Mrs. Paul called, she wants her (fish) schtick back.Dear Seattle Sutton,

I never thought this could happen to a guy like me.  The other day I was at the car wash when a women’s college volleyball team offered to “wax my ride” for a few bucks…  Oh, wait, wrong letter.

Dear Seattle Sutton,

On behalf of Cubs’ fans who have radios, please go to hell and die.

I understand I might have the order wrong, but either way, get it done.

You are probably wondering what a middle-aged woman who wears really bad scarves and a watch that looks like it ought to have a Mickey Mouse on it, has done to irritate Cubs’ fans within reach of WGN-AM’s signal?

If I hear her over enunciate the not-at-all-clever and totally contrived “Acapulco Taco Pie”, one more time, I’m going to rip the antenna off my car and jam it through my ears.

The fact that the radio commercial includes a fake phone call from the world’s cuddliest diabetic, Ron Santo, and the fact that the way she says his name only proves that she has no idea who he is, only makes it that much worse.

Apparently, Seattle Sutton’s company makes meals that they freeze dry or pack in dry ice or some shit and send to people with “special dietary needs.”  We get the code.  It’s meals for fatties and sugar hoarders.  It’s meals on wheels without the wheels.  Tremendous.

I like how in the commercial she tells Ron that when he’s on the road he can arrange to have his meals sent to him.  Nothing better than staying at the Waldorf in New York and getting a call that “your package of beef stroganoff has arrived at the front desk.”  Mmmm.

But honestly, I have no problem with somebody pretending that sending a package of blue corn chips, a can of beefaroni and a Crystal Light packet to a shut in.   No problem at all.

It’s a great service.  I hope when I have given up the will to live that someone will mail my meals to me.  Maybe they could just blend them all together and I could drink them.  Kind of like an Acapulco Taco Pie Mai Tai.

Great, now you’ve got me doing it.

Go screw yourself.

Love,

Andy