Afterwards, I sent the Kaiser more actual letters, and asked him to work his magic once again...he kindly agreed!
Issue #39: You really outdid yourselves. A new artist, a new price, wow. You can keep both. From now on I’ll read CONAN while standing in the bookstore. I surely won’t buy it again. I’m not that loyal a reader. Better come back to earth, ‘cause you’re not selling gasoline. Inflation, big deal. Figure a way to give us poor readers a break.
(No address given)
Dear homeless guy,
You're going to start reading Conan while standing in the bookstore, huh? Well, I sure hope you don't strain yourself doing two things at the same time. We wouldn't want you to pull a muscle in your brain, after all. Actually, I think this would probably be a better idea, considering that you would otherwise sneak the issue under your threadbare, booze-smelling coat and walk out, you penniless bastard. It's a good thing we're not selling gasoline. You'd just siphon it out of our tanks in the middle of the night to use in that broken Gremlin (not for driving, no, but for keeping the heat on while you sleep in the backseat).
You know how much I care about the opinion of some “not that loyal a reader” named Randell? What kind of lame-ass name is Randell, anyway? I'm sure that would make a great name for a comic book character. Ran-Dell the Feral Bum: savagely shivving stray dogs, lost club-goers, and the occasional cop.
If you picked up a copy of issue #39, then I'm not surprised you were taken aback by the price. Issue #39 was our special holofoil gatefold cover special edition. Why put that on issue #39? Why the hell not? Of course, something that ridiculously collectible is going to cost more, because it's worth more.
As for the art, well, let's take a look at the special, limited edition cover and I'll see if there's anything wrong with it.
Nope. Seems fine to me.
How about some advice, Ran-Dell. First off, get yourself a decent job, one that pays well. Get yourself an apartment. Shower daily; that's very important. Get some buddies who have homes that don't say Frigidaire on the side. Hell, find yourself a nice girl; someone pretty. Get married, eventually, and buy a home together for you, your wife, your 2.5 kids, three cars, and a dog. And when you come home from a hard day of honest work; with your wife cooking dinner and your kids in the backyard; and you sit down in your La-Z-Boy to watch baseball or football, whatever you like; don't forget to pour yourself a nice, tall, cool, refreshing glass of SHUT THE HELL UP!
Wear some deodorant,
P. S. - I'm going to send a letter to every bookstore in the US, letting them know that if they see an unshowered, lame-ass vagrant of a turd named Ran-Dell standing around, reading all their Conan magazines, they have the liberty to pummel you and lock you in a dumpster.
Re: CONAN #38.
You have finally done it! Turned the best mag in the comic world into a complete bunch of garbage!!
We here at Conan take pride in having "the best mag in the comic world." This is something we are serious about, implementing 'round the clock quality checks, hiring the deadliest assassins money can buy, and using only the finest of ingredients. To say that what you received from us was a complete bunch of garbage is utter poppycock.
I'm going to take a stab in the dark, here. You didn't happen to purchase your copy of issue #38 from some homeless guy; a homeless guy who goes by the name of Ran-Dell the Feral Bum, did you?
Mr. Freeman, Bobby, Bob-O, Shama-lama-ding-dong, I hate to tell you this but, while we do have many reputable vendors for our fine comics, such as bookstores, comic book shops, even the magazine section of your local supermarket, the homeless guy who stands in the backlot of the liquor store in his pee-stained clothes is not one of them. I don't care if he's got the comic in a Ziploc bag, you shouldn't trust someone like that. Do you know where his hands have been? He's had them all over that comic book, I know that much. Look, homeless people are known for getting the most use out of the things they carry with them. With that in mind, I wouldn't be surprised if Ran-Dell has already used that issue of Conan as a pillow, a towel, a seat cushion, a Kleenex, toilet paper, and a jock strap before even selling it to you.
While it is our responsibility to make sure that you get the finest in sword & sorcery entertainment every month, it is your responsibility to make sure that you buy from a reputable vendor. Think not only of the quality of the product you're buying, but also the health and safety issues that you put yourself at risk by dealing with such people. Frankly, Mr. Freeman, I'm surprised you haven't contracted Gonorrhea yet.
Oh, one more thing. If you ever happen to come across that homeless Ran-Dell ever again, make sure to wear your heaviest steel-toed boots, that way, when you repeatedly stomp in his nuts, you'll be sure to give him the worst pain possible.
No, seriously, hurt him.
Just say no to the hobo,
Dear Heinous Salami Suckers,
What’s this I hear about no more CONAN THE BARBARIAN stuff? Is this just a cruel hoax to increase publicity and sales, you evil money-sucking sons of goats? BRING BACK CONAN THE BARBARIAN YOU SHLUMPY, YAK-SMUGGLING, SEXUALLY DEPRIVED ILLEGAL IMMIGRANTS!
And furthermore, I blame you for the Exxon Valdez disaster and for putting George Bush in office.
(No address on Letter)
Okay, what the hell is with all these homeless people writing to me? Don't we have someone who screens these letters, or something? If the envelope doesn't have a return address, I don't want to read the damn thing!
Okay, Adam, I'm going to theorize that you quit your job to follow your dream of becoming a professional insulter. Considering how much you suck at it, I'm not surprised you're poor. Perhaps by using some of these incomprehensible insults you seem to like so much, you may realize how retarded you sound, throw away your stupid dreams, and return to the soul sucking despair of the working world along with the rest of us. Let's try it.
I don't know where you heard the rumor about Conan getting canceled, you butter-flavored, lesbian bee nipple, but it's not true. Only a fart-sniffing, hair-eating, King of Moronus would believe that. You know what, I bet it was that turd-smearing, sexually transmitted diseased son-of-an-ass-grabber Ran-Dell that told you that. Don't listen to him. He's a gut-fouling, pee-pee smelling dong wobbler.
As far as the blame game is concerned, I will admit that I do know who was responsible for the Exxon Valdez incident. The Abdominal Snowman got really drunk. He thought the ship was a giant piñata; full of candy, gold, and naked women. He bashed it open with an iceberg and, well, you get the idea.
He says he's really sorry and it won't happen again.
As for putting George Bush in office, I see you didn't really graduate from high school, did you? You see, there's this new concept called “democracy.” You may not have heard of it. It's only been around for the past 230 years, or so. In this “democracy,” people have something called “elections,” which are these big, drawn out affairs where the people of the United States get together and decide who's going to push them around and tell them what to do. I would imagine that you, a brain-burned caca man, would have no idea that this was going on. If you want someone to blame for that, blame everyone who voted for him (by the way, I did not; I was only ten at the time).
Of course, at the rate of my progress to total domination of the world, I wouldn't really worry about using up the small remainder of your brain cells on deciding who gets to trample you underfoot, because that will soon be me and you have no choice.
Go sleep under a train,
P. S. - I have decided to address the growing problem of homeless people with a flame thrower.
Ahh, now these are the type of responses I would’ve loved to have seen from the editors at Marvel. Beautiful!
Now head on over and see what’s shaking on Kaiser Crowbar's Ablogcalypse. CROM’S ORDERS!