticipation cause expectations are effing kryptonite of the post-grad. You learn this sitting next to unrigging telephones, compulsively refreshing empty inboxes every 30 seconds for a year. It’s easy to make up excuses, it’s crazy out there, Ford’s laying off hundreds of people, cities are underwater, cats and dogs living to together, mass hysteria.

But this one fucker had the audacity to actually get back to me, just now in the middle of the night asking to see samples. And he’s out state of course which the worst kind responses to get …

And nobody wants to admit it, but wouldn’t it be kinda cool to be in New Orleans right now buddy, in the same kind of “how would I fight a bear” - style survival scenario? And I’m one step ahead of you Jeff Probst, I mailed myself the post-apocalyptic urban realty show this morning so that means I copyrighted it and I get half.

But you’re like swimming inside a shopping center and scaling office high-rises to steal water coolers, but it’s okay to loot when it’s water or food, seriously a sentator said so on MSNBC (and on a cruel and crass tie-in, Court TV was showing Mardi Gras COPS, which even I thought was tasteless and I’m writing this post). But there are alligators and Cajun bayou trash to watch out for and Creole people stealing fan boats from fat guys in white suits using voodoo. Dude, before we go Barber College, let’s go rough it in New Orleans for awhile. You know there will be weekend-warrior package trips on Expedia in the morning. We need the adventure/perspective.

Gimme odds that Jerry Falwell saying God is just punishing them for letting girls go wild.

Love, Scott