Bullitt's Bros

Saturday, December 20, 2008

Correspondence with women.

To an artsy type girl:


I like it. It is the kind of thing that angered the gods of Easter Island and drove the inhabitants mad with idol-building fervor.

I own X-box.



No response yet. Not a great effort, but I am just getting started.


To a girl whose screen name had ATHENA in it.

Athena is a good name.

I like it for she sprang forth from the head of Zeus fully formed. And she was the goddess of wisdom.

As we need more wisdom in the world, I make it my mission to free as many avatars of Athena as I can from the mortal constraints of passers-by. I have a holy axe and I use it on anyone who seems to have un-excavated wisdom in their cranium. The authorities do not understand my holy mission so if we go to Appleby's together, I will eat my riblets under the table as you watch out for infidels.

Yours in parthenogenesis,


No response yet. But better, funnier, weirder.


To a girl who had red hair and talked a lot about cutting hair in her profile. She reminds me a lot of my ex-wife.


You are new to the site therefore I must congratulate you on your decisiveness.

I enjoyed your comments about cutting hair. Currently my haircuts are performed at an insane asylum on the 13th of every month. Not only does this reduce the cost of my haircuts, but it also gives the inmates something more constructive to do than their typical schedule of macaroni sculpting, TV watching, and forced sodomy. I like to think of it as my form of charity. Occasionally an inmate will attempt to force a foreign object into my head but as it's usually imaginary - a demon, a ghost, a secret box made incarnate from the third promise of Fatima - it doesn't actually hurt.

Red is a good color. Your hair is the color of Santa Claus' blood.


No response yet. But this is fairly good. I wimped out a bit on the Santa line.

To a girl who is some kind of denim fashion designer and had a truly exhaustive list of why she won't date someone. Most notable, if they talk about the size of their "junk." She seems, for lack of a better word, mean.


I read your entry about why you cannot date someone. It was voluminous and bespoke a difficult path with regards to dating. I also have a list of why I cannot date a girl.

1 - You want me to join a cult. I cannot get group married again.
2 - You want to cut out large swathes of my back-skin for your art project. Once is too many times there, missy!
3 - You won't let me tell you about my junk. Really, this i don't get. I have junk from flotsam piles acrosss the globe. You would be surprised how interesting the dimensions of Burmese refuse can truly be.
4 - You don't believe in the cyclops god. He is real and he is watching with his one baleful eye. His foe is Ulysses and sheep.
5 - You object to my weapons collection and predilection for police station arson.

I would like to see your denim. I am building a cyborg and much of his inner workings are unattractive. This is because I beat him but it's really his fault. He won't listen.


No response yet. Too direct an attack, I think.


To a girl who is a vegan. Her tag line was "Nasty, Brutish, and Short."

I appreciate your Hobbesian tag line.

I found much to appreciate in your profile. I can sympathize with your veganism in a Peter Singerish way. I personally do eat meat but I have learned to only eat meat from animals that die of old age. This way no cruelty can come of it.

Sure, some people are discomfited by my haunting of animal old age homes and once or twice I was accused of talking animals into suicide in all night, Hannibal Lecter-like jam sessions... but at the end of the day these animals chose to take their lives. One was in a bad master-pet relationship, the other had been castrated by a thoughtless owner. They had reasons to go to the other side. Is it my fault they left behind such tasty corpses? Of course not.

It is my adventures, by the way, that gave rise to the title, "Silence of the Lambs."

And it was a COW'S liver. And Pinto beans.


No response yet.


To a girl who lives in West Hollywood where I also reside and claims to read a book a day. Unlikely at best.


I also share your passion for the written word. So much so that some months ago I affixed a pair of wax lips to a Roget's Thesaurus and made out with it mightily. It began as a burning flame of desire until Rogette's confectionery lips began to disintegrate under the constant barrage of my smooch cannon. Suffice it to say, Rogette's days d'amour are behind me and it is now time to move on to a new voluptuary. I found you on this site and your appeal is vast... in addition to your numerous literary and filmic qualities, you live close and I hate to drive.


No response yet, but I did just send it.



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