Dear Luke, We Need to Talk, Darth: And Other Pop Culture Correspondences - Softcover

JOHN MOE is the host of American Public Media's nationally syndicated public radio show “Wits.” He is also the author of “Pop Song Correspondences,” a column on McSweeneys.net. He lives in St. Paul, Minnesota.

Attention, all law enforcement in the region:

I realize many of you have become cynical about the all-points bulletins issued for dangerous criminals. I’m sure you think they’re essentially all the same and that only the names have changed. But I urge you to pay close attention in your pursuit of Mr. Jon Bon Jovi. He’s wanted. Wanted dead or alive.

Who is Bon Jovi? Well, to begin with, he’s a cowboy. Granted, it’s fairly routine for cowboys to run afoul of the law, especially in the winter, when the work and money dry up and they’ve got time on their hands. Plenty of petty theft, public intoxication, and lewd-behavior calls. But that’s not what we’re up against. Bon Jovi is no regular cowboy. He rides a horse made of steel. A steel horse.

I am not shitting you.

And don’t think this is some sort of comical clunky robot horse with whimsical hydraulic sound effects and extraneous flashing lights. This thing is exactly like a thoroughbred, only much larger and made from an incredibly resilient alloy. Bullets can’t even penetrate this horse, much less stop it. Bon Jovi is also armed with a loaded six-string that he carries on his back. Reports differ on whether he uses it as a sort of crossbow or whether it’s actually a guitar that he plays with such shocking mastery as to render victims helpless. Regardless, take heed.

There is other information I need to share with you about Bon Jovi. And no matter how callous you think you are to the attributes of criminals, you may want to brace yourself. Bon Jovi has almost superhuman abilities. Sure, sometimes he sleeps, but sometimes he can go for days without doing so. Days! To compensate for this interruption in his circadian rhythms, Bon Jovi has evidently crafted some sort of alcohol-based calendar, where he can actually tell the day by the bottle that he drinks.

So why are we looking for Bon Jovi? Why is he wanted, wanted dead or alive? A spree of face rocking. Estimates vary as to how many faces have been targeted—some say 800,000, some say 1.2 million—but it is accepted as a fact that he has rocked every single face he has seen. Every one of them. We’re not even clear on a motive for this mass face rocking, although there are reports of Bon Jovi complaining of faces that “are so cold.”

Will he stop at a million faces? How many will be enough? We can’t afford to find out.

Now all this being said, if you should come in contact with Bon Jovi, do not look into his face. He will only rock it. And call for backup immediately.

Good luck to you all. At this point, I have to be honest. We’re living on a prayer.

Sincerely, Sgt. H. Locklear

Bruce: A Shark’s Journal

April 7

So this is the journal that I’m supposed to be writing in, as prescribed by my latest

therapist. I hope it helps but I have to be honest, I doubt it will. I WANT TO STOP

EATING EVERYONE! That’s it! That’s all I want! I’ve been through—what—five

therapists now trying to fix this problem I have? And I’ve eaten three of those

therapists. I can’t form any meaningful relationships with anyone because sooner or

later, CHOMP. It’s got to stop. I want to do things. I want to get married. I want to swim

up to a female and impregnate her. But for any of that to work, the killing simply has

got to stop. And I’m nervous because summer is coming up. Maybe this summer will be

different.

May 2

This summer WILL be different. THIS SUMMER MUST BE DIFFERENT!

May 12

How could the summer be different?! I’m a SHARK. A GREAT WHITE SHARK. A nonstop

killing machine! NO! No. I am in control here. Biology is not destiny. I have to think

positive. I can be any kind of nonstop machine I want to be. A nonstop caring ma-

chine. A nonstop listening machine. A nonstop nurturing machine.

May 31

Tourists are showing up. I ate kelp and seaweed today. I’ve read, like, three books this

week just to keep my mind off things. Jacqueline Susann. Better than I expected.

June 14

Okay. Deep breath. I’m ashamed to even be writing this. But I fell off the wagon

BIG TIME.

It was night and I was swimming around (I don’t sleep), and I thought

everything would be fine because what human would be out in the ocean at night?

Then this lady shows up swimming around. Naked! Now, I’m not into human chicks in

a sexual way—I’m not a perv or anything—but I see that and I’m thinking, “no nylon

swimsuits, no goggles to deal with, just dinner.”
I’m not blaming the victim here—I’M NOT—she has/had the right to swim wherever,

whenever, wearing whatever she wanted. But I could not resist. And thus, chomp.

I was so disgusted with myself that I couldn’t even eat all of her. I dumped her mangled

remains on the beach, kind of as a way of saying sorry to the humans. I hope they were

able to pick up on how contrite I was when they saw her carcass.

June 23

Guilt does funny things to a shark. When I feel guilty about something (like, oh,

EATING A WOMAN), I start to hate myself. When I start to hate myself, I engage in

self-destructive behavior. If I were a human (like the one I ATE), that might mean eat-

ing a bunch of ice cream or getting drunk. But I’m a shark and I dragged a boy from

shore and ate him up. He was smaller than my previous meal, but, I don’t know, it still

doesn’t feel like progress to me. It’s like the only way I can feel good is to do bad?

June 26

There’s no doubt about it: I’m spiraling. Sank a boat today. Ate the captain. Most of

him anyway. Started innocently enough. I saw the boat out there on the water, and I

remembered what I read in a self-help book: “use your tongue instead of your teeth.” I

figured I could swim up and talk to the guy about my issues. Maybe he could provide

some help from a human perspective.

Then before I know it he’s whapping me on the nose, which is NOT COOL, and one thing

led to another. Suddenly I was on the attack. I need to remember that it’s not enough

to want to reach people. I have to understand how I’m coming across to them as well.

But why do all my conflicts end with eating people? Why is that always my end-

game? Maybe because I’m a Great White Shark but I don’t ACCEPT that destiny as an

ABSOLUTE.

July 5

Ate another dude. Maybe I was still mad at the boat captain. Or mad at my mother

who birthed me and then just swam away. Or mad at myself.

I also know that the people are on to me. They’re upset. And they’re coming for me and

it’s not to talk things over. You see what I’ve done here: I’VE TAUGHT THEM TO KILL.

It’s a cycle. Like, who’s the real monster here? Is it me, the shark, or is it those people

who want to kill me? Realistically, I know it’s me. I wish it weren’t.

July 7

Yeah, they’re coming for me. I should just head out to the greater ocean and put Long

Island behind me. Somehow I can’t. I think I need closure. Whether that will come

from eating every person who comes near the water or being harpooned I can’t say.

But I see their boat. Looks like there’s an old sea captain, a sort of wild-eyed young

researcher, and Roy Scheider on it. I’m going to them. One way or another, we’re going

to end this thing.

(journal ends)

Jay Z’s 99 Problems

1. Someone might figure out the Z stands for Zippy.

2. Missing Golden Girls DVD box set.

3. People pronouncing my name “Jaze.”

4. Don’t really enjoy rap music.

5. Rap patrol on gat patrol.

6. A bitch. Ha! Gotcha. No, just kidding. It’s mosquitos.

7. Overall concern over the direction of the Dr. Who franchise.

8. Where to dump Hal Linden’s body.

9. Ficus plant seems droopy.

10. Do I have enough sunglasses?

11. Is it possible to EVER have enough sunglasses?

12. If not, have I set myself up for a life without satisfaction where a thousand sunglasses will never be as good as two thousand sunglasses?

13. How can I go about buying all the sunglasses?

14. How do I persuade everyone else in the world to destroy or give me their sunglasses so no one else can ever have sunglasses?

15. These grapes taste weird.

16. Inconvenient money allergy.

17. Ventriloquism classes not going well. Can’t nail the B sound.

18. Rap critics that say I’m money, cash, hoes.

19. The U.S. can’t seriously compete in Olympic table tennis.

20. Hoses on the soda fountain that dispense champagne are getting all gummed up.

21. Are my shiny things as shiny as they could be?

22. How do I go about firing my shiny thing shiner?

23. Do I have a human resources person I need to talk to first?

24. How do I advertise for a new shiny things shiner? Craigslist? Seems wrong.

25. What kind of questions do you ask someone like that in an interview?

26. Pet tiger seems bored.

27. Other pet tiger unaccounted for (note: they don’t really play fetch. Not in the classical sense.)

28. Have to get more gazelle for tiger(s), stocks running low.

29. Fools that want to make sure my casket’s closed.

30. Martin Mull’s a good actor. Why can’t he get a series?

31. Beyoncé’s former Destiny’s Child bandmates still “crashing” in the rec room. It’s been three months.

32. Chafing.

33. Art Garfunkel won’t return my calls.

34. Might lose favorite rhyming dictionary someday and career will be over.

35. I’m rich, happily married, popular, and respected. I guess this is more a brag than a problem.

36. Potty mouth.

37. What if there’s someone left in the world who doesn’t know who I am?

38. The ending of The Sopranos.

39. The ending of According to Jim.

40. Music is fine, but should I have stayed in the crack-dealing business?

41. How much would it cost to shrink a rhino to the size of a small dog to keep as a pet?

42. Who can do that for me?

43. How do I get a hold of that rhino-shrinking person?

44. Could I give shrunken rhino pets as gifts to friends or is that presumptuous?

45. What would I name my shrunken rhino pet? “Killer”? “Tupac”? “Pointy”?

46. What if all my fans start shrinking down rhinos to copy me and then they can’t take care of them and abandon them? Because that would be a lot of guilt on me for starting this thing.

47. Could I just have a rhino horn surgically grafted on to a dog? Might be easier.

48. Beyoncé isn’t very supportive when it comes to my interest in exotic pets.

49. Toothpaste tubes look all ugly.

50. No one sells a toothpaste tube encrusted in diamonds.

51. Jerks at Crest don’t take my ideas seriously.

52. Rap mags try and use my black ass so advertisers can give ’em more cash for ads.

53. Do I sometimes come across as a little arrogant to people?

54. Constant thoughts that I should go back and get my bachelor’s degree just in case.

55. Shamrock Shake only available once a year.

56. Beyoncé might be too pretty all the time, if that’s actually a thing.

57. Sometimes I don’t know what’s actually a thing.

58. No one’s written a “These Are Things” book or made a “These Are Things” rap video.

59. Sucker MCs.

60. Tim Conway films only sporadically available on Blu-Ray.

61. Solid gold helicopter can’t even get off the ground because it’s too heavy.

62. Same with solid gold hovercraft.

63. Solid gold submarine sinks just fine, but can’t get back up to surface without being pulled by a solid gold cable.

64. Purchased Argentina but I lack a real understanding of the country’s politics and culture.

65. Started several wars with other South American nations modeled on rap beefs.

66. Responsible for the deaths of thousands of citizens.

67. After I resigned as President of Argentina, Justin Timberlake wouldn’t accept the position no matter how nicely I asked.

68. Neither would Kanye.

69. Or DMX.

70. Or LeBron James.

71. Going to have to sell Argentina at a loss and play two or even three concerts to make back money.

72. Fear of ants (they don’t have faces).

73. Can’t get that “I Want My Baby Back” Chili’s jingle out of my head.

74. Can’t figure out a way to at least rap over it and release it as a single to pay for a new head.

75. Cat keeps looking at me weird.

76. Cat won’t wear diamond-encrusted mask.

77. Am a werewolf.

78. Body may be rejecting transplanted spine made of gold.

79. Gold spine sometimes sets off alarms at airports.

80. Can’t find a good novel to read. John Grisham just seems to be repeating himself.

81. The mumps.

82. Damn public radio pledge drives.

83. Subscription to McSweeney’s Quarterly ran out and Dave Eggers never told me (will take it up with him at book club.)

84. Worry someone will discover that I’m secretly a member of Bon Iver.

85. Making sure Beyoncé and I buy Blue Ivy the right school.

86. Concerned that my daughter will feel like she has to go into entertainment like her parents. She can do anything she wants as long as she’s the best in the world at it.

87. Giraffes sure look freaky. What if one gets into the house and chases me?

88. Can’t find anyone to kill all the giraffes.

89. Can’t find anyone to cover all the giraffes with thick black curtains.

90. Can’t find anyone to affix electronic sensors to giraffes so that if they get too close to the house a big WHOOOOOP-WHOOOOOP sound goes off.

91. −12x − 4 = −103

92. Can’t figure out bus schedule.

93. These hover beans don’t work because I can’t hover.

94. When I’m chewing the finest gum in the world—which costs $10,000 a stick—and someone asks me for a piece of gum and I give it to them and that’s fine but maybe they don’t appreciate how fancy and valuable that gum is.

95. Plot holes in Gremlins that I’m going to have to address before the feature film marionette reboot I’m directing.