LITERARY SPOILSPORT

Reference Letter to the Board of Directors

The Board of Directors
Morningside East Co-op Apartments
100th & Manhattan Avenue

Dear Members of the Board,

I first met Dana Dallard last year at this shitty dive on the Lower East Side after our set. Man, I was so fucked up that night. I could barely see straight; and Dana (or as the other guys in the band call her, “Double-D Dana” or “Dana Insane-a”) spent some time talking to me. She didn’t look like all the other groupies we get. At first, I thought she was hitting on my singer, but like I said, I was pretty wasted. Funny thing is, I blacked out and woke up in her apartment! Is that crazy or what? We totally slept together and I barely remember it. And you want to know something? Dana was way cool about it. And you know what else? Dana keeps a beautiful apartment—spotless. She totally recycled all those beer cans and jars of Everclear we killed. It’s like so clean there, you’d think she has a neurosis or something; which probably explains all the bottles of pills in her bathroom. Seriously, though, that woman is neat-freak. I remember how terrible I felt when I blew chunks all over her carpet. But just to show you what a wonderful lady she is—and one more reason you’d want this chick to live in your building—she just shrugged it off and started cleaning. I guess with all the different guys she picks up and brings home after concerts, she’s pretty used to it. If you didn’t know her, you’d think she’s just another a trippy rock-chick obsessed with musicians; but to strangers, (or as she likes to put it, “People I haven’t slept with yet…”), she’s a wonderful lady who keeps a clean apartment who just happens to love loud, aggressive biker music. And guitarists. Since then, I’ve considered her a really good, close friend.

Hey—you know what? One time I even saw her fixing up the tulips on the sidewalk outside of her place. Turns out she just dropped some pills. But you know, she took the time to make the flowers look like they hadn’t been stomped on, and if you ask me, that’s the kind of chick you want to move in: someone who cares about her environment, inside and out. I don’t know what she does for a living, or how she scored the nug to get into a posh place like your building; but I’m pretty sure that with all the guys she knows, she can always borrow a few bucks to make the maintenance fees every month. Everybody loves Dana, you know? Or they try to! So, yeah; I couldn’t imagine another person as worthy of this opportunity. She’s not total skank, or a bitch like other chicks. Even with the black eyes. Plus she’s got a huge rack—so there’s that! Dana is the shit!

Hey! If you ever get a chance, come see our band at CBs. We play every weekend. We’re called, The All-American Nazis. It’s kinda funny about our name, because we’re not affiliated with any real Nazis and we don’t hate the Jews. It’s about the music. Our drummer, Brendt—he hates Jews, though, but he kicks a mean kit, so we’re stuck with him. Anyway, Dana will be there—she’s always there—so come down and catch some earsplitting rock and we’ll do some shots or some shit like that.

Rock Forever And Rock Free!

\m/ \m/

Rick Stanley
Guitarist, the All-American Nazis

Mick Stingley has been published in The New York Post, Hustler Busty, CLUB, Men's Fitness, and FHM. He is a regular contributor to KNAC.com as a reviewer/low-rent rock critic. He also writes artist bios for Atlantic Records and probably reads The New York Times way, way too much.