Lincoln TrudeauMY ADDRESSMY CITY, PROVINCEMY COUNTRY/POSTAL CODEFriday, June 30, 1995Elizabeth Barnes
c/o International Society of Poets
P.O. Box 1051
Fort Erie, Ontario
L2A 5N8
Dear Ms./Mrs. Barnes,
I recently received in the mail an invitation to The International Society of Poets Gala Poetry Symposium and Convention.
I believe the first thing that caught my attention was the imaginary anecdote involving me winning $5000 and a book publishing contract. For a moment I began to feel special.
Then I noticed the mock handwritten notice reading "Over 750 poets are already registered. Only a few spots left. Don't miss out!"
Wait just a second. How special am I to you really if 750 people managed to get word of this before me? I mean perhaps if you told one or two close friends, that's understandable -- but 750? Alas, my feeling of being appreciated has been shattered.
The next highlight I noticed was two awards I would get for my achievements. And the registration cost is what -- $495? Why at $247.50 each, those awards are a steal. Unless those awards are equipped with laser beams and motion detectors and are made of 24K gold, I hardly think it would be money well-spent.
I then saw another passage (which was underlined in an attempt to draw my attention -- cleverly done indeed) which said I would also receive a "professionally recorded cassette album comprised of poetry written by five award-winning poets", including myself. I can think of few things more terminally bothersome than listening to someone else's voice rattle off something I wrote. The Chinese water torture perhaps, but little else. Oh, and I'm told I will get not one, but three copies of this cassette -- I'm afraid I don't know any two people I hate enough to burden them with the sound of a human being I do not know reciting my poetry.
You mention that $30,000 in prizes will be awarded to poets. Why that's just fabulous. And you say 750 poets are already registered...so at $495 registration apiece, that's $371,250...hmmm. I know there's something to be said for a profit margin, but this is simply absurd. So which Club Med location are you and your cronies venturing to after this little experiment in capitalism?
I'd like to think you mean well in asking me to come down, but if you did, you'd invite me free of charge or at least at a discount. Awards never seem to mean as much when you have to actually buy them instead of earning them. And the conference's location -- why, it's beautiful Washington D.C., former murder capital of the United States! Oh, you spoil me so.
And the esteemed Senator Eugene McCarthy will be seminar leader, you say. Well, believe you me when I say any senator with the last name "McCarthy" is a friend of mine. Some kind of poetic witch-hunt of sorts, is it?
I am assured I will be "warmly welcomed" at the opening celebration. For almost $500 (not including hotel and travel, mind you), I expect a royal red carpet, a camel ride and six or seven official foot-kissers (and I want to keep the carpet as a memento as well -- that's just the kind of guy I am). With treatment like that to look forward to, who needs plaques and cassettes, really? You should be taking notes on this -- this knowledge may one day serve you well and may even save your life.
You entice me further into your web of wealth with details of a show by Johnny Cash, which is fine...oh, and a performance by The Shirelles, who in true oldies format, based most of their songs on mindless swill about how wonderful love is. Oh happy day.
I'll haul my poetic butt down there all in good time -- just make Dead Kennedys get back together for a show and for further entertainment, I'd like you to exhume the body of John Belushi and make him dance about the stage in Blues Brothers gear, using puppet strings by a puppeteer bearing some likeness to Donald Sutherland. True, all of this may well violate some legal barriers, but is that not the American Way?
Apparently, you felt I would be intrigued by my name going up in lights at a multimedia laser show. For my money, I want to crank the power settings on that laser and emblazon my enchanting signature on the foreheads of all living beings within a 50 mile radius. Now that's value for your money.
Wait -- there's more! Apparently, I can stay in the Hilton starting at $89 for a single room. Wowee! What a deal! So for a three-night stay, that's "only" $267 plus say $100 for gas money to Washington and back (probably more) plus $495 registration fee...all for only $862? For that money, I could buy a "fine" set of Cutco knives (to alleviate any confusion, Cutco knives are, like this whole fiasco, severely overpriced -- I used to sell them and never have I contemplated suicide so much in such a short period of time). Oh, but that's U.S. funds, is it not? Exchange rate of maybe 30% to be on the safe side...not even $1200! Wow. Does the term "starving artist" ring any bells for you? Ding ding ding. Ding ding. Ding.
Oh, but this money also supports a good cause I'm told -- you say that for my $495 fee, a whopping ten cents will be donated to a charitable cause. Dare to dream. At 750 poets, that's seventy-five bucks to help...renovate an ant colony, perhaps? Let's be honest here: with over a quarter million dollars coming in from this thing, I don't think a few thousand is too much to ask for an actual cause of some sort other than an increase in personal wealth.
Wait, there's more still -- even if I don't attend this conference, I can still become a Distinguished Member and get all kinds of things I would never consider buying in any state of mind, intoxicated, stoned or sober -- for only $125 (plus $12 shipping and handling). This must be my lucky day. Tomorrow I expect to win ten million dollars to pay for all this malarkey.
You also underlined the fact that the last year's symposium and convention was completely sold out. I've often marvelled at the human capacity for foolishness myself, though never before has it been made so clear to me. For this, I thank you.
You're looking forward to meeting me, you say? Hey, next time you're in town, why don't you drop by my place for dinner? For only $200, you can stay in the laundry room hamper with my two cats and we'll give you a plaque and four of my siblings to drive you as batty as I have become.
I must say too, when you said you were personally looking forward to meeting me, I felt cared for. Then I notice your signature -- I remarked it wasn't actually a signature at all and was made in the exact same ink as the highlighted text throughout the letter...and there's no indents in the page either. You didn't really sign that at all, did you? You don't really look forward to meeting me. Not even bothering to ask an underling to sign it for you -- you just got a cold machine to add that "personal" touch. Oh, I feel about as important as a bag of stale Oreos.
And the ink you used, that reddish-brown ink...was that environmentally-friendly vegetable-based ink or was it that toxic crap that will kill innocent fish and destroy the viable ecosystem we have so crucial to our continued sustenance? Oh, if I think for a moment this letter is contributing to the self-destruction of humanity...
In case my none-too-subtle letter has left you confused, allow me to be perfectly direct here: I am not in the least impressed with those who perceive me to be so foolish as to trade flattery for money I do not even have. I enjoyed the poem I sent to you, true, but I don't wish to be bothered by things I cannot afford.
I'd appreciate it if you did not allow this letter to reflect poorly on the bulk of Canadian society. There are a plethora of gullible people in Canada more than willing to fork over the dough for your convention -- you've simply chosen the wrong guy.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
Sincerely,Lincoln TrudeauP.S. If even the people in your flyer cannot be paid to smile naturally, what chance have I got?
