Dear Jet Blue

We used to have a good thing going. I was even faithful, for a number of years. You gave me everything I wanted in an airline: direct flights, low prices, friendly staff and flight attendants, and Direct TV. Your flights were usually on time, and the times were convenient–I loved the red-eye from San Jose to Boston!

But something’s changed in you… something ugly. You’ve gotten greedy and selfish, and stopped caring about me, or anyone else for that matter. Your prices used to be the lowest, and now they’re the highest. You don’t have direct flights to the West Coast anymore, and I’d be willing to bet you charge a first checked bag fee. Simply put: I can’t afford you anymore. I’m glad I never bit at the bait and got the JetBlue American Express card because if I had, chances are I’d be getting taken advantage of by two companies and not just one. I see now that that was probably your intention all along.

But I’ve had enough of you, Jet Blue. I’ve had enough of your unnecessary rate hikes and your systematic elimination of everything I used to love about you. I don’t have to stay faithful, and I won’t. As a matter of fact, I’m not sure I ever want to talk to you again. If you want to get me back, you’re going to have to change a lot. Frankly, I don’t think you have the integrity. If for some reason you decide to be a decent airline again, you know where to find me. Until then I’ll be slumming with Southwest–or maybe worse, Delta.

It breaks my heart that it’s come to this. I should have known all your promises were too good to be true and that you’d eventually betray me, but I wanted so badly to believe you that I didn’t see it coming.

I trusted you, you terrible bastard. It won’t happen again.

Disappointedly yours,


The Slow Elf Has Commandeered My Living Room

This week I have gotten back into collage… I was never really out of it, per se, just… non-practicing. However, the prelude to Christmas always makes me more creative, and this year is no exception. Unfortunately, the annual Christmas inspiration surge comes with three inconvenient limitations:

1. I am usually profoundly inspired with an idea for the perfect gift to make for a friend or relative within twenty four hours of paying a significant amount of money for something far from “perfect.” As I currently live on Martha’s Vineyard, the purchase has been made off-island, and returning anything is pretty much pointless, as the effort involved far exceeds the price of most things I buy.

2. The creative juices that seem to be completely frozen solid most of the year do thaw… usually with only three or four days left until Christmas. And I usually have to work a lot near Christmas, which means that either I don’t sleep for half a week and I turn up on Christmas with the perfect present(s), or I am unable to finish my masterpiece before the day arrives and I have to show up empty-handed.

3. My most inspired creations often involve a lot of random parts or ingredients, which usually means a bunch of running around to collect materials, many of which cannot be found on Martha’s Vineyard (what can, really, other than Black Dog boxer shorts and tacky tourist fodder with grapes on it?). Since my greatest ideas often take the slow, s l o w train, by the time they arrive, I’m damn near out of time for all the running around. I get desperate and spend too much money buying the parts at the most convenient place because I don’t have time to go anywhere else, thereby making a handmade present just as expensive as the sub-par store-bought gift.

Still, I always feel like the exhaustion and the expense have been worth it when I see the smile that says, “I didn’t know how much I wanted one of these,” accompanied by the raised eyebrow that says, “that creation must have resulted from an interesting thought process……”


George W. Bush Is A Lame Turducken

Tonight’s shift earned me two hundred bucks, two joints, free sailing lessons and a potential job in Puerto RIco. And after work, I watched four episodes of The Daily Show. I am now reconsidering my entire position on Mondays.

I bet you thought my hundredth post would be about grave personal injury. So did I.


Lousy Excuse For An Excuse

I haven’t written because I haven’t felt clever lately, and because I’m rather sick of almost everything I have to say.

When this changes, you’ll be the first to know.