Howdy from the mailroom!

A few weeks ago the writers of this blog asked you, the readers, to submit questions that would be answered in this, our first ever Behind the Scenes Week. Since then we have received, literally, several questions, most of which have little or nothing to do with what goes on in the daily operations of the McDougal empire.

Since we here in the mailroom have nothing better to do besides thumb through McDougal's issues of Hustler Magazine and fashion crude hockey pucks out of wads of junk mail and duct tape, the writing staff has asked us to answer a few letters. Actually, they asked the editorial staff. But the editorial staff, apparently, thinks it is more important to do things like pass out in the elevator or spend the day in the hospital getting their stomach pumped because they tried to kill themselves by drinking a gallon of eggnog from 1998 or get arrested trying to get through customs in Miami with 17 pygmy marmosets taped to their thighs. But if anyone asks we're supposed to say they had to take the day off for a family emergency. Fuck them. If there are no editors, who the hell is supposed to stop us from printing that? It says a lot about an organization when its smartest employees are the wage slaves in the mailroom.

Oh, and for the record, we would probably be the Blogger league softball champions, but the mailroom staff refuses to be on the team with those other douchebags.

Here are the fucking letters.

The first one comes from Damnsle, who writes:

Recently I tripped over a fallen branch from a pine tree that was part of a blow down from a wind storm. Why?

The short answer is that you are going through your life not paying any attention to anything. The tiniest amount of awareness of your surroundings at any given moment will prevent this sort of thing from happening. Your inattention will someday kill you. Hopefully you do not take dozens of innocent people with you.

The long answer is that several years before your trip over the branch, a small butterfly somewhere deep in the Amazon flapped its wings a single time. This tiny puff of air rode the currents of Earth's atmosphere, combining with other puffs of wind, eventually growing into a gale capable of shattering the branches of all but the mightiest of trees. The particular branch this gale was fated to break happened to rest above a sidewalk. The timing of the branch breaking also just happened to coincide with the passage of a Hollywood casting agent, who received a very minor injury to his brain as a result. This explains the career of Ashton Kutcher.

More important, from a personal standpoint, is the question I have... Why did you not include a naked picture of yourself with your letter? McDougal receives lots of fan mail from men, but letters from women are few and far between. The letters from men often include photos, seldom clothed. Just once I'd like to open up a letter and find a picture of a beautiful woman in the nude. Your envelope smelled faintly of perfume. I keep it under my pillow while I sleep.

Speaking of obsessive male fans, our next question is from Josh Williams. You might have noticed that we answered one of his questions yesterday. This freak sends in so many questions that we could have a "Behind the Scenes Year" and still not answer them all.

As a child upon my beloved Grandfathers orders I sprayed DDT on a fishing pond to kill the mosquito fern (that's what they called it) so far as I can tell I am an endangered species who could die within this century, quite possibly from my contact with DDT, what will McDougal do for my cause?

Actually, maybe that explains the career of Ashton Kutcher. You don't happen to work in Hollywood, do you Williams?

I asked McDougal's campaign manager about this. He seemed to think that DDT had been banned sometime in the 1970s, but he might still be able to track down a barrel or two in storage somewhere. He says in the mean time, the canned aerosol roach spray that is available in any hardware store packs a similar kick, so you might try huffing that to get your buzz.