Read All You Want, But Eat All You Read

Introduction: Brandon Stahl and Cheryl Solimini began emailing back and forth when Cheryl, an otherwise successful author, lost an unfortunate bet and was forced to submit an article to LostBrain.com. The correspondences that took place between the two turned out to be almost as funny as Slate's Breakfast Table, so we decided to violate Cheryl's privacy and publish them.

-----Original Message-----
From: Cheryl Solimini
Sent: Thursday, May 04, 2002 9:14 AM
To: Travis Daub; Brandon Stahl
Subject: Re: Submission

Dear Travis and Brandon (not your real names),

Where were you with my alibi after the Watergate break-in?

Really, I am so thrilled (and I don't use that pussy intransitive verb lightly) to be accepted into Lost Brain that I don't regret a day spent in the Allenwood Penitentiary cafeteria being goaded by G. Gordon Liddy to taste his rat. But I hope it's okay if I tell everyone anyway that you paid me a quarter-million and a percentage of the gross for the privilege of running my piece. Just back me up when the time comes.

Since you have been so foresighted as to accept my work, I will let you in on a secret: I am only part of a consortium of frustrated journalists/professional writers who yearn to be Shecky Greene, only funnier, published and less close to death. (Monday is Shecky's birthday, by the way. Send a card or a nice fruit basket.) We recently "graduated" from a humor writing workshop offered through mediabisto.com and run by the effervescent Lynn Harris, standup comic, magazine writer and hockey player. We already walk among you. That Barbara Goodwin who wrote your Celebrity
Shoplifter Visa release? She's one of ours. (Nice production values, by the way.)

On second thought, maybe we are a cartel.

Did I mention that I think LostBrain is much funnier, and better produced, than MH? I actually mean that. And I'm not sincere that often. However, I must confess that I really do like The Onion. But they won't let anyone outside their incestuous America's Dairyland mafia write for them, so you can bet I'll be rooting for you guys when you compete against each other on Celebrity Boxing.

Thanks again for raising my standard of living!
Cheryl Solimini

From: Brandon Stahl
Date: Thu, 4 May 2002 10:46:21 -0600
To: 'Cheryl Solimini'
Subject: RE: Submission

Dear Cheryl (clearly your real name),

Will you marry me? Sure, I may already be married, but I've been giving polygamy considerable thought lately, and I think you're just the right person to take up as my second wife. Just picture it: We can live out our
days in our trailer home, you feeding me grapes while complimenting me on LostBrain, telling me how much better it is than ModernHumorist. I can return the compliment, telling you how much funnier you are than
mediabistro. We can be happy. For a year or so, anyway.

Sure, maybe telling me how funny LostBrain is probably isn't enough to
build a marriage that will last over a year. And yeah, maybe I've never met you before, and you'd probably get freaked out by the hideous third eye in the back of my head. And I'd probably tire of the way you insist on earning money rather than stealing it. But I really think this could work, so think it over and get back to me. I've already got my plane ticket booked for Utah.

-Brandon

From: Cheryl Solimini
Sent: Friday, May 05, 2002 1:34 PM
To: Brandon Stahl
Subject: Re: Submission

Aw, Brandon, you're just like all the rest! Compliment a guy's Website and, before you know it, he's down on one artificial knee, proposing a marriage that will have you playing second fiddle to a first wife and fresh produce. Sure, I fell for that the first two or three times, but now I'm not so easily swayed.

That doesn't mean I didn't seriously consider your offer. But after I checked the list prepared for me by my custodian, even I had to admit that there was just too much against our union. In alphabetical order:

1. I, too, am married. And sadly, happily. I briefly entertained the idea of a "Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice" configuration, but if Kulp and Wood and Cannon and Gould can't make it work, what chance do we mere mortals
have?

2. I have a freakish aversion to fruit (all kinds, except cold, unmealy Red Delicious apples-a long, true story and nothing funny about it). So, to me, having to feed grapes to anyone would be like listening to fingernails scraping along a blackboard while an unlicensed podiatrist pulls out my toenails with a pair of ice tongs. I've been told, though, that others find squishy, sticky, seeded, easily bruised things appealing.

3. I've had a humor book published by the Utaiwanese. They are a pasty-faced people with poor muscle tone. We could not live happily among them. (Also, my book never earned back its advance and my agent told me that the publishing company has armed the Mormon Tabernacle Choir with Tasers should I dare to set foot in the Osmond State again.)

4. Usually, I try to slip in my "I'm old enough to be your first cousin" excuse. But only yesterday, The Times reported that marrying my father's sister's son would not, as I feared, produce a disease-ridden, encephalitic cretin-or at least, the odds of this happening are no worse for us, if we should decide to spawn, that those faced by Barbara and George
Bush some 50-odd years ago.

5. There's no hope for us if you think only physical attractiveness or even mental competence is the key to lasting love. Did you learn nothing from the Minnelli-Giest nuptials?

6. Comedy should be your only mistress. A cruel mistress, yes, but one whose demand for palimony won't hold up in court.

7. Oh. yeah. I just remembered another possible obstacle. Think "The Crying Game."

And speaking of earning instead of stealing, I'd better get back to that. Unlike others, you don't pay me to sit around all day.

Sincerely,
Cheryl

Chapter 2: Why We Slobber