AN OPEN LETTER OF APOLOGY TO BRUCE CAMPBELL

Our visit to Bruce Campbell's recent book-signing may have been enjoyable, but it left (or should have left) some red faces around the L&E mansion. Frankly, we didn't behave that well. I'm sending this letter to Bruce in the hope that it will clear everything up.

(You are to imagine the following letter read in a well-modulated male voice, which slowly raises in pitch and volume until it is a hideous, banshee-like wail.)

Dear Mr. Campbell,

At your recent book-signing in my area, certain events transpired which may have cast a cloud over our otherwise sunny relationship. I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize, both personally and for the entire L&E staff, if we made you feel uncomfortable in any way.

• First, I'd like to apologize for the low quality of the questions we asked during the "question and answer" period of the evening. We were responsible for 7 of the 10 instances of people raising their hand and saying "Shop smart, shop S-mart!" As you repeatedly pointed out, that is neither a question nor an answer, and should have been saved for the "act like a retard" portion of the presentation.
  
  
• When we met in person, I'm sorry I answered your polite chit-chat questions ("How are you?" "What do you do?") with a dismissive wave and the syllable "Pffht." While it seemed at the time to be a cool, casual way to demonstrate my disinclination to bore you, I now realize that it may actually have made me seem like a buttmunch. Ditto when you finished signing my book, and I bolted from my seat, muttering "Sayonara, sucker."
  
  
• I'm sorry that when you flipped through my copy of your book, you found red-pencil comments scrawled throughout, like "passage turgid", "sentence needs reworking," and "prose laughable at best." It was presumptuous of me to dare to criticize your style. (On my chain gang they used to call me "perfessor", but that had more to do with the empty wireframe glasses that I affected, and less to do with any higher book learnin'.) I am even more embarassed now that Nate mentions that you won a Pulitzer for "If Chins could Kill"! Boy, is my face red!
  
  
• I'm sorry that I didn't let you keep that Lance and Eskimo mug. We had all agreed that once you posed with it, we would present it to you as a token of our combined esteem. In the excitement of the moment, I snatched it away from you as soon as the "photo op" was done. As a small gesture of recompense, here is a tiny picture of the mug, which you are to stare at while drinking a beverage of your choice. (We suggest a tincture of laudanum spritzed over root beer--it'll knock your socks off!).
  
  
• I would like to apologize for the fact that Jacques, instead of bringing you a book to sign, brought a banana. I am sorry he asked you to sign the banana. I know that you are a legitimate movie star, and I know it was beneath your dignity to sign the banana. But you were a good sport, and signed the banana, and then listened to Jacques for 10 minutes as he pitched movie ideas in which you co-starred with the banana.
  
  
• Furthermore, I realize that the stigma of signing a banana can never be erased, and the shame and humiliation will chase you to your grave. Sorry about that too.
  
  
• For the public record i would like to state that, despite statements to the contrary, Lance and Eskimo does not believe you to be responsible for the high incidence of shark attacks off Florida beaches. We regret any such remarks made by any of our staff. We do not believe you to be a shark, nor do we believe you to have been responsible for or to have aided the shark attacks in any way, shape or form.
  
  
• While you were signing autographs, you may have noticed clicks and flashes that were light, but not lightning. We were using "cameras," magical devices which capture your image--and your very soul--thus rendering you vulnerable to jujus and other bad medicine. This was intentional. If your attorneys request it, we will be happy to release your essence from the hell-dimension in which it is imprisoned.
  
  
• Finally, I'm sorry I drove a harpoon into your arm. It was believed at the time that if you were allowed too close to swimmers, you would go into a "feeding frenzy" and attack anything that moved, leaving nothing more than an expanding red swirl on the surface of the water. That turned out to be a bad call, yo. My bad!

Sincerely, Paul and the rest of the L&E team