by John Moe
The happy news is that the resulting collisions didn’t hurt me all that much. No major fractures, just a little scraping. And best of all, we won’t be seeing the Titanic around here again.
So everyone wins!
Icy
National Aeronautics and
Space Administration
Washington, D.C. 20546
Dear Mr. Elton John,
This letter is to inform you of your termination from the NASA astronaut program. Our decision comes after a great deal of deliberation, and while we take no pleasure in terminating you, we felt it was the only choice we had.
Your offenses have been many. To begin with, we had hoped that after all the hundreds of hours of training you received, you would understand the measures in place to prepare a crew for a launch. So when you showed up, preflight, with a bag packed by your wife, that rubbed a lot of people the wrong way. Jewelry? Oversize sunglasses? Sandwiches? On a rocket flight? That’s poor judgment, Mr. John. I don’t know if that’s the way it’s done in the rocky-roll world that you’re used to, but at NASA we don’t pack our own luggage.
You should also know that many on the ground crew mentioned that at zero hour (9 a.m.) you seemed to be intoxicated, possibly “high,” as the hippies say. At the time, I thought that to be a baseless accusation and, since we had a mission to launch, I disregarded it. But the transmissions you made once the craft had entered its orbit made me wonder. Over and over we would ask for your readings on the effects of weightlessness, the craft’s condition, and the status of the numerous scientific experiments onboard, but instead of giving us that information, you moped about missing the Earth and missing your wife and being lonely in space. Well, goddamn it, Mr. John, you knew what you were getting yourself into up there! It’s not like riding on a tour bus! Do you realize there are millions of people who’d give anything to be up there? It’s a chance of a lifetime! And you’re crying like a damn baby!
We expect a great deal from our astronauts, but perhaps the most important part of the job is an understanding of science. For our top men—Armstrong, Aldrin, and the like—understanding the science is more than a 9-to-5 job; they work at it seven days a week. Frankly, sir, I doubt your scientific acumen. After demanding data from you for days, you were only able to offer this insight: “Mars ain’t the kind of place to raise your kids. In fact, it’s cold as hell. And there’s no one there to raise them if you did.” First off, if you did what? That doesn’t even make sense.
Secondly, we did not send you up there to evaluate whether Mars is fit for human habitation or child rearing. Thirdly, your mission was not even going to Mars.
And another thing, the word is “astronaut.” When you run around Cape Canaveral saying “I’m a rocket man!” it’s embarrassing for everyone.
I am sorry to give you this information while you are still on your mission, Mr. John, and we realize that it’s going to be a long, long time until touchdown brings you back here. But NASA felt that your performance was so dismal that we must act immediately. You are simply not the man we thought you were when we hired you for this position. Please consider all future assignments canceled. Your place will be taken by Major Tom, who we expect will be a more dedicated and reliable member of the team.
Sincerely,
James C. Fletcher
NASA Administrator
A PROFESSIONAL HENCHMAN’S LETTERS HOME TO HIS MOTHER
September 4, 2002
Dear Mom,
Sorry it’s taken so long to write but I have been BUSY! Immediately after the graduation ceremonies at the subterranean lair (sorry you were too frightened to attend!), I received multiple offers to hench for some really exciting baddies!
I decided to take an entry-level position with Lex Luthor’s organization. That’s right! Me! Henching for Lex himself! The salary wasn’t all that high, but I really admire where Lex is going. He wants to take over not just the world but the entire UNIVERSE! Geez, who wouldn’t want to be a part of a team like that? Never could have done that back in Duluth, that’s for sure.
Tomorrow’s my first day!
Talk soon!
* * *
December 19, 2002
Hi Mom,
Really hate to tell you this, but I’m so busy at work that I just won’t be able to make it home for Christmas. I’m currently stationed at a secret location (can’t tell you where but it rhymes with Schmex Schmuthor’s Schmunderground Schmortress! Ha ha!), where I spend most of my time guarding the front entrance or the giant destructobot that Mr. Luthor’s been building. Please do NOT tell any heroes or even your friends at bridge club about any of this.
Best part about working for Mr. Luthor, aside from the flatteringly tight outfits, is all the friends I’ve made. Just a bunch of guys hanging out together, I’ve really gotten to know a lot of them pretty well. Me, Josh, Marcus, Louis, Scottie, I think we’ll be together for a long time.
* * *
January 4, 2003
Mom,
Well, don’t get too comfortable, huh? So all those friends I told you about are dead now. Superman did it. He killed them all. Josh and Scottie got blasted by some sort of energy pulse, Louis was crushed by falling rubble, and poor Marcus died from one punch by Superman. One punch!
Yeah, the Man of Steel (apparently not an exaggeration!) busted in, destroyed the destructobot (ironic!), and captured Mr. Luthor. A lot of the other henchmen got rounded up and sent to prison along with Mr. Luthor. We’re told that this is just a temporary thing and everyone will be busting out soon, but we don’t really know when that will be. Those of us who got away have decided to just move on. Who’s to say Mr. Luthor wouldn’t kill us when he gets back? Artists are temperamental like that. It’s because of their brilliance.
I’ll write again when I have a more permanent address!
* * *
February 12, 2003
Dear Mom,
Good news! I’m employed!
One of the great things about the henchmen community is how much we look out for each other. Even though villains are being foiled all the time, there are always new villains ramping up new operations and looking for help. It’s just capitalism, the entrepreneurial spirit! It’s what makes this country great.
So thanks to some tips I got, I’ve hooked up with a guy named Ibrahim. Last name? I don’t ask. Just works better that way. It’s a simpler operation than Mr. Luthor’s. Ibrahim just seems intent on making a lot of money through drug trafficking (hello bonuses!) and/or blowing up a lot of innocent people because, I thiiiink he hates America? Maybe? I don’t know, that’s not my business. I’m just there to hench.
One of the other guys, Michael F. (we have three Michaels! Confusing!) asked if Ibrahim was Arab or Latino and none of us even knew. We don’t even know what country he’s from. He just calls it “my country.” And of course, I hate to pry.
* * *
March 7, 2003
Hi Mom,
Just a quick note to let you know that I might be moving again. Not sure. Stuff at Ibrahim’s compound is going fine, but we’ve heard that an agent named Jack Bauer has gotten wind of our operation and is going to try to get us.
In the henchmen community, this is what’s known as a RED FLAG (ha!) because Bauer is known for always getting stuff done. It’s weird too because he doesn’t even work that hard most of the time, but one day out of the year, he goes on this incredible 24-hour spurt and you do NOT want to be a villain or a henchman on those days.
And wouldn’t you know it, we’re about to launch some sort of missile, or set off a bomb, or something (that’s usually a “need to know” detail and henchmen don’t need to know in order to keep henching). So anyway, I have to guard the front gate tonight, just me and a couple other guys and our machine guns. I’m hoping Bauer doesn’t show up, but I can’t say he won’t. Fortunately, the guys I’m with, Eric and Nicholas, are really great people and super good at henching so I should be okay.
* * *
&n
bsp; March 8, 2003
Hi Mom!
Well, I guess it’s back to Craigslist because I am out of a job. You guessed it: Jack Bauer. Eric and Nicholas were both shot to death by Bauer. I guess I would have liked it if Bauer had stopped and maybe checked if they were okay, or at least acknowledged them in some way. But he just kept running right into the compound where he caught Ibrahim at the last second. Bummer.
I didn’t get shot but when I heard gun fire, I did a big exaggerated scene of dying in order to fake Bauer out. I thought maybe I could then sneak up on him from behind once he was inside the compound. But once it was clear he was going to win, I just grabbed some of my stuff and hit the road.
I was also able to grab a whole lot of cash that was lying around so I can now afford to wait for the right henching opportunity to come up next. I’d like to get into a city, maybe. Enclosed, please find $100,000 so you can finally get that upstairs bathroom renovated.
* * *
August 20, 2003
Greetings from New York City, Mom!
Yep, I am in the Big Apple. I’ve been here for a month now and it’s a really amazing city. So many Broadway theaters and museums and historical sites!
Unfortunately, I haven’t really had a chance to get out to see any of them because I have been so busy with—guess what!—work! I took a position with a really promising madman named Dr. Otto Octavius. His nickname is “Dr. Octopus” or even just “Doc Ock” because he has all these robotic appendages that are super strong. I’m not sure what we henchmen are supposed to call him but since he’s really moody I just call him “Doctor,” if I talk to him at all, which I try not to do because he’s nuts.
The job pays well and the science of it is pretty interesting. But the long hours are a drag and he has us wearing these ridiculous purple outfits. On my other hench jobs, we just wore something simple and black. I guess things are different in New York.
* * *
October 17, 2003
Hi Mom!
How have you been? Better than me, I hope. I hate to complain about work, goodness knows there are a lot of people who don’t have a job at all, but this Doc Ock assignment has been a rough one. It’s like I don’t even know what he stands for! I remember how Mr. Luthor wanted absolute power and then it was like all us henchmen could work together toward a goal.
Really, it’s just a bunch of dudes in purple outfits trying to predict the mood of a crazy guy with mechanical arms.
And now we got Spiderman to deal with. He’s coming for us. Realistically, if you’ve been around the block as a henchman, you know how this ends. Your guy gets defeated. You get killed or sent to prison or maybe (like me) you escape and go on to hench again. But even then, you’re just setting up another grim scenario.
* * *
November 8, 2003
Hi Mom,
Looks like things are crumbling here again. Spiderman seems to be on the way to shutting us down. That has a lot of people around here feeling pretty stressed out. That’s the vibe I’m getting, anyway. I don’t really talk to a lot of people on this job. I’m getting a little, well, gun shy when it comes to friendship.
* * *
February 8, 2004
Hi Mom,
I have to ask you something. Would it be okay if I came back to live with you for a while? The Doc Ock job ended. Thank god. And I escaped again.
By the time the job was over, I had compiled quite a big scrapbook of articles about Spiderman. It got a little awkward when Doc Ock himself found it! I told him I was just researching Spidey’s weaknesses to defeat him. I didn’t call him Spidey at the time, obviously. He bought it so I really dodged a bullet there. Soon after that, I dodged several more actual bullets when the cops shut us down.
* * *
March 20, 2004
Hi Mom,
Hold that thought! Turns out I’m not coming back home after all. You know how I had NO fun on my last job? I just landed a job with a baddie named, get this, The Joker! He seems like a really fun boss and I have high hopes that this will be just the gig to really get things back to normal for me.
I leave for Gotham City in the morning. Talk to you soon!
REJECTED
PROPOSALS
SUPER BOWLS XXXV TO XLI
SUPER BOWL XXXV—JANUARY 28, 2001
• The Committee received a proposal titled “2001: A Disappointment Odyssey,” which would demonstrate how comparatively lame our society actually is compared to the one presented in the 1968 film, 2001: A Space Odyssey. One half of the field would present the society implicitly promised, complete with a sentient malevolent computer, a moon base, and missions to Jupiter. On the other half of the field would be the world as it actually exists, with a moonscape uninhabited by humans, a crappy PC, and a picture of Jupiter with no manned rockets heading toward it at all. The Committee felt that the whole thing seemed kind of static and depressing although the Committee did enjoy the idea of hordes of bone-wielding apes destroying the set just before the second half kickoff.
• The Committee went with Ben Stiller, Adam Sandler, Chris Rock, Aerosmith, ‘N Sync, Britney Spears, Mary J. Blige, Nelly, and really anyone else who wanted to join in.
SUPER BOWL XXXVI—FEBRUARY 3, 2002
• In recognition of the recent events of 9/11/2001, the Committee received a proposal calling for all the players on both the St. Louis Rams and New England Patriots to simply sit in the middle of the field, holding each other and meditating on the idea of togetherness even in the midst of violence.
• The players stated a strong preference to weep alone in their dressing rooms, so U2 was hired instead.
SUPER BOWL XXXVII—JANUARY 26, 2003
• The “Harry Potter vs. The Lord of the Rings” proposal called for main characters from both franchises of books and movies to do battle against each other for fantasy supremacy. Gandalf would try to kill Dumbledore, and Harry would ride a broom and cast spells on Frodo and his companions. The Committee was concerned about the idea of protagonists trying to destroy each other as opposed to trying to take on Voldemort and Sauron. In fact, in the proposal’s imagining, Voldemort and Harry team up, firing deadly spells on all members of the Fellowship of the Ring. In the end, the Committee felt that such a show could upset children and, frankly, attract more nerds than one would really want around.
• Shania Twain, No Doubt, and Sting were hired since they go so well together.
SUPER BOWL XXXVIII—FEBRUARY 1, 2004
• The proposal titled “Hooray for Modesty” never really had much of a chance before the Committee since it seemed awfully prudish and conservative. It called for female dancers—all clad in thick, heavily secured cloaks over their chests—who would kind of shuffle around while keeping their arms folded across their chests. Songs, presented by vocalists zipped into sleeping bags, would extol the virtues of never displaying any skin whatsoever.
• Janet Jackson and Justin Timberlake were hired instead. The plan was for Ms. Jackson to wear something skimpy and for everything to work out really well.
SUPER BOWL XXXIX—FEBRUARY 6, 2005
• This year, the Committee itself submitted a proposal, in part to mitigate FCC fines and in part to demonstrate how sorry it was over what happened last year. It was called “Janet Jackson’s Terrifying Boob.” An oversized Mummenschanz-style puppet of Ms. Jackson’s breast, accidentally exposed during last year’s halftime show, would travel between sets wreaking havoc and demonstrating the destructive power of a boob. The boob would rob a bank, sabotage a school playground, supply Saddam Hussein with yellowcake uranium, and so forth.
• The Committee rejected its own proposal because Janet Jackson’s breast was frightening enough, and a 40-foot-tall puppet boob might cause some long-term psychological damage. Yes, boobs are completely natural but let’s be honest, they are naturally TOTALLY TERRIFYING.
• Paul McCartney, a breastless man, was hired.
SUPER BOWL XL—FEBRUARY 5, 2006
&n
bsp; • “XL America!” was the title of a proposal considered by the Committee, a play on words with this year’s Super Bowl number. Sponsored by America’s high fructose corn syrup manufacturers, it set out to embrace the growing American waistline and celebrate our nation’s “Obesity Opportunity.” Plus-size, or in some cases plus-plus-size models, were to dance around the field for seconds at a time before stopping to enjoy a refreshing cola, orange soda, corn chips, candy, or entire pie.
• The Committee was attracted by the message of self-acceptance, but felt that the halftime show wouldn’t really stand out amid the many Super Bowl commercials for snacks and high-calorie beverages.
• The Committee thought it would be fun to finally have Tony Randall on to portray the late Pope John Paul II but learned that Randall had died in 2004. The Committee made a mental note that it should have found someone new to present a salute to Randall, or rather be denied in an effort to present such a salute.
