--THE BOOK OF EMBRACES--
and other brutally international love letters from WS Burroughs to Ayn Rand
July 4th, 1944
Dear Mizz Rand,
I just finished your book, "The Pumpkinhead." Great, I must say. The idea of going against the establishment by becoming the purist root of the establishment is a coup for fascists worldwide. I mean this in the most complimentary fashion. Women make terrible fascists traditionally. And you do write like a man. I'll bet you even vote and drink whiskey too. I can give no higher praise.
Yours truly,
W.S. Burroughs, A.G.A.
8 August 1944 Dear Mister Burroughs: Your letter was at once insulting and compelling so I reply. My citizenship, alas, prevents me from responding to your offer of friendship. I am no longer European. I am as American as a drunken Navajo in Gallup, New Mexico. I sincerely regret no longer having a Russian port for your salted peter. It's terribly hot this summer, don't you agree? Perhaps you could send me a letter about Germans in hot weather. In any event, please do send more gorgeous filth. This shall further a character study I am working on for my next novel.
Ayn Rand
Night of July 4th, 1958 Dear Mrs. O'Connor,
Just finished your book, "How to Win at Pennuckle." Absolutely great I must say. First rate. Smashing!
Your friend in Sasquatch, Edgar Rice Burroughs P.S.: Who is John Galt? I fear I may never know.
12 July 1958 Dear William, Thank you for your interest. How to Win at Pennuckle has been on the best seller list for some time along with my Desperate Tumbleweeds and other Russian Thistles Blowing Through the American West. There is talk of a movie starring Greta Garbo and the ghost of Emmanuel Kant.
Ayn Rand PS: I've enclosed for your review a list of my older books: Canasta for Capitalists, The Grist of Whist, and Egyptian Rat Screw: a primer. As well as a signed 8x10 for you to hold up with one hand.
July 4th, 1968 Dear Miss Rosenbaum, I just finished your non-fiction work "The Proper Care and Feeding of the Feminist." Remain passive indeed! First rate as always. We expect nothing but. I am deadly curious to know how do you choose names for your characters? You simply must share this with us. You have such a--I don't know what--way with it. Love in custody, W.W. Burroughs
12 July 1968 Mr. Burroughs! How good to hear from you after so long. I get so little fan mail that I can really sink my teeth into. You've been away too long this time! I saw the envelope in the box and I felt the first and only psychic flash of my life. I knew I had won something fluffy and cute from the shooting gallery of life. I love carnivals just as you. As you know, English was my third language so I'm not sure I always understand your idioms. I hope you will take the time to explain your books to me in front of a cozy fire some night in Aspen, CO. Or Las Vegas, NV? Now, I do not know how you became acquainted with my birthname. As one old Jew to another: please use the name I chose for myself and legally posses by my own Sperry-Rand typewriter's consent. I was talking with typewriters long before you'd shot your first poppy. And, after all, I am man enough to have the good grace not to address you as W.U.S. Burroughs, it's the least you can do for me.
Ayn Rand
July 4th, 1982 Dear Ayn, Just finished your book, "Atlas Drugged." Absolutely great I must say.
I take issue, however. I have been to that bar in El Paso many times. The pool table you referenced in your various erotic scenes between Dagny Taggart and a Mexican mail-mule does not exist nor is the vertical clearance in the bar sufficient to get a donkey on a pool table if there were a pool table at all.
Your comrade in arms, W.S.
August 1, 1982 Dear Mister Burroughs: Ms. Rand is dead and has been for some time as I don't doubt you are aware. I must insist you cease your infuriating, tactless and ridiculous missives. I'll call the police if you don't. I realize you and Ms. Rand had some sort of personal relationship, by mail or otherwise, but I am not your fan. When I would attack you, she would grow wistful and say, "Don't. It's all right." She's not here to stand up for you anymore.
July 4th, 1983 Dear Annie get your gun, You won't get out of it that easily. I'll see you in Hell, you dizzy Ruskie fuck! I'll get you! You can't get away! It isn't over, you hear? Me and Chuckie B. are gonna tag team your plumb pork rind in Hell for all eternity!!! You crazy dead bitch! I'll teach you to be American!
December 24th, 1983 Sir: I've alerted the authorities. They said they've had problems with you before. One more letter and we've been told they will have what they need to begin deportation hearings. Consider yourself warned or pack for Cuba.
PS: I came across an entry in Ms. Rand's journals which was written on the eve of her death. It said: W.S. Burroughs doesn't play croquet so well as he would like. I hope that when he inquires of me his wickets will stand to.
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