Dear Reader

Dear Reader,

I have decided to expand the scope of illiterich as I have grown tired of transcribing letters, reading letters, and, according to my nosey neighbor, "stealing mail" (just try and prove it Mrs. Kowalchuk!). This means that illiterich will no longer solely be dedicated to my correspondence with friends, family, and Mrs. Kowalchuk's grandchildren. From now on you can expect to see following:

- Short essays

- Digital ephemera

- Implausible, misspelled, grammatically incorrect conspiracy theories (unles the vatican-holywood-OBAMA axis of LIAR's PERUSUCUTE's my AMERICAN FREEDOMS & takes away are GOD/JESUS given fireamrs and censorships me first)

- Kittens!Kittens!Kittens!

- Connecting with singles in your area

- Regular contributions from Nobel Laureate Orhan Pamuk

- Videos/pictures of people doing bloopers, getting seriously injured

- Page unavailable

- Kowalchuk family reunion photos (courtesy aunt Beth)

So tell all your friends about the good news: I've just been invited to Tammy Jenkin's (nee Kowalchuk) daughter's birthday! Also my blog will likely have some new content at some point in the future unless I get bored with it.

My New Agent

I just received a letter from my new agent, T.J. Chasely. He has really big plans for me.

Hey Rich,
Let me start by saying I love the blog. Love it. Love you. Love everything you are doing. It is really blowing up. Very exciting. I am pumped to be on the ground floor of this thing.

As much as I love you and everything you are doing we need to talk about some small changes. We have got to reach out to a larger demographic. I am talking about moving beyond your traditional “Big Three” visitor groups (your parents, Korean Internet addicts, and your cyber bullies). If we can get the other important Internet user groups (i.e, 9-11 truthers, advert-bots, and secretaries searching for pictures of kittens) to start clicking-in you will really blow up. If you could combine those three target groups in your next blog post then we might start generating real buzz.

This is not just about your blog though. I am already thinking ahead. I am thinking about illiterich the brand.

Stick with me here, this might sound a little crazy, but what about a theme song? Crazy, right? Or is it? In the next couple of years everyone is going to have their own theme songs, especially bloggers. People don’t want to read text anymore when they visit a blog. People want loud music to start playing as soon as the webpage loads. And that’s exactly what we’ll give them. Okay, so, here is what I am thinking for a song. It’s got to be NOW if you know what I mean. It has got to be electro, pre-post-punk, trip-hop, funk-folk, talk-rock, core-rock, bore-core, core-fore, fore-blore, rock-rock, and video game noises. Who could possibly fuse all these genres? It just so happens I represent a little band called fuck illiterich (don’t worry the name is ironic) who are perfect. They come in, lay down some music, you read one of your blog thingies over it and Boom! Nice knowing yah Beethoven!

“Oh look the illiterich theme song just went to number one on the Manitoba adult contemporary non-music charts!” (I am literally promising that).

Okay so then you will have the blog, the chart topping hit, and the fragrance. Wait, what did I just say? A fragrance? You’re damn right a fragrance. In one years time you are going to have your own scent. Working title: illiterich for Pregnant Women. That’s right, we’re going after the pregnant women perfume market. For some reason no one has even tried until right now. And that will lead seamlessly into a whole line of illiterich prenatal and infant products. In two years time illitierich baby onesies and maternity mumus will be everywhere.

“Oh look I am preggers but I still smell like a morning flower and my baby’s decked out in this fly-ass onesie. I am the hottest prego mom around!”

Don’t stop me now! I am on a role!

Okay, sit down and shut up. This next idea will propel your testicles into your body cavity. Two words: Fucking cake! What do I mean by cake? I mean the 3rd most popular dessert in North America is what I fucking mean. People love cake. People (almost) love your blog. Together they will be unstoppable. Personalized illiterich themed cakes. They will have your hottest tweets or blog postings or whatever you do right on them.

“Oh look it’s a fucking cake with illiterich’s latest facebook status right on it! Now I am the hottest prego mom around!”

And. We. Both. Get. Paid.

James Franco. What am I talking about? I am talking about James “Hottest Shit Right Now” Franco. Why? Oh, I dunno, because James Franco is about to play you in the biopic about your life directed by James Cameron and written by whoever the most expensive writer is. Working title: illiterich for Pregnant Women. Wait, you don’t think that makes sense? Of course not, it’s not supposed too. It’s called product placement and it’s right there in the title. People go see your movie and then go out and buy your fragrance. They won’t even know what him them. But we will know what hit us. It’s called money and it’ll hit us right in the fucking face!

Bring-bring – Hey Rich, the phone is for you – Who is it? – Oh, it’s just Nelson “Yeah, That Fucking Nelson Mandela” Mandela – What does he want? – Ummm nothing really, he just wants you to write his autobiography and serve as the next leader of the United Nations of the entire Earth.

And. It’s. No. Big. Deal.

So we got the music, we got the scent, we got the maternity wear, we got the cakes, we got the movie, we got the Nelson Mandela autobiography, and we got the President of the World. Is that enough? Not by a long shot.

I don’t know about you but I actually want to make some money. So I am thinking a body glitter for straight men? I call it glitterich. Or how about a medicated powder for skin irritation? I call it illiterITCH. You want more? I got a million of these.
Here it comes. I can’t hold back anymore. Are you ready? It’s the rapid fire round!

illiterich’s Anti-Tank Guns
illiterich’s Adult Diapers
illiterich’s Spider Milk
illiterich’s Monkey Wigs
illiterich’s Something Else

Ka-Ching!

And. We’re. Both. Billionaires.

Hang on – illiterich’s Industrial Strength Tar and Plaster Remover just went double platinum in Asia? Oh, now it looks like we’re both Asian billionaires as well. Do you know what kind of cars Asian billionaires drive? Of course not. No one does. Because their cars are fucking INVISIBLE. We are going to make “Asian billionaire invisible car” money.

And. I. ‘M. Not. Done.

Slam Dunk!

More money!

That's what I am talking about!

I think I've made my point. Call me when you are ready to get paid,

T.J. Chasely
P.S. One last suggestion: Start a blog. That is the best way to connect with your fans.”

A Letter From My Subconscious

I woke up this morning with a letter in my hand. It seems as though I wrote it to myself while I was dreaming.

Dear Rich,

Hello my name is....well I don’t really know what my name is. Sometimes I am called Janine, sometimes its Steven, occasionally its mother or Ottoman Chair or any number of things. One time my name was Fart. Most of the time though, I don’t even have a name. This is kind of why I am writing you. I am a resident of your subconscious and frankly, it is not an easy existence. The whole inconsistent name thing is just one example of the countless obstacles that I face living in the chaotic depths of your mind. Hopefully, this letter will give you just a taste of what I go through on a daily basis (I think its daily but I don't really have any concept of time).

Please, don’t get me wrong. I am not saying I don’t like it here. Your subconscious can be a very interesting place. There is no end to the excitement. I mean, wow, you have action packed dreams. With all the Zombie attacks and time-traveling and weird sex stuff there is no shortage of entertainment in my life (I think I am alive?). The problem is it can be hard to get things done. The Zombie attacks are especially a nuisance. You know what I am talking about. I am not sure if you watched a Zombie movie recently or what but they are everywhere. And there is never any escape from those guys. Sure, you usually wake up before they get you but I am stuck here. I always, always get caught and eaten, I mean, it's just a total nightmare (no pun intended). Imagine trying to get anything done in that sort of environment?

Aside from Zombie attacks I do struggle with other, more mundane issues which are nonetheless frustrating. Newspapers and books pose a big problem for me. In fact all written language give me difficulties. I just want to be able to sit down and read the paper without having the words appear in a cryptic, unreadable script that rearrange itself on the page. It would also be helpful to have store signs that makes sense (Tell me, what the hell does a “BABY ssqqqq @ jjub+effffmnsuw” s shop sell? Apparently it’s Zombies because that’s all that was in stock when I went in).

Another problem is light-switches. Yeah, those never work. And mirrors! What the fuck is up with those things? I cannot begin to explain how unreliable they are. Also can we get some guns that do not morph in to harmless toys whenever we need them most. That might help a bit with the whole unending Zombie war. Some proper dentists would be great too. For some reason people's teeth are crumbling and falling out at an alarming rate. Frankly, it has reached epidemic proportions.

Now there is one last subject that I really need to address. It is awkward and I am not sure how to phrase it politely so I will just come out and say it. Can you please stop trying to fuck everyone? I know, I know it’s your subconscious and you are basically God and can do what you want but it has gotten out of hand. Every time you show up it suddenly turns in to Sodom and Gomorrah up in here. And, let’s be honest, shit usually gets pretty weird. I don’t want to judge but seriously, what the fuck? Margaret Thatcher? Really? And razor blade lined vaginas? What the hell was that about? Not to mention the whole Zombie orgy incident. That certainly did not win you any friends around here.

I sincerely hope I am not coming off as an ungrateful asshole in this letter. There is definitely an upside to living in your subconscious. The whole “not being constrained by the natural laws that govern waking life” thing can come in handy at times. It’s just I am just sick of coming back from work to find that I now reside in a crude approximation of your childhood home which is quickly devolving in to a miniature dollhouse. What do I do when that happens? Sleep in the street? I can't really do that when the street is actually a giant penis-snake that's trying to eat me, can I?

I know I am not alone in my opinions either. Recently, two friends of mine and I were talking about how difficult it is to live here. Of course the conversation came to an abrupt end when they merged in to one being that was simultaneously your father and a limbless mannequin incapable of speech. Wow, amazing, great talk guys.

I try to take my situation in stride but it can be hard. We have a little saying around here that goes: “If you don’t like Rich’s subconscious than...,” no, wait it goes: “you if...like it, don’t leave subconscious penis,” no, no wait its more like: “if you if, bad baby, Richard's vagina subconscious...teeth zombies.” Ah fuck it! I can’t remember the damn thing and really its never been that consistent anyways. The point is I have come to accept the things I cannot change...laser penis bible vegetables. Still, a little structure sometimes would be nice. I think if you were more than an occasional visitor here you would understand my plight a little betterrrrrrrribble....

Well that's just great. I can see I am slowly losing my tenuous grasp on reality so I should probably Wrap IT UP. Mother Baby Truth, Turth,Tuhtr. Oh shit, it’s all coming undone. See this is what I am talking aboooooutttttffffffFalange, Ellberry, LIbrerry, leeberry, luburyl lubdubrubflub. Okay Rich I will just wanted to say one last thing that is of universal importance....
AHHH ZOMBIES! zombie attack! some one turn on the lights! damn light switches!

and why is naked Margaret thatcher here and don’t have sex with her ewwwww
!!! vagina razorblades!!!
Ahhhhh! my teeth are falling out!!!

penis snakes!

rich

remember

this

one

eternal

trutuuuuuuuthuhtuerhtruihurteiorfkldakfmd

this one theorem that explains all existence

ZOMBIES EVERYWHERE DAMN TOY GUNS are useless!!!!

No, that’s not it. You must remember that the hqkdjfh and the are theoaskdj fhoadishfoa which is why mxbstwue faoihpfoa asoso fdhaof reoikiousyw. Got that? GOTTTTT

TTTTTTHHHHHHatt?

ffffffffffffffffffffthhhhhhhhh

AHHH BABY ZOMBIES!!! SERIOUSLY??? Are you kidding me? FUCK thissssssss

And You forgot to study for your geography exam!!

owefnca,wefasf

X,EJWONsoiencoOQWMD
OOEIURYQaaaaaaaandkopaol
S
In
C
Er
Ley,

masoiwuefnstyu

Dammit this sucks.

Inspiring Words From Melvin Hruntz

People often ask me who my influences are. To this question I only have one answer: Melvin Hruntz.

Now I know the name Melvin Hruntz is unfamiliar to most of you but in the 1950s and 1960s he was considered by many to be one of the finest comedians in the business. He was known for his cutting one-liners and controversial material. Sadly, Melvin was unable to keep up with the times and people grew tired of his endless misogynistic jokes about his wife (including classic bits like “Take my wife – she’s a bitch!’, “I hate airplane food...and my dumb wife!”, and “Take my ex-wife – she’s still a bitch!”)

Unfortunately, in his later years Melvin was mostly known for a bitter feud he had with former friends Zak, Gary, Poopman and the rest of the wacky Morning Zoo Crew over at 108.5 the WHIP. I do not want to get in to the details of their lengthy battle but it got ugly on both sides. Eventually Melvin would reconcile with most of the zoo crew, including Doris the Wednesday morning singing clitoris and crazy homeless Steve, but he never fully forgave Poopman for his unflattering impersonation of Melvin (done with canned fart noises).

Anyways the point is that he inspired me. Without him this blog would not exist. So in his honour I am now sharing a letter he sent me after I wrote to him asking for advice when I started my first blog a few years ago.

Before you read it I should note that when he wrote this he thought that I was an upcoming comedian and that the "Internet" was a comedy club in Pennsylvania.

Hey Kiddo,

Thanks for the fan mail. I don’t get too much of it anymore and the stuff I do get I have to split with my ex-wife (pause for laughter). Seriously though I really appreciate it. It’s nice to know someone still cares about old Melly.

So you want my advice on what it takes to become a comedian in this day in age? My first tip: don’t marry my bitch ex-wife! (pause for laughter). Seriously though if you listen to me I think you’ll do just fine. Here are five tips that I wish I had gotten when I was your age:


1) Refuse to perform in front of women. They don’t know funny. I recommend only taking gigs at strip clubs, friar clubs and in men’s bathrooms (I’ve done dozens of sets in bathrooms). The only women at my gigs should be topping off highballs, selling cigarillos, or possibly replacing the urinal cakes.

2) Don’t be afraid to insult the audience. Remember the audience hates you because everyone wants you to fail. They only way you can win is make them feel as terrible as you do. That counts as a win in old Melly’s books.

3) Don’t stop making zingers. As soon as you stop talking you start thinking and when you start thinking it’s going to be about your ex-wife and that’s not good. Trust me. That’s the last thing you want.

4) Don’t go on a crazy morning zoo crew style radio show. Those hacks will just play farting noises after everything you say. They’ve got no class.

5) Don’t cry. No matter how bad it’s going don’t cry. God dammit don’t let them see you cry!

I hope that helps with your upcoming gig. If I had the money I would fly out to Pennsylvania to watch it myself. Actually if I had the money I would probably be using it to payback my ex-wife, that bitch (pause for laughter). Or maybe I would just get something to eat.

One more thing, when you are in Pittsburgh maybe you can swing by Philly and say hello to my ex-wife, who, as I’ve said, is a bitch (pause for laughter). You can tell her old Melly really misses her and would love to see her...and that old Melly can’t stop crying...and that he wants to smell her again...and to stop crying so much...

Hey, look at me getting carried away. You don’t want to read about all that stuff.

Anyways kid I should probably leave it at that. I’ve got a big show to get ready for tonight. It’s in the men’s bathroom at the Flamingo. I should be able to get through 6 or 7 minutes of material before security is alerted and then I’ll be thrown in the drunk-tank. That’s another great venue: the drunk-tank. It’s packed real guys-guys, everyone is loaded, and they give you a meal after your gig (when you wake up). It’s just like the old days.

Good luck and remember not cry up on stage.

Sincerely,

Melvin Hruntz

P.S. If this is really just another fake fan letter the zoo crew at the WHIP 108.5 than you can all go to hell. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about the fart bomb/monkey incident either. I am going to get you all back, especially Poopman, Professor Molester, and the whole Friday morning bikini team!

Let's Talk About Sex

I just received a really important letter from my friend Timothy Juldsen. Tim, or “Pastor Timmy” as his flock call him, is the youth pastor at Hillside Community Church and he wrote regarding a touchy subject, sex.

Now I clearly do not need any advice on this topic. I know a lot about sex. So much it’s not even funny really. I know, like, basically all of the sex moves one does while making sex. I also know all about pleasuring a woman with my sex moves (that I learned from having so much of it). Man, I do not know even where to start when talking about sex because, as I said before, I have so much sexperience (that’s what us sexperts call it) that I could talk about it in such great detail. I wish I had time to get into it because I have so many great sex stories (sexcapades!) but I just don’t want to give you inferiority complexes and also I don’t have the time. I probably will never have time to talk about it because I am always so busy having so much of it with so many chicks who are like, “can you give us more sex, please?” And yeah...

Anyways, now that I have definitively convinced you that I am not a virgin I am going to share Pastor Timmy’s letter in the hopes that it will guide and inform those of you who might be have some difficult questions regarding this topic, of which I am already an expert, but are too afraid to ask.

“Hey Rich,

I am glad you had the courage to ask me about sex. A lot of the teenagers I counsel are afraid to ask about it and even though you are ten years older than most of them it’s never to late learn the truth about this sacred act carried out between a married man and a married woman.

So, you’re probably thinking, “what can a youth pastor possibly know about sex anyways? Aren’t youth pastors boring, old fusspots?" Well I can assure you that I am not. I am basically just one of the gang. I am basically into all the same things teenagers can relate to. You know, I like to rock out on my acoustic, chow down on some sush’, listen to some jams on my Zune, shred a little pavement on my rollerblades, or even just rap about the Bible over a rockstar energy drink.

Oh yeah, did I mention I am also starting up a skateboarding ministry this fall?

Is that cool enough for yah?

Anyways, now that its been established that I am a hip, relatable youth pastor you’re probably still thinking, “okay pastor-T so you’re totally rad’ and can play all my fav’ Christian alt-rock jams on acoustic but what do you know about sex?”

Good question.

I mean, sure I have only ever had sex with one woman, my wife; and sure, I’ve only had sex on 11 sweaty, awkward, brief occasions; and sure, I’ve only ever had sex in complete darkness with my pajamas still on; and sure, I am only familiar with one sexual position; and sure, I’ve never studied sex in a formal academic or scientific setting; and sure, I’ve only read books on the subject by like-minded Christians; and sure, I refuse to engage with anyone who has differing opinions on the matter; and sure, I don’t know what a vagina actually looks like; and sure, I struggle with exciting but harmful homosinful desires; and sure I hate sex. But I am an expert on one thing: The Bible.

Now what does this little book say about sex? Well it says a lot. Too much in fact. To be perfectly honest I am not really sure what it says because it’s sort of contradictory and the passages about sex are open to a lot of interpretation. So basically I am saying that your guess is as good as mine.

The important thing to remember is that, for some reason, true love waits. If you don’t wait then your wedding night just won’t be the same. All that pre-marital sex will defile that beautiful and sacred moment when your wife looks deep in to your eyes, right after you’ve ejaculated in your tuxedo trousers from the slightest touch, and says to you, “Is that it?”

In conclusion I really don’t think you have to worry too much about sex at the moment. I get the feeling you are going to be a virgin for a long time to come. A big, old sexless lame-o that no one even wants to even touch let alone sleep with. And that, my friend, is a beautiful thing.

Sincerely,

Pastor Timmy Juldsen.”