READING IS FUCKINMENTAL / Jason Matthew Smith

EVERYONE KNOWS IT’S WENDY

Dave Thomas, You Were A God Among Men

When I was in college, my girlfriend (who foolishly became my wife some years later) worked at Wendy’s. At closing time, I’d tap on the drive-through window, and she’d let me in so could gorge myself on all the free leftover burgers, ice cream, and chili I could cram down my gullet. Eat. Puke. Eat again. Jesus, I loved Wendy’s. Still do. That’s why I just about shit up my back when I learned about Joe Wendroth’s book, Letters to Wendy’s (Wave Books, 2000). Here’s the fiendishly clever idea: The book is a series of notes to Wendy’s management, ostensibly written on comment cards, from an unnamed narrator who sings the praises of the fast food chain. He also posits a few suggestions, such as establishing Wendy’s as a place for public executions. It’s sort of like a collection of prose poems, really. Sometimes disgusting, sometimes pornographic, always a thrill, the book can be read in about the same time it takes a typical Wendy’s crew to close down the restaurant for a night—couple of hours, max. My newfound purpose in life is to read this book while at Wendy’s, and film the whole thing for YouTube. Look for it.

Jason Matthew Smith is a Texan who never developed an accent, thanks to a steady diet of television reruns during his formative years. He now lives in Utah, where everyone thinks he sounds just like John Astin, the original Gomez Addams.