Dear Kraut Midget

y D.R. Haney

There’s no question too big or small for Fritz
Neitzsche!

Dear Kraut Midget:

I realize you’ve been dead for about a hundred years
now and you were insane for at least twenty years
before that (was that syphillis or what?) but I’m
wondering exactly what you meant with all that
‘superman’ stuff.  I mean did they have comic books
back when you were my age?  (I’m thirty-five
chronologically but thirteen emotionally.)  What did
superman like back then?  Was he crazy, too?  Can
you get me a copy of the Superman Number One at a
discount?  Oh, and who’s this Zarathustra guy you
talk about?  Was he, like, Superman’s first
arch-enemyor what?

Randy in Redondo

Dear Randy: 

Yes, it was syphillis.  Make sure you always use a
rubber because it sure burns like hell when you take a
leak!  Sorry to say I’ve never been into comics all
that much (except for Dan Clowes:  he’s a genius!)  so
you’ve completely misconstrued the meaning of my
superman but, then, what else can be expected from
someone from Redondo?  The superman I wrote about was
my best hope for the future of mankind, someone who
would sacrifice his very ‘humanity’ in the interests
of great achievement, a kind of antedote to the gross
democratization underway at that time.  Unfortunately,

democratization has now made the superman impossible.
The bar has been set too low and people are too
motherfucking lazy to ever achieve anything outside of
writing dumbfuck letters such as yours.  But I guess
maybe you’re lucky in some ways since you’re
presumably alive and sane whereas, as you rightly
point out, I’m deader than a fucking doornail and out
of my mind to boot.  I mean the syphillis didn’t help
things much but I pushed myself a little too hard
trying to
be Zarathustra.  Who’s he, you ask?  Only a
replacement for Jesus Christ!  Anyway, this is all to
tell you I can’t get you a copy of that first Superman
and, since he never really existed, I’m afraid I can’t
tell you what he looked like a hundred years
ago,either.  Thanks for writing.

Dear Kraut Midget:

My balls are the size of raisins.  I have no courage,
no drive, I’m completely pussywhipped.  My friends
are all exactly the same way.  What’s wrong with us? 
Why are all we such no-account pussy boys? 

Dickless Wonder

Dear Dickless: 

You are the victim of a complex historical process. 
Once upon a time you would have killed animals with
your bare hands and fed the meat to a large tribe of
children sired among many different wives, all of whom
would have adored you for your manly prowess.  Alas,
those days are no more.  Technology has increasingly
rendered the genders more and more alike (I warned you
people about that shit!) so that, by now, your
testosterone is no longer much of an asset in terms of
alluring the fair sex—girls are too threatened by
that these days.  It really doesn’t matter, anyway,
since, in about twenty years, babies will all be put
together in test tubes and grown in aquariums.  I mean
you’ve listened to Radiohead, right?  And, actually,
I bet Thom Yorke gets more pussy than the entire NFL
put together and Michael Stipe would, too, if he
played that side of the mattress.  So don’t fret
about being a dickless wonder.  You’re right on time,
epoch-wise.

Dear Kraut Midget:

Can you please explain “Mulholland Drive”?  I’ve seen
it, I don’t know, about a hundred million times and
Istill don’t understand! 

Thanks,David L.

Dear David:

Well, I think it was all a dream right before the
blonde blew her brains out but who the hell were those
weird old Jews?  And that homeless guy who lived
behind the diner—I mean was he like the
puppetmaster or what?  So I guess I’m saying that
even I,
who became head of the philolgy department at the
University of Basel at the tender age of twenty-four,
am as baffled by “Mulholland Drive” as you are. 
Great lezzie action, though.  Did you hear the
brunette used to be Miss USA?  I also read in
“People” she was married to, like, a duke orsomething.
No, really!

Dear Pig: 

Is this your quote?  “Goest thou among women?  Do not
forget thy whip!“  That’s you, isn’t it?!  Oh, boy,
am I going to fix your fucking wagon!  Not only am I
going to get this zine to fire your midget ass but I’m
going to have every last copy of every book you ever
wrote tossed on a fire and BURNED, okay?, and when I’m
done with that, I’m going to dig up your misygonistic
bones and crush them into aspirin and I’m going to
dance on top of your grave, get me?  It’s people like
you who’ve made grrrls like me hate people like you. 
Yeah, you’d BETTER bring your fucking whip!  You’re
going to need it, bitch! 

Sylvia in Silverlake

Dear Sylvia:

You think you scare me?  I’m friends with Richard
fucking Wagner, okay?  Adolf Hitler’s a huge fan of
mine!  You don’t know what you’re dealing with, you
stupid cunt.  Fuck off and die!

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