2007-Eleven Read Free

on a motorcycle through the streets of New York, overturning cop cars and fruit carts. The bus crashes into a fast-food restaurant. (Endorsements?) They wrestle, and just as he’s about to bestrangled, Holden thrusts Christopher Walken’s head into a bubbling French fryer. The red hunting cap floats to the surface.
    As for that concluding scene where Holden returns to torch his old sanitarium, we keep it—BUT, IT’S A DREAM!
    Or is it?
    One last thought: What if we were to say Macauley Culkin would absolutely KILL THE POPE to play Holden Caulfield in a flashback sequence? Not that we care. But think about it. Cul
kin
? Caul
field?
Is this fate or what?
    We KNOW this can’t miss! Then again, we’re not married to it. If you’ve got a better idea, PITCH US! We can’t wait to hear from you. But this time, could you try and get back to us sooner?

GlenGarry Glen Plaid

    Excerpts from the new Land Ho! catalog,

as it might be written by David Mamet.
    O UR FLANNEL SHIRTS ARE WARM AS A CUP OF COCOA!
    The great flannel shirts you had, what do you remember about them? Not the pattern. Not the sleeves. Maybe it was the collar, the way it caressed your neck. Maybe it had a smell. Maybe it was the easy way it hung on you, like a drunk temp at an office party. Friend,
this
is a flannel. Most flannel shirts weigh eight ounces, they’re crap. This weighs
ten
ounces. When it’s so cold outside your balls shrink up like croutons, those extra two ounces are ounces of
gold.
    But you can’t have these shirts.
    They are not for the likes of you. These shirts are for
preferred customers.
If you called last year, youcould have bought one, maybe, but not now. It’s too late, they’re sold out. They won’t be avail—huh? What’s that, Gladys? We do have a few in stock?
Tonight only?
Well, pal, you just got lucky. You’ve got eight hours to get in on the ground floor. Of course, you can talk it over with your wife. How many should I put you down for? Seven? Nine? AND THE ALL-COTTON FABRIC GUARANTEES COMFORT!
    ALL HAIL CHINOS! EVERYONE SHOULD OWN A PAIR!
    You think chinos are queer? Let me tell you something: Everybody’s queer. So what? You cheat on your wife? Live with it. You own a pair of bell-bottoms? Deal with it. At least these chinos have a fly that stays up, and you’re not paying a hundred dollars for some piece of puke-colored polyester. Right now, you’re asking, What do I want from a pair of pants? Comfort? Durability? A name?
An investment?
Listen: When you’re in the accident, and they’re cutting off your bloodstained trousers in that emergency room, who cares if you’re wearing an expensive label? MACHINE WASHABLE, TOO!
    OUR STIRRUP PANTS DON’T COST AN ARM AND A LEG!
    You bitched about our Stirrup Pants. We heard you. Christ Almighty, everybody in the state heard you. We trimmed the legs, so even with your fat thighs, you won’t look like a Buick. We stitched up the back to prevent pulling. You guys know what
pulling
is? It’s when the pants pull down on a chick’s ass, because the things are strapped to her goddamn
feet.
Smart, eh? Like all anybody needed was a strap to hold pants
down.
Whatever happened to straps that held pants
up?
Ever hear of belts? Broads. Don’t get me started. Look, this isn’t about backstitching or yuppie fashions or why a nickel is bigger than a dime. It’s about
men and women.
Screw it. I need a drink. AND THE SEAMLESS STIRRUPS MEAN EXTRA COMFORT!
    MEET OUR MOCK: THE TURTLE ALTERNATIVE WITH A LITTLE LESS “HUG!”
    You don’t like turtlenecks? You say they’re too tight? What are you, some wussy? Can’t handle the pressure from a fifty-fifty blend? What do
you
know from pressure? You sit there in your chintzyhouse, and
you can’t deal with a turtleneck?
Jesus Christ.
    You know, this pisses me off. You don’t know squat about running a business or about publishing a catalog. You just sit there, looking at all the shiny, pretty pictures, and when you
do
finally call, you