Letters from the edge—and beyond

Mike Price is currently on high-powered pain medication. And we know there are mistakes in the first two letters. We left them in on purpose, so please refrain from sending letters to the editor regarding the difference between “whose” and “who’s.” Thank you.

Dear Mr. Boegle,

Please excuse Michaelangelo for being a teeny-weeny bit tardy with his column this morning. He couldn’t think straight last night after taking Percocet pain removers because he sprained his glottis helping his daddy and me paint our dog, Emory, who loves being Day-Glo Orange all over his body, but then, who wouldn’t?

Right now, even as you read these words, he is slamming keyboard buttons like crazy. It is nothing personal against you personally that his carefully crafted artistic prose will reach you a little late, so please don’t take a fence.

Hoping this finds you well and in a sunny, receptive, gullible mood,

Michaelangelo’s Mom

P.S.: Even though he insists on being called “Mike,” that don’t make him any less of a really good roof painter.

Dear Editor Boegle,

As you may have heard on the streets, Mike Price has reached new heights of incoherence after consuming a certain chemical medication which was prescribed by an real doctor whose been to doctor school and everything. I know this is true because I checked up on it and sure enough, he, the doctor guy, has stuff on his walls, stuff in frames, which proves he knows his onions, as we say in Sales & Marketing.

Warmest regards from me and Emory,

The Artist Formerly Known As Michaelangelo (because we didn’t know how to spell it the right way) Price’s Dad


Get rid of Price. He is a lunatic—a left-wing, Clinton-loving, liberal lunatic—who can’t even deliver his column on time because (a) he is a lunatic, and (b) I may have spilled a little super-glue on his keyboard while he was away in the hospital.

Hey, we had to break into his tacky little studio apartment. How else were we supposed find evidence?

And boy, did we ever find it!

There’s a photo on the wall of Price sitting on the floor of an art gallery, which proves he’s gay, and you can tell from the picture that he’s drinking an adult beverage while in some kind of conversation with a Hollywood actor, which proves he’s a dirty Commie.

As if that isn’t enough, there’s another picture of comrade pinko traitor Price in which he is clearly making a ni … an African-American television actor laugh, which proves he is for bussing.

Don’t worry, you can depend on me to report more about Price after he goes on the road this summer, which will give us time to finish going through his socks and underwear drawer.

Speaking of sex, Price has been known to have overnight guests of the female persuasion, which proves he is running an unlicensed hotel.

Also, Price caused our national power shortage, signed the petition to recall Mayor Jeff Griffin and made up that whole thing about FBI chief J. Edgar Hoover being a cross-dressing, practicing homosexual.

Yours for a more American America,



Is this late? It isn’t late, is it? I sure hope it isn’t late. What happened was that I wrote this swell column, “The Dos and Don’ts of Cordless Bungee Jumping,” but before I could hit the damn “Send” button, my dog, Emory, ate it.

Yeah, yeah, I know it’s short, but so is that guy whose married to the woman who used to play Carla the waitress, on Cheers.

And so is Dad and Emory. Mom’s, like, the size of a building.

Vaya con queso,