Beware, Baby Ruddy

I got this letter -- which comes from Mead Johnson Nutritionals -- last Wednesday, August 18. Remember that.

IMPORTANT SAFETY NOTICE

July 20, 2004

Dear Valued Customer,

Our records indicate that you were sent a set of Enfamil A+ Visual Flash Cards from Mead Johnson Nutritionals.In the U.S. we have received a few consumer reports of damaged flash cards or of the ring breaking. No reports from Canadian consumers have been received.

Because we will not take chances with the safety of our consumers, we are asking that you PLEASE DISCARD THE VISUAL FLASH CARDS IMMEDIATELY. To help you identify the item, please see the photograph of the Visual Flash Cards below.

(Not one, but two photos follow.)

We appreciate having you as a consumer. If you have questions about the Visual Flash Cards or any of our infant formulas, please call us at 1-800-361-6323 or email us at mjncrc@bms.com.

Kind regards,

Carol Lynn Berseth, MD
Director, Medical Affairs North America
Mead Johnson & Company

Well, Ruddy Ruddy did in fact get sent a set of these flashcards by Enfamil. And this warning is probably the best customer service that Ruddy Ruddy has yet received, in that it's trying to help rather than to extort money.

However, it took almost a month for the letter to arrive. That's plenty of time for a baby to choke on a broken set of flash cards. Surely any baby's life is worth the few extra cents it would cost for such a letter to be sent by priority courier. Even the creepy talking infants in Baby Geniuses don't deserve deaths resulting from such egregious negligence.

I have half a mind to complain, and if I were Ruddy Ruddy, I could write the following e-mail without lying at all:

Dear Mead Johnson,

Thank you for your letter of warning. Unfortunately, your message was late in arriving. My child is now not alive.

Sincerely,
Ruddy Ruddy

Less than enchanted with Enchantress

What's this? It's the first-ever drunken Ruddy Ruddy update. I stopped off after work to have a lot of beer with one James R. Pinkerton, who happens to write a very, very funny weblog, and inspired by his great works, I vowed as I returned home that if there were a letter for Ruddy Ruddy in my mailbox, I would write an update. There was, and I am.

Does being drunk help one write? I don't know -- you tell me. It certainly helps one slightly piss his pants during the last few frantic steps to the toilet, I can tell you that. And being drunk never seemed to hurt James Joyce when it came to writing, not that anyone knew what he was saying anyway.

Now, I've got a letter here addressed to Miss Ruddy Ruddy. It says FIRST CLASS MAIL, and it comes from Scarborough, Ontario. Also, it says STATEMENT ENCLOSED in big letters. I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that it's from Enchantress Hosiery, who, as you may recall, thinks that Ruddy Ruddy owes them some money. Think I'm right?

Yes. I'm a master of deduction. I'm C. Auguste Dupin. I'm Dixon Hill. I'm a regular Lance Lawson. I'm practically every fictional detective you know who deals with fictional crimes, such as those commited by the non-existent Ruddy Ruddy. As I predicted, here comes Enchantress Hosiery of Canada once again, dunning Ruddy Ruddy to the tune of $24.64 for 1 free pair of Trouser Socks along with 3 pairs of Sheer pair of Ultra Control Top. This is hosiery, need I remind you, that Miss Ruddy Ruddy never even got in the mail, so even if she'd ordered it, she shouldn't owe anything.

What have these people to say for themselves? As always, I shall transcribe:

ACCOUNT STATUS: DELINQUENT

Dear Miss Ruddy,

You have failed to respond to our earlier requests to pay your account, which is seriously overdue. Your account has now been assigned to our Delinquent Accounts Department.

We have suspended your credit privileges.

We are giving you an opportunity to pay your account before we are forced to forward your file to the Collections Office.

Under the terms of our offer, if you do not pay your invoice, you just return your shipment. We have not received your payment. We have not received your shipment back.

Please pay $24.64 NOW to avoid any further action.

P. Caponio
Delinquent Accounts Supervisor

P.S. If you do not wish to receive any more shipments, please write "CANCEL" on the payment stub when you return it with your payment.

The first thing I notice here is that where Collectcorp tries to intimidate Ruddy Ruddy with a Germanic name, Enchantress turns to another of the Axis powers and orders in some Italian. I suppose Ruddy ought to be worrying about Don Caponio having her knees broken or sending her to sleep with the fishes, or whatever.

I don't get these people. They say that if Ruddy doesn't pay her invoice, she's got to return her shipment. But she never got the shipment to begin with! So she can't return it, obviously. Is she then obligated to pay the invoice, due to an inability to return the shipment? I can think of a lot of reasons that that's just not going to happen.

And then they go on to say that if Ruddy Ruddy doesn't want to recive any more shipments, she should write "CANCEL" on her payment stub when she sends it back. So if this isn't done, is Enchantress Hosiery going to keep sending shipment after shipment of pantyhose? That seems like poor business practice -- they're just throwing good money after bad.

Well, bring it on, Enchantress! Send hose after hose to Ruddy Ruddy, because you're not getting a payment stub with the word "CANCEL" written on it, because you're not getting a payment stub period! You get nothing!

Gung ho for elephants

I'm still trying to work my way through the (now visibly diminishing) pile of Ruddy Ruddy mail that I've accumulated over my hiatus, so here's another one. This one comes from Communication Canada, and as it's addressed to

R    SPECIAL    25363200S

RUDDY INC

I expect it to be, well, special. Let's open it, shall we?

PUBLISHING AND DEPOSITORY SERVICES

IMPORTANT NOTICE
RE:
SERVICE DISRUPTIONS FROM
MARCH 17 TO APRIL 6, 2004

Well, that's a letdown. Not only is this irrelevant at this point, it being mid-August by now, but I didn't even notice any kind of service disruption. According to the letter, the Publishing and Depository Services switched to a new warehousing and distribution service provider, and also was part of a government reorganization. "Thank you in advance for your patience and understanding as we transition to new processing methods as well as a new reporting authority," the letter says. "We really appreciate your support and truly regret any inconvenience that this may cause you." Don't sweat it, guys.

Truly a disappointment. But even if I'd dealt with that one promptly, I don't think I could have made that one very interesting anyway. Perhaps the next selection from the pile will offer up some better action; it's from the always-exciting People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals.

I open it to find ... a comic book! Now this is more like it. It may not be Marvel-quality or anything, but PETA doesn't shy away from exposing animal cruelty through vivid images, so there's a chance that An Elephant's Life could have all the blood and guts of the average issue of The Punisher. (That link goes to the online version, so you can see for yourself.) I'm looking forward to seeing some ivory-trading Kenyan poachers cut the tusks right out of some elephants' faces in acts of glorious, shrieking, four-color mayhem.

Sadly, the most violence inflicted upon an elephant is a little prodding with a pointed hook. But more significant violence is done to logical storytelling: The story begins with a racially mixed group of children (because everything is just that more enlightening when involves one white girl, one black girl, and one Asian boy) attending a circus. Following the show, they hop in a jeep with the white girl's acrobat aunt and the circus' strongman and apparently drive to Africa. At least, they end up at an elephant sanctuary, and I've never heard of one of those being located outside Africa. I suppose it's possible that they were in Africa to begin with, but somehow I think not; as far as I know, traveling circuses do more business in North America than in Africa, and only one of the kids, Leo, seems that familiar with elephants to begin with.

What's really notable about this comic is that the circus strongman (who's not identified at first, but who Leo later addresses as Alexander, despite the fact that they haven't been introduced, which would seem to be bad writing, but I suppose the kids might have heard his name during the show) seems to be none other than Gung-Ho, the Marine from G.I. Joe.

Check out Gung-Ho's bald head, black handlebar mustache, and powder-blue vest on his personnel file card. (Note also that he's a specialist in jungle warfare, so he's right at home in Africa.) You can't see it in the picture, but Gung-Ho had a golden hoop earring too.


Now look at Alexander the strongman in the following page from An Elephant's Life: bald head, black handlebar mustache, and powder-blue polo shirt. And that's a hell of a golden hoop earring.



Don't make the mistake of thinking he's wussier in the PETA comic; near the end of the story, he frees an elephant by snapping its steel chain with his bare hands. The lesson is clear: Don't fuck with elephants, or you'll have to deal with "the hairiest, scariest, craziest jarhead that ever scratched, kicked, and bit his way out of that hole-in-the-swamp they call Parris Island!"

Collectcorp sends some collectcrap

Well, it's been a while since we've heard from Harlequin and the Reader Service. But of course, them having passed the issue of Ruddy Ruddy's putative debt on to Collectcorp, we're not likely to hear from them again. They've washed their hands of Ruddy Ruddy, and good riddance. ("And the same to you, fellas!" Ruddy Ruddy might say if he existed.)

But it is with delight that I open today's nondescript envelope to find a letter from Collectcorp. Frankly, I thought the Reader Service was just dropping Collectcorp's name as a scare tactic, but it seems like they do indeed have a working relationship. And I rejoice at the idea that no less than three companies have wasted their time trying to shake down an imaginary person for an imaginary debt of $19.09. Even the return envelope is utterly blank.

A question comes to mind, however: Why are letters from collection agencies -- assuming this one to be an average one -- nondescript? This one is plain white, offers no name to go along with the return address, and is merely marked "FIRST CLASS" AND "PERSONAL & CONFIDENTIAL" on the front.

Why not conspicuously show itself off? Why not have the name of the collection agency blazing from the envelope in 48-point type? Why not use bold yellow type on black paper? And why not stamp "PAY NOW, DEADBEAT!" on the front? Not only would such a letter be harder to ignore -- you could hardly accidentally (or deliberately) fail to notice that you'd gotten a letter from a collection agency -- but it would also shame you in front of the mailman and the community and send the message that you could count on being exposed to opprobrium with every future letter until you'd made restitution. Who cares what the mailman thinks, you ask? Everyone. It's the reason porn magazines are mailed out in plain brown wrappers. Even perverts care what the mailman thinks.

But what's the letter inside say, you ask? Here you go:

Default and Recovery Division

Collectcorp Inc.
514 Yonge Street, Suite 700
Toronto, Ontario, M5B 2E7

July 31, 2004

RE: HARLEQUIN ENTERPRISES
Account No.: 604987842 350
Amount Owing : $19.09
Case Number : 01-042121218

MANDATORY PROCEEDINGS NOTICE

You are hereby notified that all proceedings are ready in accordance with issuing a statement of claim in regards to the above account.

If you intend to avoid the possible expense of legal action it is imperative that we receive your certified cheque, money order or Visa/Mastercard payment within 48 hours. There is still time to protect your credit rating.

Notify us immediately of your intention.

Govern yourself accordingly,

MR BREITHAUPT

I love that -- "Govern yourself accordingly." It's such a threatening warning, as in, "Watch what you say and do in the days ahead, for ever-vigilant eyes are upon you, and you shall be weighed on the scales of justice."

Actually, I kind of like that. I wouldn't mind getting a job at Collectcorp and writing threatening, semi-mystical collection letters that sound like they're coming from a dark, shadowy organization like the Freemasons or Cigarette-Smoking Man and his co-conspirators on The X-Files or maybe even a Cthulhu cult. I'd also like to deliver them via a note wrapped around a brick hurled through the recipient's window.

I wonder: Does the mysterious Mr Breithaupt actually exist? I mean, if you were picking a nom de plume under which to write intimidating letters, you could do worse than to pick one with slightly sinister Germanic overtones. "Herr Breithaupt" might be going a little far, but the surname alone gives a very subtle suggestion that the guy writing these letters just might be a former concentration camp commandant. Naturally, Breithaupt doesn't get a first name (we're not on a first-name basis) but I like to imagine that it's Horst.

But a gem from the letter that hasn't been mentioned is that there's still time to protect Ruddy Ruddy's credit rating. I'd love to actually run a credit check on Ruddy Ruddy and see what his credit rating is actually like, if he has one. It would be humiliating if it were better than mine, though.

Govern yourself accordingly.

Mrs or Miss? Tylenol's hit-or-miss approach

In one hand, I have a letter from Tylenol addressed to Miss Ruddy Ruddy. In the other hand, I have a letter from Tylenol that arrived around the same time as the first and is addressed to Mrs. Ruddy Ruddy. (You may ask how I am typing with both hands occupied. To this, I answer: shut up.)

Why is Tylenol having such a hard time figuring out if Ruddy Ruddy is married or not? Are the demographics of Ruddy Ruddy even more complicated than previously thought? To answer, I must open each envelope. Doing so reveals that the letter to Mrs. Ruddy Ruddy is written in English, while the letter to Miss Ruddy Ruddy is written in French.

And so the answer becomes clear: The French refuse to acknowledge the marriage of Ruddy Ruddy. But why? Is it because they refuse to recognize lesbian unions (going by the theory, discussed last time, that Ruddy Ruddy may be a juvenile transgendered lesbian)? Is it because these latters were sent during that brief window of time in which Ontario recognized gay marriage but Quebec didn't?

Or is it because the French are planning to seduce Ruddy Ruddy and therefore choose to address her as a single woman in hopes that she might forget about her husband altogether? This is more likely. The French are both bold and wily as seducers.

But another question arises: Why does this French letter (an actual French letter -- not to be confused with the colloquial French letter, which is a condom) address Ruddy Ruddy as "Miss" and not "Mademoiselle" or "Mlle"? What deception is this, to make a person open an envelope addressed in English, only to find a letter written in French?

And once again: Is Ruddy Ruddy married or not?

Once again, too many questions. All this uncertainty about Ruddy Ruddy's identity is giving me a headache. And if I didn't happen to have two envelopes full of samples of Tylenol right here, that would be a problem.

Baby, baby

As part of my ongoing efforts to work my way though the backlog of mail, I've opened three new packages sent by Enfamil to Dr. Ruddy Ruddy. I could have spaced them out and opened them separately to make for more updates, but what more do I have to say about Enfamil that I didn't cover last time?

But before I get to the actual contents of the envelopes, I must address something that has increasingly come to puzzle me.

It's difficult to reconcile all the demographic hints I've gotten from various mailers about Ruddy Ruddy. Enfamil says that Ruddy Ruddy is a doctor, while CBH Ministries seems to think Ruddy is a child. Fine -- it's possible Ruddy is some kind of Doogie-Howser-like child prodigy (a theory bolstered by the fact that Doogie Howser, who typed journal entries into his computer at the end of every episode, was a proto-blogger). But what of the Chicken Farmers of Ontario? (More on them in a future update.) As you may recall, they addressed their mail to Mrs. Ruddy Ruddy. Can all this be reconciled? Could Ruddy Ruddy be not only a child prodigy, but also a child bride?

I can work with all that. After all, why wouldn't a genius get married early? Having adult relationships surely goes hand in hand with having an adult intellect, as many an embittered ex-girlfriend has forcefully reminded me.*

But what about the Office of the Commissioner of Official Languages, who addresses mail to Mr. Ruddy Ruddy? (and more on them later too.) Am I to conjecture that Ruddy Ruddy is, in addition to a child bride and a child prodigy, a male-to-female transsexual, and that the government just doesn't have the updated information yet?

Well, sure, why not? Ruddy Ruddy is a doctor, is he/she not? So it stands to reason that if Ruddy were to decide to have "the operation", he/she could probably get it done a lot more easily than most, owing to professional connections and the financial resources afforded by a doctor's salary. And if you're going to have a sex change operation, wouldn't the best time to do it be before puberty? At that point, none of the hormones have really kicked in yet, so a boy could make the transition into womanhood with a brilliant, penetrating castrato singing voice and no fear of future male pattern baldness.

So it's settled: Ruddy Ruddy is a married child doctor who happens to be a male-to-female transsexual. I feel better having worked that out.

Now, as for what's actually in the three Enfamil envelopes. Well, it turns out that two of them are actually exactly the same, so we're really just talking about two envelopes, one of which has a duplicate. One envelope contains some index cards with information on babies aged 0-2 months, and the other two have information on babies aged 3-5 months. For example, at 0-2 months, "your baby may be able to coo and make soft baby sounds", which makes perfect sense, baby sounds being the exact kind of sounds you might expect a baby to make. I wonder how long Enfamil will keep up the program. I'd like to see them send advice on babies aged 180-192 months, discussing such topics as when to let them begin dating.

The bright point is that the two identical envelopes each contain a big, round refrigerator magnet, which I initially mistook for a drink coaster and may end up using for that purpose anyway. The great benefit here is that having two coasters instead of only one means that I can have a friend over for a drink now and then. Enfamil is doing its part to make it easier for me to entertain, which can be particularly hard when you have a baby, as the folks at Enfamil seem to think Ruddy does, unless they think Ruddy is a pediatrician, which makes sense, what with being a doctor and all.

But it seems like they think that Ruddy has the baby, judging by the way all the material is written. It all makes reference to "your baby" and refers explictly to parenthood. So Ruddy Ruddy is apparently a parent.

How does this fit with everything else we know about Ruddy Ruddy? Who had the baby? A post-op Ruddy Ruddy? If so, that sex change operation was a miracle of science. Or was it Ruddy Ruddy's spouse. Is the male-to-female transsexual Ruddy Ruddy married to a female-to-male transsexual (why not? Opposites attract) who was the one who birthed the child? Or is Ruddy Ruddy in fact married to an actual woman? Lesbian weddings are legal in Canada now, after all.

Thinking about this is starting to make my brain hurt. Maybe it was better before when I didn't know anything about who or what Ruddy Ruddy was.

*Not really true. I mean, like I could possibly have many a girlfriend to start with.