Josh Abraham

Josh Abraham was born in Algeria in 1913. He spent his early years in North Africa, working various jobs--in the weather bureau, in an automobile-accessory firm, in a shipping company--to help pay for his courses at the University of Algiers. As a young journalist, his report on the unhappy state of Muslims in the Kabylie region aroused the Algerian government to action and brought him public notice. From 1935 to 1938 he ran the Théâtre de l'Equipe, a theatrical company that produced plays by Malraux, Gide, Synge, and Dostoevsky. During World War II he was one of the leading writers of the French Resistance and editor of Combat, then an important underground newspaper. Abraham's fiction, his philosophical essays, and his plays have assured his preëminent position in modern French letters. In 1957 Abraham was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature. His sudden death on January 4, 1960, cut short the career of one of the most important literary figures of the Western world when he was at the very summit of his powers. No, wait. That was Albert Camus.

— Fiction —

Closing Statements from the Castaways’ Presidential Debate

The weather reports remained unread in the Skipper’s cabin, and the Minnow WAS lost.

— Fiction —

Some Failed Parodies of Nicholson Baker's Checkpoint

William Shakespeare's Chequepoint Clement's Inn London August, 1479 jay: By and by, I say that King Edward IV art the veriest varlet that ever chewed with a tooth. benvolio: Yeah, but whattaya gonna do? jay: It makes us, or...

— Letters (from) —

Dear Heinz Ketchup, Pt. II

Heinz “Say Something Ketchuppy! II” Contest Entries P.O. Box 5075 Clinton, Iowa 52736-5075 Dear Heinz Ketchup, How’ve you been? It’s been too long. I’m sorry I never replied to your last correspondence. I was real busy for a while, you...

— Letters (from) —

Dear Sam Raimi

Last evening, I attended a midnight screening of the première of Spider-Man 2. I arrived at the theater full of optimistic glee and peanut M&Ms. Three minutes into the film, both were expended. Sam, I won’t sugarcoat it: the movie sucked hard.

— Fiction —

Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen in: “Mary-Kate & Ashley Turn 18!”

: Happy birthday, Mary-Kate! : I’m Ashley, you stupid head. : Wait, I thought I was Ashley! : You dyed your hair brown to tell us apart. : Oh yeah, I forgot! See, when I look at you, I...

— Letters (from) —

Eat, Shoot, & Leave This!: Dear Lynne Truss

Dear crazy Ms. Truss, Jeepers, lady, have you gone totally bonkers? On page 172 of Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation, your chipper, chirpy handbook for the pathologically meticulous, you recommend punctuating as follows: 4 Though it...

— Fiction —

Teenage Jesus

Yes! Look at me, everybody, I did it again! Here, give me another glass of water. Ka-pow! Presto! Behold: one glass of Fresca. I’m awesome!...

— Letters (from) —

Dear Nesquik

Dear Nesquik (née Nestlé Quik),
I've been drinking your chocolatey-flavored milk since before I was even born. Of all liquids on the planet, your chocolatey-flavored milk is my favorite, surpassing even soapy water, turpentine, or Colt 45. I've won numerous Nestlé Quik-chugging contests ...

— Letters (from) —

Dear Outback Steakhouse

Dear Outback Steakhouse, I believe you owe me something in the neighborhood of 85 bucks for the three days in August of 1997 that I served as a waiter-in-training in one of your fine establishments. A scuffle regarding the unapproved...

— Non-Fiction —

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

Monopoly, Scrabble, Clue, Battleship, Boggle, Yahtzee, Sorry, a Ouija board, Trivial Pursuit, Hungry Hungry Hippos ...

— Fiction —

No. 9 Dream

Doctor, I’m having that dream again. I’m in a band—an old-timey band from, like, the 50s, and we’re on stage, behind the curtain, just moments before showtime. Ed Sullivan is introducing us, and I’m freaking out, because I’m on drums—and...

— Fiction —

The Great Gob in the Sky

Nobody knew for certain what the great gob in the sky was. The town’s elders, advised by a think tank of scientists, declared it a mass of jelly; the pundits, typically critical, argued it was jam. The general populace more...

— Fiction —

Thank You for Being So Understanding about That Partial Prefrontal Lobotomy

Dear Mr. Trumbull, I write this letter on behalf of Doctors Epstein, Wilcox, and Goldfarb, who performed your operation; the radiology and anesthesia departments; our wonderful nursing staff who diligently tended to your convalescent needs; our legal advisors; as well...

— Fiction —

Evolution

It was a bleak and bitter winter morning. Gronk and Yorg emerged from their cave, wrapped in woolly mammoth hides. They sat before the cave’s mouth, huddled together for warmth, and dug their fingers into the frozen earth to find...

— Non-Fiction —

Hollywood Interruption

10:00 a.m. Hi. This is me, Josh, coëditor of Y.P.R. How are you all? Good? Good. Me, I’m tired and slightly delirious. Today, I’m forcibly interrupting the normal progress of Y.P.R. to say hello to you all directly (as I’ve...

— Fiction —

Postmodern Irony Final Exam

PMI-110A: Introduction to Postmodern Irony/Ironic Postmodernism Final Exam Section IV: Essay Please select one (1) topic from the first three questions, one (1) from the middle three questions, and one (1) from the last three questions. Answer each in the...

— Fiction —

The Nose

Ever since Wanda, my ex-fiancée, broke off the engagement in order to pursue her lifelong dream of marrying a marine biologist, I’d been keeping my bathtub fully stocked with goldfish, catfish, neon tetras, guppies—pretty much anything piscine and cheap. I...

— What's Up with That? —

Swiffer

Swiffer: it’s a stick, much like a broomstick, except at the business end, where you’d expect to see a broom or mop or something with pincers, there’s just this empty non-thing that doesn’t do anything until you wrap it with...

— Fiction —

How It Ended: My Last Four Relationships

Cecilia Cecilia shaved her head. I loved running my fingers through her long brown curls, but I have to admit, the bald was sexy too. Her skull was so round like a basketball. I couldn’t resist the urge to...

— How To —

Your Desk Is a Wonderland

Ninety-three percent of America's work force is surfing the Internet on their employers' dime. Of that percentage, nearly half will be reading this very article, (a quarter of whom have landed here unsuccessfully searching for "Bess Meyerson's nipples"). The remaining...

— What's Up with That? —

Boneless Spare Ribs

Now, I’m no doctor, but I've played enough rounds of Operation to know that ribs are bones. Boneless spare ribs, therefore, suggest a paradox of cosmic proportions. Can you have boneless femurs? No. Boneless tibias? I think not. Meatless pork?...

— Fiction —

Wedding Jitters

My dearest Alexandria, I’m sorry, my love, I hope you can forgive me . . . I want to call the wedding off. It’s not that I don’t love you, my little souvlaki, you know I do with all my...

— What's Up with That? —

Buffy's and Dawson's Farewells

Well, I tell you I had a hectic week: spent some days traveling, some working very late, and others drinking myself into a stupor. At some point, it occurred to me that I'd missed the series finale of "Dawson's Creek."...

— What's Up with That? —

Ari and Aaron Exit Stage Right

Well, it looks like it’s the week for Jews in the media whose name starts with “Ar” or “Aar” to leave the White House or, at least, a recreation of the White House on a Warner Bros. studio lot. Frankly,...

— What's Up with That? —

The Matrix Reloaded

Well, The Matrix Reloaded has finally arrived, and gosh durn it, it did not disappoint. You couldn't ask for more breathtaking eye candy--truly inimitable, groundbreaking special effects, the stuff that really gets your blood pumping, your heart pounding, your sweat...

— How To —

Ransom-Note Writing Tips

You’ve worked hard perfecting your elaborate plan, keeping tabs on your subject, selecting your tools and accomplices, running practice drills, forging documents . . . but have you forgotten the most important part of your heist or kidnapping scheme? Too...

— Letters (from) —

Dear KTU

WKTU 103.5 P.O. Box 630 New York, NY 10277-1747 Dear KTU, You fine gents truly are the beat of New York! And how! Now and again, whilst puttering along the Belt Parkway in my brand new motorcar, I'm wont to...

— Letters (from) —

Dear Spam

Dear Spam,
I love your meatlike product! It is delicious! I've eaten a spambled-eggs breakfast five days a week since ’58. These days, I can't even stomach the taste of real pork anymore! I'm not kosher or anything, but give me Spam over God's genuine pork any day . . .

— Fiction —

To the Chap Who Finds This Bottled-Enclosed Message

To the chap who finds this bottled-enclosed message: Hello there, good sir! I trust you are safely upon sturdy ground and, I dare hope, doing well. Alas, I am not faring as solidly as you, old chap. You see, I...

— Letters (from) —

Dear N.Y.T.B.R. Pt. V

The Editor The New York Times Book Review 229 West 43rd Street New York, N.Y. 10036 April 6, 2003 Dear N.K.O.T.B., All through the dark of night, I lurked by my local newsstand, half hidden by the milk crates and...

— Fiction —

Mistakes I've Made . . .

"Ten bucks? I don't know . . . Well . . . You look like an honest sidewalk showman . . ." "I bet I could eat a whole bucket of clams . . ." "Oooh, look: a black kitty...

— Letters (from) —

Dear N.Y.T.B.R. Pt. IV

The Editor The New York Times Book Review 229 West 43rd Street New York, N.Y. 10036 March 30, 2003 Dear N.Y.T.B.R., You guys don’t want to acknowledge my book. Fine; I’m passed that. I do think it’s worth your while,...

— Letters (from) —

Dear N.Y.T.B.R. Pt. III

The Editor The New York Times Book Review 229 West 43rd Street New York, N.Y. 10036 March 23, 2003 Dear N.Y.T. Rook Beview, You want blurbs? I’ll give you blurbs. Behold: “Abraham displays a Swiftian gift for satire . ....

— Fiction —

Old-Timey Sales Pitch

Good people of Tulsa, today is your lucky day! That's right, I'm here just until sunset, then I'm heading up east to Missoura. So step right up and witness with your own eyes the marvelous medicinal miracle I'm about to...

— Letters (from) —

Dear Froot Loops

Kellogg Company P.O. Box CAMB Battle Creek, MI 49016-1986 Dear Toucan Sam, America is facing some tumultuous times, economically, socially, politically. The winds of change blow, and the good or ill effects are not always within our control. In times...

— Letters (from) —

Dear HBO

Dear Home Box Office,
I love the HBO. Love it. Your award-winning original programming rocks my socks. Your hit movies also have a rocking effect on my socks. But the thing is, your little catchphrase slogan, "It's Not TV, It's HBO," keeps me awake at night. Because, you see, it is TV...

— Letters (from) —

Dear N.Y.T.B.R. Pt. II

The Editor The New York Times Book Review 229 West 43rd Street New York, N.Y. 10036 March 16, 2003 Dear N.Y. Times Book Review, What gives? Another week passes and still you ignore my amazing novel, Clams Casino. Look, I...

— Fiction —

Sticky Situation

Why is Krazy Glue dangerous, you ask? Well, as you can plainly see, I have a long-tailed South African scorpion stuck to the palm of my left hand. He hasn't stung me yet, but he will, he will, just wait....

— Letters (from) —

Dear Oxford

Dear Oxford University,
Listen, I'm in a bit of a bind here, Oxford, and I could sure use your help. You see, what started as an innocent little white lie six months ago ("Why, yes, I can steer a tugboat...") has snowballed, as lies often do, into an elaborate web, which has become very tangled, and is not like a snowball at all...

— Letters (from) —

Dear N.Y.T.B.R., Pt. I

The Editor The New York Times Book Review 229 West 43rd Street New York, N.Y. 10036 March 8, 2003 Dear New York Times Book Review, Surely you’ve heard of me and my little novel, Clams Casino. The literati are ranting...

— Letters (from) —

Dear Maxell

Dear Maxell MF 2HD High Density 3.5" Floppy Disks, Your disks are so awesome! I love them more than hot dogs. When I’ve got one of your fine, fine High Density 3.5” Floppy Disks in my hand, I know I’ve...

— Letters (from) —

Dear M&M's

M&M's/MARS Attn: Consumer Affairs Department 800 High Street Hackettstown, N.J. 07840 Dear Green M&M, Your chocolate candies are so freaking great! Seriously, I love them as if they were my own little, multi-colored, chocolate children. You guys blow Skittles away,...

— Fiction —

Ask Professor Quark

[Taken from Popular Science, May 1958] Dear Professor Quark, Do you believe there is life on other planets? -- Timothy, Bakersfield, California Well, Timothy, we do not know for sure if there are little green men in Outer Space,...

— Letters (from) —

Dear AOL

Dear AOL,
I heard that you and your Time Warner cronies lost a bundle a while back--something like 54 billion clams, the biggest quarterly loss in earth's history. That's like the gross national product of Uruguay or Bulgaria. Wowzers. I empathize with you, AOL. I can relate, sort of: I had fulsome losses at Harrah's, in Atlantic City, this weekend, my biggest quarterly loss in history...

— Letters (from) —

Dear Coca-Cola

Dear Coca-Cola,
I'm a big fan of Tito Puente (who isn't?) and of Coca-Cola (again, who isn't?). Both are refreshingly satisfying: T.P., to my ears, and C-C, to my mouth. Yesterday, I took a trip to Spanish Harlem, to check the discount bin of Señor Umberto's Dis-Count Salsa CD Shack ...

— Letters (from) —

Dear Dr. Zizmor

Dear Dr. Zizmor,
I've seen your rainbow-colored advertisements plastered all over the 4, the 5, and the F trains. You're the most famous dermatologist underneath New York City! You're right up there along with ...

— Letters (from) —

Dear the Gap

Gap Customer Relations 100 Gap Online Drive Grove City, Ohio 43123-8605 Dear the Gap, I’m working on a screenplay for a major motion picture that will be coming soon to a theater near you. I write this letter to invite...

— Letters (from) —

Dear Starbucks

Dear Starbucks people,
If you take three of anything that are different sizes, the laws of physics dictate that you have to have one that is the biggest one and one that is the smallest one. The leftover one is the middle one. This law will hold true for all things: three apples, three oranges, three cups of coffee, or even . . .

— Fiction —

The Semi-Private Thoughts of Connie Chung

12:08 p.m. I can't believe I slept till two o'clock. I'm so hung over. Where's Maury? My head hurts. 12:15 p.m. Oh, it's twelve, not two. Whew. Thank God. What do I have to do today? Hmmm. Nothing. Good. Where's...

— Fiction —

Five-Second Theater Proudly Presents Play on Words: A Drama in One Act

The Scene: A book-lined study. Two bearded, bespectacled men write pages with pen and ink. The tall one is MERRIAM and the short, WEBSTER. They are in a heated discussion, yet neither looks up from his notes. Merriam: I just...

— Fiction —

That One Time I (an American) Called England (a Country in Europe)

[Following is a transcription of a telephone call in which I, a fat, lazy American, had to speak with a business associate in England (a country in Europe). The transcription is as honest and accurate as memory serves.] Englishman: (speaking...

— Fiction —

A Miramax Development Executive’s Notes on My Date Last Night

-- More cleavage on the girl.

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