The following letter was first published in SLAMM magazine in December, 2000. The letter was co-written by Half-Ass and Honey bucket, circa December 2000, after having read excerpts from my Alaska journals, also published in SLAMM.

Ed Decker

Attention Editorial Staff,
Ed Decker? I've known him well over a decade. I've slept upon his
couch numerous times, only once forced to sleep outside by his visiting mom,

Suela, while Ed spent the night at a bowling alley with Country Dick Montana and

the neighbor screwed a 'Screamer'.

Ed, so inspired by Robert Service that he plagiarized Sam McGee into

Stagger Lee, is a big doofus.

That's right ladies and gentlemen, my girlfriend and I have got the

evidence. Don't let this charlatan fool you with the bluff and bombast of a

'Bartender in Heat', fearless champion of Testes Robustus because it's all

malarkey.

Honeybucket and I slept at a Sam McGee constructed bridge and shared

our breakfast there with a one-eyed dog. We got a bud instead of a buck as

change in Whitehorse, where Robert Service was nearly shot in the head while

penning “The Cremation of Sam McGee” late at night.

The Yukon is real, so is Sam McGee.

Ed is a big doofus.

City-bred Ed sees a band of light in the Homer sky and asks, "Is that

the Northern Lights?"

“ No Ed, that's the Milky Way.”

It's taken Ed thirty-eight years to realize that the Milky Way is not just the candy bar he eats for breakfast.

We take Ed to a favorite bar, The Salty Dawg, whose regulars are

employed as what OSHA has determined to be the most dangerous job in the

United States. Ed nearly gets into a fight with a dozen Alaskan crabbers

for being such a New Yorky nerd.

In Seward, he even gains the contempt of a former Vietnam pilot who's already bought Ed a drink.

On so many occasions, our hero's only security seemed to be his

association with Honeybucket and her Toyota 'Flying Tiger'.

Again in Whittier, a town only recently connected to the rest of

civilization by a road, Ed was scared to explore the spooky abandoned

military complex known as the Buckner Building where Honeybucket and I

discovered the officer's lounge, operating room, movie theater, bowling

alley, mess hall, some place spray painted 'Fuck Room', an underground

tunnel, graffiti by seriously isolated teenagers, and the septic tanks

(where a noted local mountain racer stuck his head into thirty-seven year

old freeze dried shit... and threw a handful at Honeybucket).

Away from civilization Ed was like the kid in summer camp who always

had molten fuzzy candy in his pocket. When I hiked with Ed, I hiked with

bear bait.

To his credit, Ed did travel to Alaska impulsively, leaving behind 'MTV’s

SoCal Summer' (which a noted South Mission Beach surfer described as: "...

so gay").

And though it nearly killed him, Ed did summit a mountain peak.

But to his eternal and irrevocable shame, the final blasphemy occurred

in Anchorage, where Ed confided that he sought sordid illicit brothel sex.

Ed was in luck. Though technically illegal, according to Alaskan law it is

more illegal for the police to violate anyone's right to privacy. Along

with bears, mosquitoes, churches, ice cream and alcohol consumption, Alaska

also leads the United States in highest per capita illegal whorehouses; and

Ed was spending a week within walking distance of several.

Ed chose the Gentleman's Lounge near the apartments with the 'Hell's

Angels' archway. After partaking of tequila courage, Ed is led to, quote:

"... an Oriental goddess."

Heroically, this Chef Boyardee based life-form pretends he's forgotten

his money and must go to the bank.

Ed ran away with his tail firmly tucked between his legs and never

returned.

“Bartender in Heat” my ass.

Ed is a big (loveable) doofus.

Halfass and Honeybucket