Archive for the ‘The Mayor Gets Mail’ Category
**That is NOT a photo of Sarah Knott.
On February 2, the year of the Lord 2011, Sarah Knott was chosen by The Mayor of Mitchieville to be the Hump Day Hottie. What should have been a day of great celebration has now turned into a day of terrible remorse on behalf of The Mayor. You see, when The Mayor woke up this morning and checked in on Mitchieville, this comment by none other than Sarah Knott was waiting for me for approval:
Well well well.. have i just come across a photo of myself stolen off obviously one of my web sites ..
marc in calgary: thank you dearly for your opinion, you are welcome to it. i will have to admit it is not one of my best shots YET it obviously is good enough to get some ones attention and have them steal it off my site.
As for that “fading tattoo” that is copyright from the MAXIM UK magazine it was featured in NOT a fading tattoo. The copyright is put there in the hope people dont steal my photos when they dont own them.. as you can see . It doesnt work very well.
My Nails, Cleaned everyday day nothing gets stuck under them =)
And trust me .. I can open a jam jar with my pinky.
And finally – here is a link that will show u a bit better photos of me, these photos are permitted to be on the site… there you can see where my horse face has got me in life …
and how proud my dad is !!
The Mayor would like to first start off by offering Sarah my deepest heartfelt apology. It was never my intention to hurt your feelings in any way, Sarah. Unless I purposely try to hurt someones feelings, I don’t actually mean to hurt someones feelings on purpose. I know you are not familiar with Hump Day Hottie, but anyone that graces these pages via Hump Day Hottie is something just a bit special. You, Sarah, are a bit of special. Hump Day hottie is reserved for the cream ‘o the crop, not for sludge and human waste. I’m sure if you look through the archived history of Mitchieville’s Hump Day Hottie, you will see that you are in fine c0mpany. Company that includes the most beautiful women ever to set their beautiful feet on this filthy earth.
If you would like me to remove your picture from Mitchieville, I will do so. I truly feel though that by removing your picture, I am removing the innards from every hot-blooded male on this planet. I would be taking their heart, removing it from their chest cavity, throwing it to the ground and smashing it with a heavy object – perhaps a sledgehammer or something equally as heavy. However, if that is your wish, I will agree.
As for this Marc in Calgary unit. I can tell you honestly, Sarah, that I am not familiar with him. I have never heard of him. I would be surprised if he even exists. I mean really, look at the way he spells Marc. He spells it with a C. Hahaha.
He’s obviously jealous of your beauty. I bet you this “Marc” fella is actually a chick. A small breasted one at that.
Sarah, I’m not expecting you to accept my apology. I suppose I’m expecting you to just walk away and ignore my apology. I can’t say I blame you. Emotions ran high that day, words were said that maybe should not have been, and feelings were hurt. Your feelings. I do want you to know though that The Mayor does feel your pain. For The Mayor knows what it is like to be judged. You see, The Mayor is beautiful as the day is long. I’m not conceited, oh noes, but the truth is that I am truly an incredible specimen. Much like you. I mean, minus the girl parts. The Mayor is shockingly handsome, as you have probably guessed by now. Women love me while men are jealous of my incredible manly looks and extraordinary physique. I’m so massive and strong that I can crush walnuts with my testicles. Impressive? You damn straight that’s impressive. Get that visual into ya, soak it up. Make love to that visual. Now stop. Concentrate.
The Mayor is so gorgeous that he hangs a picture of himself on his bedroom wall and can only make love to his wife if he’s looking at himself. Speaking of TLDG, she’s so hot for me that she has to carry a bucket with her if she gets within 25 feet of me. Figure that one out later, but it’s an overt sexual reference relating to the vagina.
My point being, we, as in you and I, are definitely in the top 1 percentile of amazing looking humanoids. Probably closer to .0001%. And that’s why chicks like Marc say the things that they do. If you remember correctly, The Mayor was the one who pointed out that you have long hair. Amiright?
In closing, Mitchieville died a little today. The Mayor can only hope that he has brought some form of closure to this whole disgusting mess.
Sarah, sorry. Sorry for everything. Sorry. I’m even sorry for apologizing so much. That’s how much I’m sorry.
I do what I can to make the Mayors’ life easier. I read his mail, to save him from the eye strain. Here is a great letter …
I have never written to you before today. I enjoy your site and it makes me laugh.
A few weeks ago, I took Fenris’ advice and made a burnt offering to Set, the Snake God. That was easy. I got some bacon and put it on the bar-b-que. The Maple Syrup scent was wonderful.
The next day, strange things started to happen. My supervisor, at work, died. I got the promotion into his job. I had to clean out his desk. That was pretty creepy.
The strangest thing was when I went out for a walk last night. I was walking down an alley (I do not live in an area of diversity, so it is safe to walk around at night) and this dog started barking at me. The owner came out and wondered what was going on. She told me that the dog never barks at people, only dogs. I was alone … there were no dogs.
I choked on my own words: I wanted to say ‘There are no dogs out here’, but something grabbed at my chest.
Am I turning into a werewolf, Mayor?
Your devoted reader,
Heck, what should the Mayor tell this guy?
If The Mayor had more time he’d be able to answer all these questions. But being The Mayor of the 49th fastest growing community in NE Durham Region, Ontario, Canada, North America, The World, The UNIVERSE tends to eat into any extra time I might have. Which is none. I’m not kidding. I’m very busy. Probably because I’m a very important person.
Therefore, whenever I get questions sent to me, I will refer them to you; the brilliant, magnificent and masterly constituents of Mitchieville.
According to Letter of Note:
Until very recently I’d heard numerous tales of Steve Martin’s humorous responses to fan mail, but frustratingly had never seen such a letter; thankfully that situation was remedied the other week when I chanced upon the following note, apparently sent by Martin in the early-80s, post-Jerk (ahem), when he was at the top of his game. Written on his production company’s letterhead to a fan named Jerry, this personalised form letter – in particular the post-script – is further confirmation that almost everything Steve Martin produced during that era was incredibly funny.
And then Martin started making movies like The Pink Panther 1 & 2, Bringing Down the House 1 & 2, Cheaper By the Dozen 1 & 2 and the terrible Father of the Bride franchise, and he was no longer funny. Poof! Into the ether.
**Originally found on Ka-Ching!
The Mayor got an email today from Ed “The Rock Star”, who resides in beautiful New Brunswick. Ed was over at the Puffington Host (he must have lost a bet), and was reading up on the kerfuffle surrounding David Letterman’s joke about Amanda Simpson.
As you can imagine, the Puffington crowd is in quite a tizzy over this, and Ed *The Rock Star* decided it was time to ratchet things up a few notches.
Now, here’s Ed’s response:
I find this matter significant, and interesting. Of particular interest, was the poll at the bottom from the writer/news people. My question is, why were the only 3 options Funny, inappropriate, or lame? What about appropriate?
Sure, it’s a little gag, but seriously, if this is a democrazy (OOPS, did I REALLY spell that wrong?), wouldn’t people be entitled to think something is funny? Lets pretend a similar situation happened that WASN’T a gag. Fellows, at the risk of being… Well, risque… I’d be a little miffed, and even a little grossed-out to find out I’d been intimate with a woman, only to find out she WASN’T a woman. Isn’t humour supposed to be about perspectives on awkward stuff? I don’t think the gag was an attack on the transgendered. Personally, I see it as a little nod towards what may be a serious issue: gender deceit.
Honestly, if you want to CHOOSE your gender, go ahead, but I think they’ve raised a courtesy I’d LIKE to be assured the transgendered would grant their fellow people, at least in romantic/intimate contexts. The JOKE here, wasn’t, “Ooooh, she’s a tranny!” The JOKE was, “She’s a tranny, and let him think otherwise!” THAT would be a deceitful and morally reprehensible thing to do. Honestly, if you want to choose your gender, that’s a “right” society has decided you have, but it’s also OUR right to prefer the people we copulate with be “naturally gendered”, for lack of a better term. If you deny THAT, we’re on a slipperier slope than I thought.
At any rate, I find it peculiar, and short-sighted that this article gave us only 3 polling options. If I had to pick ONE from them, I’d say “funny”, but I don’t think that does it justice. It’s far from being an inappropriate joke, as well. On the contrary, I would consider it a highly relevant joke, bringing to light a potentially
significant matter. Perhaps TWO polls on this one would have been more realistic. One between funny/lame, and one between inappropriate/relevant.
Just my two cents.
As Mayor of the 49th fastest growing community in N.E Durham region, Ontario, Canada, North America, the World, I get quite a few emails sent my way asking various questions. Usually people ask me about me. They ask about my life, they ask for advice, they ask this and that and often a little bit of the other. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think of these people as colossal pains in the ass, I think of them as people who are obviously infatuated with me and are looking for a little guidance.
I received a few emails last week that I would like to share with you today, perhaps my answers can be a compass for some of your life decisions. Maybe I can help you help yourself:
Dear Mr Mayor,
My name is Billy Roberts and I’m 8 years old. I want to be a pro golfer when I grow up, but daddy always laughs at me and says I’ll never amount to anything. He says my dwarfism is a hindrance and that I should concentrate on my skool work. Daddy is an accountant and often smells like cheap liquor.
Do you think I have any chance to grow up and be a great golfer like Tiger Woods?
Generally I tell little boys and girls that they can be anything they want if they just try hard enough, have enough determination and drive, and persevere when the going gets tough, they can be anything they want. However, in your specific case, I’d have to say it is probably best you give up your dream.
You see, you’re a dwarf, and dwarfs cannot be professional golfers. There is no cut and dry law saying that you can’t, but take a look at professional golfers and then compare yourself to them. Golfers are generally very strong men with big arms. You, you have dwarf arms. Golfers are usually over 3′ tall. That’s strike two against you, Billy. Golfers generally have a strong support system behind them. You? not so much.
I suggest you become a jockey, or even a professional midget wrestler. You seem to enjoy sports, and jockeying and wrestling are great sports for little guys like yourself.
Remember, Billy, The only thing stopping you from your dreams is a cruel God. Try realistic dreams this time, they aren’t so soul destroying and heart-crushing.
My name is Ingrid and I’m an exotic dancer from Sweden. I’ve seen pictures of you on your website and I’m dying to know how you stay in shape so well. You have a body that is carved in granite, a superior build, you are just absolutely eye-poppingly handsome.
Seriously, what’s your secret?
My dearest Ingrid,
Thank you for your email. That is both a fair and an honest question. Allow me to share with you how I became the physical specimen that I am.
The first thing you should know is that I don’t eat vegetables. As far as I’m concerned, vegetables are of the devil and only demented heads and Satan lovers eat them. They contain nothing that is good for you, and many vegetables are small, making it easy to choke on them.
I have been on a steady diet of meat and meat by-products since I can remember. When most children were eating carrot sticks, I was chewing on a lambs head. While most teenagers experimented with salads, I was busy building muscles by crushing the skulls of Satan loving vegetarians.
I am also on a strict regiment of masturbation. I masturbate up to seven times a day, and also receive a slew of handjobs from TLDG. I have forearms that are so monstrous I could crush a small dog with them. I also like long walks on the beach.
As far as how I got to be so good looking? God was obviously very happy the day he let my father bang away on my mother and let him slip a beautiful sperm into her which one day turned into the sexy-assed bastard known as The Mayor.
So, to recap: I don’t eat vegetables, I masturbate furiously, and God loves me.
I hope this answers all your questions, Ingrid. You seem like a nice girl, maybe we can get together some day and skip rocks on the beach. But only if it doesn’t interfere with masturbation time.