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Editors Note: This letter was initially sent to the two local papers here in the Aspen area, though neither paper chose to publish. The issue in question is whether our small community should or should not vote to approve the taxes to fund a killer new rec center, which I believe is sorely needed in our “mid-valley” area. 

Don’t Believe the Greedy: Working Class Residents of the Mid-Valley Need the Crown Mountain Recreation Center

Bro’s and dudettes,
It is with fierce urgencyness that I write to the editors of this steamed journalistic endeavor in high hopes that my personal evacuations can be spiked into the public record.

Rockers, I urge you all to get your reps in like big dogs and vote often to pass Measurables 4C and 4D and let the mid-valley finally have the sweat factory it needs and deserves. It’s time to stop the bitching and start the lifting you Sally’s!

That wet, white stuff is falling again, and with it I find myself seeking an indoor place to push some iron, shoot some hoops, and make some waves. The prob is, to do so, we working-class mid-valleyerianites have to travel from here to Muscle Beach and back just to use the sweet facilities that our bro-munities have built for themselves. That’s a lot of time on the roads, bros!  We loc’s need the Crown Mountain Recreation Center to get our groove on here in our own burly neck of the woods without wasting all of that fuel and GTL time getting to the rack and back.

Call me kooky, but it seems to me that the greedy yup’s writing to the paper to complain about having to pay $2000 per year extra on their property taxes either made that number up, did the math wrong (what with the published $60 per year per $100,000 of appraised home value proposed as funding for the killer new gym) or, if I did their math right, have houses worth millions and maybe not oughta complain about not being able to pay for their kids’ schoolitation. Like, maybe have the kid get a job at the Rec, yo? That should help get their college fund AND their bod’s pumped up!

We regular Joe Old Snowmastadons, Basaltines, Emmaites, and El Jebelinarians have suffered enough from the migratory greed that has flowed DV ever since The Crippler got 86’ed. Give us and our kids a spot and let’s pass these Measurements and build this prime slice of radness so that we can reach our maxes here at home in the MV!

Sensationally,

C. Madison Anderson

Emma, CO

 

  

“Leave all the afternoon for exercise and recreation, which are as necessary as reading. I will rather say more necessary because health is worth more than learning.” – Thomas Jefferson

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July 11, 2012
Metallica, Inc.

Dear James, Kirk, Lars, Rob, and the rest of the Metallica crew and management:

Hi. I see on your Facebook page that more than 26 million people are Metallica “likers”, which is an astounding number, and an indication that you must get hundreds, if not thousands of letters a week. I hope that this one makes it.

Many, many huge congratulations to you all for sticking with your dreams and making shit happen. Metallica is one of, if not THE best rock and roll bands in the history of music. And that, my friends, is an amazing thing when you put it into historical context based on where we all came from.

Note that I did say we. Like yourselves, I grew up California, in my case in the Bay Area. When I was 14 years old, my brother Ody, who was three years older, started telling me about this band called Metallica that was playing around Oakland and The City. Every chance he could, he would go see you guys play. I still remember the ticket stubs that stuck out of the border of the mirror on his desk like paper spokes. Metallica, Metallica, Spastic Children, Metallica, Primus, Slayer, Grateful Dead (!) Metallica….so on.

He knew about you cats because he happened to be a DJ at the only heavy metal radio station in the Bay Area (that we knew of), 90.5 KVHS FM out of Concord – actually, out of Clayton Valley High, to be geographically factual.

You see, KVHS was a high school and college radio program at a particularly metalheaded high school right smack dab in the middle of, or perhaps right there on the screaming, bleeding, serrated blade tip of the Metal Revolution of the mid-80’s.. Mark Osegueda (singer/band leader for Death Angel) was Ody’s CLASS PRESIDENT fer chrissakes! He was also our next door neighbor. It was undoubtedly a cool time and place to grow up, and your music was one of our major guides and sources of inspiration (and good/bad hearted debauchery!)

I had the good fortune of following my brother into the radio program at KVHS when I was a sophomore at CVHS. By then, Metallica was a staple. You were actually FOUGHT over since DJ’s could, by rule, only play the same band every other show. I personally watched a fist fight occur outside of our studios between a DJ who “slipped” one of your songs in as he was about to get off the air and a DJ who had based his whole show around the theme of Fire and was going to lead off with Fight Fire with Fire.

When I joined KVHS, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to be in radio – to be a broadcaster, and they gave me that avenue, that opportunity: To help people rock to their fullest. Thankfully, I was surrounded with a whole bunch of likeminded folks there. EVERYONE at KVHS wanted the same. And for years, KVHS trained countless professionals how to get into and succeed in the business. Our alumni includes actors, DJ’s, station managers, TV personalities, musicians, sound men and women, and hundreds of other media professionals.

I am writing to let you all know that KVHS is being killed off by unrighteous bureaucrats of the Mount Diablo Unified School District. Clayton Valley High School, where KVHS has been located since its inception, has turned into a charter school, and subsequently both the support and funding for the program was pulled and all options for moving the station to another school were dashed – called “too expensive.”

I do not believe that it is presumptuous , nor is it an exaggeration to say that in some ways, the success of Metallica as a band was spurred on by the wholehearted support of both KVHS and its personnel as they/we moved into the professional ranks. We loved and still love your band and what you stand for.

I wonder if the band might care to comment, intervene, or otherwise remark upon this development in some way? Things are that dire. There is talk of selling off the frequency. The Wilson’s, who have administered the program for many years, have already been given their walking papers. In no way do I intend to guilt you all or anything of that nature – but rather to bring to your awareness a situation that I think, and many of my colleagues think, is just a G$^#%$d shame. And, importantly – something that should absolutely be avoided and corrected if at all possible.

I, and I am sure all of my colleagues, wish Metallica many years of continued success. You are all inspirations for every single rocker who ever lived. Keep shredding! Long live Metallica, and long live, even if in our memories, The Rock, 90.5 KVHS FM in Concord, California.

If I can help with any of your questions and concerns, please feel free to have anyone in the Metallica organization contact me.

Many thanks for taking the time to read this letter and to consider the request.

Corby Anderson

Director of Sales and Marketing

RadioCMC

Colorado Mountain College

1402 Blake Street

Glenwood Springs, CO 81601

 

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August 29, 2011

Steve Jobs
Chairman of the Board
Apple Computer Inc
1 Infinite Loop
Cupertino, CA 95014

Steve,

Congratulations, such as it is, on your recent retirement from your veritable position as the Main Brain behind Apple. The accomplishments of Apple Computers under your heady stead are bogglingly numerous, monumental, and, perhaps most important, beneficial to humanity for generations to come. You moved us forward, kicking and screaming at times, but onward toward that great maw of science fiction that we now see as our reality.

I sincerely hope that your retirement is more for your own peace of mind and to more keenly (if possible) focus and facilitate your creative process than it is for health related reasons, as has been speculated. In either case, and speaking for my brethren in human skin, whom even the nastiest of Regressives would have to agree, we wish you many great and thoughtful days ahead.

I write to you out of a gnawing and mounting sense of personal frustration. I have been an avid user of Apple products for years, both professionally and personally. The first keyboard that I ever drooled upon was a Macintosh. I wrote my first love letter on an Apple 2. If my skills of perverse persuasion had been anywhere as effective back then as the machine which manifested the delivery of my deepest teenage desires, it is a certainty that I would have had a much more satisfied high school existence. A transplanted North Californian at the ripe age of 8, in 1980, I literally grew up with Apple as my tangible image of good business, and yourself cast in the role of our technical Moses. As a professional video producer and writer, your inventions and subsequent products have made my career (such as it is) more user friendly, creative, and portable. Until recently, that is.

Despite my best efforts to lead a clean life, with steady piles of veges and fruits, I am unfortunately enduring some sort of rotten Apple syndrome of late. I must have acquired some sort of reverse-Midas touch to have tapped into such awful technical juju, but I can currently count at least six key components to my personal and professional life as deader than Al Davis’ facial nerves.

Every single high end digital device that I own with an Apple serial code tattooed on its cool, contoured underbelly is currently miserably, haplessly, and (to me) tragically broken. The little green lights that have warmed me with their constant, productivity-promising presence for all of these years have all gone terribly dim. No workie workie.  None of it. Not my constant companion – my Macbook Pro, my glorious iPhone, my iPods, slim white keyboard, or even the moderately form-fitting SuperMouse. It’s all broken. And damn it all to hell, Steve, I need all of this great shit to work.

“Get it fixed, dude” you might well say. “We’ve got great techs, stores FULL of them, in fact.” All well and good, unless you are living check to check, indeed, job to job as I have been since the bottom dropped out in 2008.  I’ve paid twice now to have the bastard motherboard of my professional central nervous system – my Mac Book Pro repaired. It’s the heat, they tell me. Metaphorically, I like to think that the battery can’t handle the intense fire that my creativity produces, or some such. In truth, the beast was maldesigned to handle the regular work of a modern multimedia professional. There aren’t enough fans, apparently. Ironic, in that you could say the same about my efforts as a writer. Nor is there any income to repair my basket full of bruised Apples.

I have now had three such failures in the past year, and each time it has crippled my productivity to the point of inviting the slothful dogs of sustained poverty directly into my cabin office. My second iPhone (the first one was stolen from the Monterey Rec Center. We tracked the thieves via Mobile Me until they wiped the phone and replaced my contacts with a series of Nortenos gang symbols before my very eyes) stopped working when a truly embarrassingly small amount of water touched the screen. That was months ago. Though urged not to by your support people, I performed delicate neurosurgery to the bloody thing in the glum light of my neighbors tack shed and somehow gave it a new battery, as recommended on the boards, but no avail. I still wound up stuck perpetuitously in some godforsaken logo loop. The iPods all died separately in consecutive Februaries. My wife refuses to buy anything with an Apple tag for Christmas anymore because of it. She thinks that we are jinxed or cursed, as if there is a difference.

I write to you because I am beyond wits end. I can’t even see a trace of wit from here. It is possible that you might be both the only person who cares to help a working schmuck like me, and simultaneously do something positive for our economy right now. It’s an easy proposition, Steve:  Fix my shit, and you fix America. My livelihood depends on this pile of gorgeous garbage working properly. Without it, I simply cannot do my job, nee cannot even look for a job, and thus in time I wind up back on the streets alongside the millions of other workless fools. America needs jobs like Michelle Bachmann needs Jesus H. Christmas himself to stump for her doomed campaign of brain dead logic and civil indifference.  And of all things, I’d think that you’d be interested in that. They don’t call you Mr. Jobs fer nothing, do they?

I’ll end with a quote that seems applicable, while admitting that I have no bleeding clue who the author is. Seems like a right minded chap, eh?
“Fix your eyes on perfection and you make almost everything speed towards it.”
-William Elery Channing

Beep,

Corby Anderson
0300 Vagneur Lane
Cabin A
Basalt, CO
81621

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May 16, 2010

Military Channel
Programming Department
Re: Sub-standard Television

Dear Sir, or Madam Programming Director,

Recently, thanks to a fantastic, and ultimately unavoidable opportunity that arrived in the form of a constant stream of unsolicited mail, my household has come under the distractible sway of the Direct TV broadcast system.

Prior to this boondoggle, our familial evening entertainment was restricted to obsolete acts of sentimental fancy, such as face to face conversation, the reading of novels, and the occasional marital boot-knocking. I don’t know how we survived without it, to be honest.

Now, we are provided with endless televised programming from an incredible diversity of networks and product-shillers. The other night, when the pneumonia kicked in and there was nothing to do but wait for death or dawn, I personally counted over 100 simultaneously broadcast programs devoted to cheaply designed workout/torture devices. Intrigued by the array of choices, but unable to simply choose due to acute codeine intoxication, I rigged the DVR function to record them all at once for future playback. My wife was slightly out of tune about the erasing of her collected spook-hunting programs, but has since retreated from her silence and has even started to message me on Facebook when I forget to lock something or turn a light out.

The sheer volume of digital choice has turned me into an unmanageably voracious viewer, and as a long-time admirer of military drama, there is no channel (other than the occasional Showtime “spice” hour) that has garnered my utterly divided attention more than your own. Thanks to digital recorders, television phones, workplace “research” and a car-mounted dish that pipes in your signal while I commute, I have actually averaged more than 24 hours a day of Military Channel viewing for two months straight. That is, until a programming shock last night halted that streak like an internal Vatican investigation.

I was just settling into my couch-bed after my nightly eyeball-scrubbing, when I saw that a favorite topic was about to be featured on your channel. Submarines!

I love almost all subs. The Hunt For Red October. The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. Togo’s Deli. Hellcats of the Navy is one of my all-time favorite Ronald Reagan/Nancy Davis (no/pun) vehicles. Hell, that movie may have single-handedly changed the fate of the entire world, for better or worse. Had it turned out better, Reagan might have continued to concentrate on movie making rather than fall into one of his foul depressions and consider, of all things, politics.

At any rate, my interest was quite piqued when your show began. And with that unusual focus, I watched with alternating sensations of admiration and fear as your top ten ticked down. Admiration for the men who lived and died in these barreling death tubes, and fear that your humorless producers would deign to leave off the most devastating, world-changing sub of all, the Yellow Submarine, which briefly (but brilliantly) sailed under the freaky flag of the Peace Patrol.

As that internalized battle waged, I made note of a few necessary conciliations given to what must be considered enemy navy’s. Your judges decided to sprinkle, for the sake of appearances, and a likely necessarily (so I would imagine) – a Jap model and a Russian sub in among the historic American and British submarines.

And as a good and prideful southern boy, you can imagine the old cheer that welled up in me as the last and top number was about to be revealed. We descendents of the old rebels of yore may have rehabilitated, for the most part, our social mores (and those that haven’t are Twinkie-sucking diabetics with rotten teeth and a wholly irrational, unfounded appreciation of Kenny Chesney), but we have never forgotten that the Hunley was the first submarine to sink an enemy warship when it downed the ill-fated Housatonic.

But rather than devote the top ranking to the most historic sub of the entire floating, sinking, torpedoing genre, your producers astonishingly gave that honor to a Nazi sub, and did so in a breathless narrative that made me question the very nature of your origins! What is this Nazi worship? I can’t imagine that you would have the balls to pull the same shit if a similar show was to rank the greatest armies. Or would you? What a goddamned insult to every single American sailor who put out to sea, in a world turned upside down, to go chase those fascist assholes around the ends of the earth. What’s left of Hemingway is spinning in its grave up there in Idaho. If Reagan were here, he’d have your treasonous asses thrown off the air quicker than you can count to Zehn, and have every single one of you permanently relegated to the backwater eddy of redneck-exploiting infomercial programming. That guy loved the FCC. He made it his bitch, so to speak.

But whoa is us, the times have changed. Ike was right. And since Ronny Reagan has gone off to pasture, sensationalized channels like yours have slipped in under our regulatory blockades to subvert our citizens with typically unpatriotic blood-lust. The current President has more than enough disaster to attend to rather than spend a second of time dealing with your Nazi-praising, but we, the people still have one enviable weapon at our disposal: the all-might remote.

Click.

Corby Anderson
Marina, CA

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January 31, 2010

Attorney at Law
Castle Meinhold and Stawiarskki, LLC
999 18th Street, Suite 2201
Denver, Colorado 80202

Dear Foreclosure Department: (Katie? Hard to read your signature)

I received on January 22nd a letter claiming that your company has been chosen as the lucky winner in the “Biggest Loser” contest, (Housing Category), by Wells Fargo Bank, who happen to own the mortgage that belongs to my house, 421 Deep Hole Drive, Carbondale, CO. 81623.

As I understand it, your firm plans to foreclose on our property unless you receive a letter of serious protest from me within (30) days. Since I do not have three-hundred-some-odd-thousand dollars on me of late, please consider this that letter.

I am working on a Loan Modification with WF, and we seem to be getting along again. At least the nasty phone calls have ceased. I think that they got the message when I had my brothers baby speak into the phone when they called. His only word up until this point is “mommy.”

I plan to rent out my house and continue to pay this new, improved (wait, the mortgage is actually more than it was before?!) mortgage by April, when the new agreement goes into the books, if it does. Nothing is certain. Not in these times. But as it stands right now, it seems as though your services won’t be needed in this matter of personal ruination.

Thank you for your interest. I will await word as to whether this letter made it to the right crowd and has affected my situation in a positive manner.

Hopefully, in just a few short decades, we will all think back on these dastardly times and say with a sentimental lilt, “foreclose and seven years ago…”

Yours in debt,

Corby Anderson
129 Brookside Place
Marina, CA
93933

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