dear f*ckers and F*ckettes—listen I got a million Draplin stories to which I might drop in the near future. Go get yer ears up and your nostrils noodlin cause I lived with draplin for quite a while in different circumstances that would make the average clean person want to puke and run home to momma. I know every sticka and shirt that mofo ever made and i seen him in his boxer shorts with his little diaries while he threw salami at me—yes, salami! and dont even ask me about the Qtips huddled around in the corner like some bad ear buddhist stupa—or the time he actually spit right in my face with Matt the f*ckin rooster Leonard looking on going “guys stop, please”—all tryin to be mad and angry. Yeah i got tons of tales to throw and lots of science to dribble of my chin about the draplin tradition—and let me tell u it aint pretty—kind of like dreaming of F*cking yer mom waking up in relief only to realize u are really fuckin yer mom. oh yeah—use yer instead of your—dont know why—just do it!

Folks, we have a textbook case of “Delusional Hot-headedness” upon us. Stay calm. We’ve already taken the necessary steps to talk the guy down from his literary edge. It ain’t easy being Fred Green. One can only walk so far. There are only so many fingers on the hands to count. Y’know, this is the Northwest man, and well, a two bit, slack-jawed Brooklyn accent just plain “Gets you no respect.”

Fred was lucky to rent a little space from us during our Anchorage summers. We took him in. We hosed him down, taught him how to function again. It’s a nice story, but a little hard to swallow for a guy like Fred Green. He was at a low point in his career. He wore two left shoes and was engaged in a nasty “lovelock” with Matt “Rooster” Leonard on one arm and a series of drunken natives on the other. He’d yell, he’d cry. They were trying times, with only the occasional night of dry eyes.

There were good times too. Matt and Fred would make love long into the night, in the land of the Midnight Sun, only to be jolted awake in each other’s arms by “Walter from Eklutna,” who wanted a little piece, too.

We gave him our support, and didn’t meddle in his multiple affairs. Matt and Fred still share feelings, but are divided due to matters of geography and disease. Work it out, boys.

Which brings us to the year of 2004. We’re out here, just trying to live our lives, in freedom and well, maybe our hard work will “get us ahead” just enough.

Fred, we understand how you feel, and we want you to know that we aren’t here for you. So fuck off and if you want to take this one to a new level, show up at CINCO this afternoon and bring yer brass knuckles.

That’s how we do it; swift and to the point.

SINcerely,

Aaron James Draplin,
Draplindustries Design Co., Portland, ORE

someone should hook leonard up to the internet to defend himself from this slander.

A,
If you ever get a chance, try ear candles, they clean out all the wax that a q-tip cannot reach. Refuginmarkable. This product was recommended to me from none other than Derek D. It’s quite an experience(don’t burn your house down). Happy St. Patty’s day. Drop me a line.
PS
Does Ryno hate green beer?

AAAaaaaaaaah! Fuck green beer!

Ryno,
kiss my irish hipocritical mo-fuckin ass bits.

Sorry, too much green beer.

Bry!

Ear Candles don’t work!

The next time I’m in Traverse I’ll bring an otoscope to look in your pretty ears…you grab the ear candles and I’ll show you that it’s just the wax from the candle! You proably don’t have any wax in your ears at all! You’re too young…wait until the hair starts growing there and then it will build up!

My friend has proven this recently to her mother in law….did you know that people actually pay in salons to have this done and it’s a scam…..

Sarah (Aaron’s sister…the DOCTOR)

p.s. I’ll be in Traverse for Easter!

Bry, She’ll yer give brown eye a checkup too, for a fee. The gal is pretty talented with an otoscope.

OOOoooooh baby, yeah oh, oh, oh, ooooooooh honey you got it all on now!!