Optional introductory content here.
- THE SMELL OF BATHROOMS
- THE CROCKER ROCKER CONSPIRACY
Bathrooms are notorious for their bad smell. This is because humans shit and piss in them. But as bad as feces and urine smell, they could smell worse. Today, I noticed my work’s bathroom smelled like shrimp. It was very unsettling.
Here are the weirdest letters I’ve ever received. I got them over winter break my senior year of college. No idea who Max Turnipseed is, or what any of this stuff means.
This one is my favorite. Notice in “Article 6-Purpose” it says, “All three corporate entities are involved in the process of dividing the world population into three separate but interlocking categories: 1.) CROCKERS; 2.) ROCKERS; and 3.) CRACKERS.”
Anyway, my friends and I tried to make sense out of them, but never could. I talked to one of my professor’s whose business card was copied onto one of the pages, and he too said he got some of these letters. He told the campus police, but they never found anyone. I eventually forgot about the letters.
Then a few weeks ago, my girlfriend’s boss got one of the letters. She instantly recognized it as one of the work of Max Turnipseed. But unfortunately, she couldn’t get a hold of it. Renewing my interest in the letters, I took these pictures and posted them on reddit. Here’s one of the responses I got:
I’m the guy in Austin who received letters from the Crocker Rocker guy at my bar. Instead of carrying on a personal conversation via a public thread, I figured I’d shoot a PM your way.
Agreed, this guy is just a bit off. Thought you might enjoy this account of my personal interactions with him.
The first time I met this guy he stopped in randomly for a beer one day while I was working. At the time, I thought he was a little off. I wasn’t sure if he was drunk or just a weird guy. As a man in my late 20s, I gave him the benefit of the doubt (having been brought up to respect my elders) and served him a beer. He talked a little crazy, but I let it slide for a drink before he went on his way of his own volition.
A few weeks later, I arrived at work around 11 am only to find him having a conversation with my main cleaning crew guy (who worked for a third party we had hired). The problem was that he was speaking through a massive hole in my front door to my contract custodian. Come to find out, he had knocked a door panel loose with his shoulder whilst leaning against it trying to pry the double doors apart to slip one of these letters in between them. They were having quite the exchange (since my custodian spoke broken English). The author seemed a little taken aback that I was upset with him about breaking my door. I asked him why he didn’t just drop the letter in the mailbox, and he replied that he had had several letters returned when he mailed them to us. This likely had to do with the fact that his letters were addressed to a non-existent street address, but obviously no mailman is going to take his letter out of my mailbox, even if it has no postage attached. I ended up taking his letter and asking him to move along, after which I helped my custodian repair the door.
Apparently he had sent some letters to the bar before I was the GM and several of my regulars, as well as one bartender in particular, were already familiar with him. None of us had any real idea about how to interpret his correspondence for…well…reasons you can relate to, I’m sure.
Since then, we’ve received (I believe) 3 letters from him containing some ridiculous content. One was particularly eyebrow raising when it included a seeming threat to some official (DA, I believe — I don’t have the letter in front of me as I type this) in Colorado after and in regards to the Aurura, Colorado shooting last summer. I had a lawyer friend in Austin (to whom most of these letters were partially addressed — he is one of my regulars) put out some feelers to some connections in Colorado regarding this correspondence. He never heard much back, so we figured they didn’t consider it a serious threat (the man is in his 80s, after all).
We haven’t heard from him in some time. The last letter we received (which I think I featured in one of the pictures I posted) was postmarked from Las Vegas. I don’t know if this information is of use to you or not, but I thought I’d throw it out there. Feel free to write back if you like.
Anyway, it sounds like Max Turnipseed—or whatever his real name is—is a schizophrenic octogenarian with a lot of time, business cards, and paper living in Las Vegas.
I realize it’s way too late to be talking about the YOLO phenomenon. In case you too missed it, YOLO stands for “You Only Live Once.” Last Spring is when the life affirming acronym really ascended. It was printed on t-shirts, texted by pre-teens, and inked onto forearms. According to Google Trends, the optimal time to write this would have been April 18th, 2012. I guess I didn’t seize that day. You know who else didn’t? Rolos’ PR department. Yeah, because Rolo rhymes with YOLO. Should I eat some Rolos? Why not? YOLO. ROLO BECAUSE YOLO! Can you believe they missed out on that slogan?
Yesterday, (and today and pretty much everyday for the last year) I ate at Chipotle. As I finished shoving the unwieldy remains of a burrito into my mouth, I noticed an employee cleaning tables while wearing a lanyard patterned with neon YOLOs. I thought to myself, what was her thought process when she looked at it? You only live once, so I’m going to carpe the diem by scrubbing burrito residue off tables? Forget societal pressures and responsibility, I’m going to do what I want to do! And that’s…working the late shift at Chipotle. I don’t think she’s stupid or blame her for working at Chipotle. But I don’t believe she’s really seizing the day. I’m not crazy about my job either. But then again, I don’t have a YOLO lanyard.