Letters to Untambe.
This week's column for the Gazette.
LETTERS TO UNTAMBE...PART TWO.
It’s been a while since I published my latest round of letters to Untambe, the African child I sponsor. For the price of a cup of coffee each month I provide food and medicine to a disadvantaged child and get a tax deduction.
Dear Untambe,
Thanks for your letter. Sounds like you had a good Christmas; as good as it could be with your family missing, that is. I’m glad the additional five dollars I donated in December convinced Santa to bring you some rice for Christmas. Sorry about the bugs in it; I have no control over that.
Do they just give you regular rice? Have you tried Rice-A-Roni? It’s the San Francisco treat!
I’ve been working and studying hard. Even though I recently took a huge pay cut, I’m still sacrificing several dollars each month to sponsor you. It’s worth it, though. The thought that I’m helping someone will look great on my transcript.
If the relief agency were smart they’d have corporations sponsor you. That way, every time Sally Struthers put you on T.V., you could wear a hat with the STP logo on it and make some money, like on NASCAR.
Just joking. They say laughter is the best medicine, which is a good thing since that truckload of antibiotics got bombed before it reached you.
Dear Untambe,
It’s January and 50 degrees here. How cool is that? Or warm, I should say. People complain about global warming, but speaking on behalf of the quarter million Twin Cities’ SUV drivers who commute 100 miles round trip each day, I say bring on the springlike weather!
I do miss the snow sometimes, though. It’s such a powerful feeling driving through a foot of snow at 70 miles per hour three inches from the bumper of a hybrid car. They usually have a Wellstone bumper sticker, the sissies. What would Wellstone do? He wouldn’t go 50 miles per hour in the passing lane, that’s for sure.
You’re all about carpooling there, aren’t you? I saw news coverage of a village near yours being evacuated and there were like 100 of you per flatbed truck. It’s considerate of you to think about the environment like that. I tried carpooling, but me and the people I rode with could never agree on what DVD to watch on the way to work.
Dear Untambe,
Stillwater is abuzz with fallout from newspaper coverage of a high school “Battle of the Bands” contest. Or should I say non-coverage? Kids and parents are upset because a picture of the winning band wasn’t featured in a newspaper story. I personally think the band got robbed and have good reason to be up in arms.
Speaking of up in arms, robbed and bands, I’m really sorry that armed bandits robbed the relief caravan before it reached your village. Civil war sucks. You’ll be lucky if you starve before you become a teenager. Take it from those poor kids in Stillwater; adolescence is tough, especially if you’re the sensitive musician-type.
Do you like bands? Has Bono visited you because of your starvation thing? Frankly, he gets on my nerves with his holier-than-thou attitude. I think Bono could single-handedly solve the world hunger problem by teaching people how to be full of themselves.
Dear Untambe,
Boy, new condominiums are sprouting up everywhere here. Sometimes I envy you, living in a thatch hut. It must be like living on Gilligan’s Island. My favorite Gilligan’s Island episode was the one where Russian cosmonauts landed there. I thought the space capsule was cool.
I never understood why the castaways wanted to leave the island, did you? It was like a tropical paradise and there were good-looking chicks there, too.
What do you think, Untambe: Maryann or Ginger?
Every time you send me pictures of your village—or wherever you happened to be displaced any given week—I think that it looks just like Gilligan’s Island, except with no water. Or trees. Or papayas.
Papayas is a fun word. Say it: Papayas!
Do the women in your village carry baskets on their heads like on PBS? Do they have those neck-stretcher things? I’m surprised neck-stretching hasn’t caught on here since tattoos and piercings are so passé.
I’ve always found it ironic that people here protest the female circumcision occurring in your country, but half of the protestors have piercings you-know-where. Ouch!
Well, I have to go. Tonight is Geography class. Last week I found your country on a globe, and I think I discovered your problem. To paraphrase the late comedian Sam Kinison: YOU LIVE IN A DESERT! GO WHERE THE FOOD IS!
Just kidding! Talk to you later.
Benevolently, Tom
LETTERS TO UNTAMBE...PART TWO.It’s been a while since I published my latest round of letters to Untambe, the African child I sponsor. For the price of a cup of coffee each month I provide food and medicine to a disadvantaged child and get a tax deduction.
Dear Untambe,
Thanks for your letter. Sounds like you had a good Christmas; as good as it could be with your family missing, that is. I’m glad the additional five dollars I donated in December convinced Santa to bring you some rice for Christmas. Sorry about the bugs in it; I have no control over that.
Do they just give you regular rice? Have you tried Rice-A-Roni? It’s the San Francisco treat!
I’ve been working and studying hard. Even though I recently took a huge pay cut, I’m still sacrificing several dollars each month to sponsor you. It’s worth it, though. The thought that I’m helping someone will look great on my transcript.
If the relief agency were smart they’d have corporations sponsor you. That way, every time Sally Struthers put you on T.V., you could wear a hat with the STP logo on it and make some money, like on NASCAR.
Just joking. They say laughter is the best medicine, which is a good thing since that truckload of antibiotics got bombed before it reached you.
Dear Untambe,
It’s January and 50 degrees here. How cool is that? Or warm, I should say. People complain about global warming, but speaking on behalf of the quarter million Twin Cities’ SUV drivers who commute 100 miles round trip each day, I say bring on the springlike weather!
I do miss the snow sometimes, though. It’s such a powerful feeling driving through a foot of snow at 70 miles per hour three inches from the bumper of a hybrid car. They usually have a Wellstone bumper sticker, the sissies. What would Wellstone do? He wouldn’t go 50 miles per hour in the passing lane, that’s for sure.
You’re all about carpooling there, aren’t you? I saw news coverage of a village near yours being evacuated and there were like 100 of you per flatbed truck. It’s considerate of you to think about the environment like that. I tried carpooling, but me and the people I rode with could never agree on what DVD to watch on the way to work.
Dear Untambe,
Stillwater is abuzz with fallout from newspaper coverage of a high school “Battle of the Bands” contest. Or should I say non-coverage? Kids and parents are upset because a picture of the winning band wasn’t featured in a newspaper story. I personally think the band got robbed and have good reason to be up in arms.
Speaking of up in arms, robbed and bands, I’m really sorry that armed bandits robbed the relief caravan before it reached your village. Civil war sucks. You’ll be lucky if you starve before you become a teenager. Take it from those poor kids in Stillwater; adolescence is tough, especially if you’re the sensitive musician-type.
Do you like bands? Has Bono visited you because of your starvation thing? Frankly, he gets on my nerves with his holier-than-thou attitude. I think Bono could single-handedly solve the world hunger problem by teaching people how to be full of themselves.
Dear Untambe,
Boy, new condominiums are sprouting up everywhere here. Sometimes I envy you, living in a thatch hut. It must be like living on Gilligan’s Island. My favorite Gilligan’s Island episode was the one where Russian cosmonauts landed there. I thought the space capsule was cool.
I never understood why the castaways wanted to leave the island, did you? It was like a tropical paradise and there were good-looking chicks there, too.
What do you think, Untambe: Maryann or Ginger?
Every time you send me pictures of your village—or wherever you happened to be displaced any given week—I think that it looks just like Gilligan’s Island, except with no water. Or trees. Or papayas.
Papayas is a fun word. Say it: Papayas!
Do the women in your village carry baskets on their heads like on PBS? Do they have those neck-stretcher things? I’m surprised neck-stretching hasn’t caught on here since tattoos and piercings are so passé.
I’ve always found it ironic that people here protest the female circumcision occurring in your country, but half of the protestors have piercings you-know-where. Ouch!
Well, I have to go. Tonight is Geography class. Last week I found your country on a globe, and I think I discovered your problem. To paraphrase the late comedian Sam Kinison: YOU LIVE IN A DESERT! GO WHERE THE FOOD IS!
Just kidding! Talk to you later.
Benevolently, Tom
posted by Admin Worm at 2:57 PM
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