Junk Mail Letters: BMG #1

Lincoln Trudeau

MY ADDRESS

MY CITY, PROVINCE

MY COUNTRY/POSTAL CODE

MY PHONE NUMBER

Sept. 30, 1996

BMG Music Service

P.O. Box 7010

Mississauga, Ontario

L5A 4J3

To Somebody Besides the Hapless Monkeys in the Mail Room,

I'M GOING TO KILL EVERYONE IN YOUR FAMILY. No, of course I'm not! What a bunch of silliness that was. I don't know your family or even "you" for that matter. See, that was merely a clever ploy to get your attention. I even put it in boldface and capitals so it would just JUMP out at you. Neat, huh?

You have likely noticed this letter isn't as cordial as my other ones. In fact, just so you know how bloody polite I used to be, I've even enclosed copies of my previous letters.

Now pay close attention. I want you to read this very SLOWLY, so you understand it. When I joined the shameless ranks of BMG, I was told I must choose six free CDs. I did. Then I bought one CD and took three more free. You sent me the three freebies, as well as a Flipper album (and a bad one at that; you should have warned me).

I used "Bonus Bucks" to pay for the Flipper album so it cost $2 for postage. And the three freebies -- $7 postage. I decided to pay them both at once and sent ONE cheque for about $9. I thought, "Aw, they'll figure it out. They can't be THAT dumb!" Well it wasn't the first time I made a mistake.

Since then, you sent me a letter saying I still owe $2 or so (Like hell I do! Buy your own sandwich!) and you wouldn't send me the six other CDs I ordered (most of which I've since bought in stores -- yes, STORES -- so forget it).

Look, I have really no reason to be polite now. I've been ignored far too long to be smiley and cheery and oh-ha-ha-those-bmg-people-they're-so-nifty-hee-hee about this. I sent you a letter in May and another in July and both went unanswered. Funny though -- you had no bloody trouble sending me your selection-of-the-month nonsense. It's almost become a ritual: every two months, I will write to BMG. You will ignore me. I will get annoyed. I will write back. Not this time, suckers.

Look, you goons ignored me since MAY. The seasons have changed twice since then. My contract's settled and after how you treated me, I want out. I'm running away! No more abuse for this boy!

But here's the problem: you keep sending me selection-of-the-month info. I don't want it. But you don't listen.

So I dreamt up a way to get you to acknowledge my existence. I have decided to start a pile in my room for selections of the month. Every time you send me a selection, I will not open it up or send it back -- I will add it to the pile. I am hereby holding your unsuspecting monthly selections hostage until you leave me the hell alone.

That's right! Yes, you read that correctly. HOSTAGE! I've become a music-order terrorist, broohahaha. Betcha got into this business precisely to avoid this kind of lunacy -- well too late for that, you bureaucratic buffoon!

I'm not sure I have the legal right to do all this but I've exhausted other alternatives. If this is the only way you guys will pay attention, so be it.

Y'know, I wanted so much to like you guys. I went through some horseplay with that OTHER music-order place (you know DAMN well who I'm talking about). And I thought BMG would be different -- what the HELL was wrong with me? What a blasted FOOL I was to think I would be treated as the complex and unique individual I am. Instead, I'm just another number to you. Well I am not a number; I am a free man! Free!

I'd thank you for your time but I doubt you're that busy anyways.

Much less sincerely than last time,

Lincoln Trudeau

P.S. I was sober when I wrote this. Maybe a little TOO sober.