From: Gary S. Gevisser
Sent:
To: Howard Stern
Cc: rest; FBI;
Subject: Open letter to Howard Stern
Dear Howard,
I am sitting in my new digs, the new west coast headquarters of Manager Minute One, yet to hear back from my writer-coach Glenn Shapiro on his efforts to create a print-publishing inflationary bidding war on my one of a kind “tell all” book all geared toward empowering the kids to parent the parents who need the most help, not quite as close to the Pacific “Oshon” [sic] as I was yesterday when I knew that we had it in the bag having done all that was necessary to get this very worldly President of the “Free World” re-elected, the panoramic view enough to take your breath away, certainly a whole lot better than when I rented the space below known as The Cave which u can see just in front of the green Mercedes in this hyperlink, the former renter of some 12 years of what is known as the Tree House, the bachelor of bachelor spots in all of Del Mar, Mr. Sammy Haim, without breathing a word to the landlord simply vacated leaving I am told quite a mess, off with his new Vietnamese wife still owing, again to the best of my knowledge, a good some of money to mention little of whatever became of my Digital camera which Mr. Haim took possession of when I was last visiting Machu Picchu with my Client-Partner-Wife Marie Dion and my world traveling dog, Pypeetoe.
In addition to those u see copied on this missive is a statistically valid sampling of the world’s literate population including several branches of the FBI as well as a handful of former members of Flotilla 13, Israel’s most elite special forces commandos letting them all know that come November 15th, the official move-in date, even if I have gone missing, found dead in a trash can, my head decapitated, my arms chopped off below the elbows, the stumps on both legs cauterized, there is going to be one incredible party.
I
am hereby instructing the executor of my estate, Mr.
Poli like others possibly more in tune with the method to my madness knows perfectly well that I am not just once again vindicated, as I take numbers and kick butt, but as G-D is my witness I will die the richest the person in the grave even tho if found I plan to be fed to the fishes leaving most importantly a legacy of never allowing anyone, not a single human being who commits any wrong, a “free pass” which simply affords the wrongdoer the opportunity to sock it that much harder to their next victim to mention little once again of the damage to the space between one’s ears after being had, time and again, the deafening silences of the likes of my 30+ year Jewish pal Tony Unruh no doubt having read cover to cover The Diamond Invention speaking volumes at this time, agree?
Wouldn’t u agree one of the worst things besides for waking up the next morning next to someone “phat” [sic] and ugly is to not be woken from an endless nightmare of being had one time after the next, agree?
So how do u feel?
Had worse days say than when Valerie Schulte Esq. of the National Association of Broadcasters saw
her budding legal career at the NAB coming to a quick
end back during the media frenzy at the start of the last quarter mile of the
superhighway when a Mexican Federales stopped our vehicle just inside Mexico
down by the San Diego-Tijuana border crossing, the amount of pot in
Valerie’s personal possession really not all that material, the same with the couple of bucks in my back pocket to
mention little of King Golden Jr. Esq. the cultivator, harvester
and distributor of the dope probably far superior than what was grown by his
next door neighbor Dr. John Ben Stewart, certainly of a sufficient quantity to keep no matter how
many Huron Indians would have been crammed into the Mexican jail cell on one
incredible high until such time as our mutual buddy, Mr. Roger W. Robinson, a “spook” in the National Rifle
Association, no strike that, a Soviet specialist in the National Security
Council during
I seem to recall u having this segment every Friday during your
daily radio show that has u and your entourage having to guess what some yoyo
following the
Howard, earlier today I posted this up on the BUDweiser Yahoo Message board which talks to my beginning the celebrations immediately after I sent President Bush the final segment of a rather lengthy missive that began on Friday evening titled, “Hope.”
I am now going to call it quits for the day asking each person copied on this email including my new neighbor Kathy who took over The Cave when I left to assist either in helping me post up on your message board - trouble registering, so much so that when u get a few posts to your board, u will know u stepped on the Rattlesnake, to mention little of Kathy just moments ago as she handed me the most incredible cherry cake to go with my Margarita that her father was one of original OAS guys that preceded the CIA and that her uncle is very possibly a top dog at the CIA, my getting the impression that if I pressed him more on the subject I might not to finish this communiqué.
When I return before continuing in this vein I will be checking in with a renter of mine who for “sum” [sic] reason keeps missing the boat.
Yours truly,
A NAME FROM HERE YOU CAN TRUST OVER THERE
