Dear Nana Franco,
What gives? It’s been almost two weeks since we last heard from you! You may not be aware, due to what we assume is your advanced age, that Hobo Pancakes and its subsidiary, Hobo Jungle, is a very serious, very deadlined operation! You give us Franco gold one week, and then nothing? Thanks for the teaser, you miserable old biddy.
On second thought, due to what we assume is your advanced age, you may be dead or otherwise incapacitated. If you are still among the living, please send us something new post haste! If we do not hear from you, we will take for granted that you have parted from this world and will hold an open thread memorial service that will probably only be attended by JHM, Kate Burns and that poop guy. You’re welcome and/or rest in peace.
The Hobo Pancakes Team
Dear Hobo Pancakes,
Oh, dear! I didn’t mean to cause you any frustration or worry, and I would never intentionally compromise the integrity of your online publication! Obviously, I’m alive and mostly well–I do have a slight arrythmia of the heart, but I keep that in check with beta blockers and the occasional defibrillation.
But enough about me. First of all, I do apologize for failing to send any of my James’ work for the past few weeks. I had a bit of a run-in with James’ cleaning lady, who, as it turns out, is a cleaning gentleman. His name is Guadalupe (Guad to his friends) and he sounds just like Rita Moreno over the phone, so hopefully you will understand my confusion. He logged onto your site at my suggestion to check on the legitimacy of our little project here and was absolutely horrified to discover that I thought he was a woman. An Amazon.com gift card, a box of Godiva chocolates and several very looooong conversations about gender identity later, Guad is back on board!
Now, in exchange for his continued involvement, he does have a rather lengthy list of demands, but I suggested that before we get into negotiating all that, he should send at least one item in advance as a show of good faith. And here it is, a discarded draft for James’ next New York City art show, “Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Pen15.” It’s a delightful found paper sketch in crayon and ink–I’m afraid it got a bit smudged in the trashcan, but Guad did a wonderful job of smoothing out the creases. Enjoy!
Gumdrop hugs and gingerbread kisses,
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