Who’s the realist?
April 17, 2002
Thanks for printing Pete Luhn’s letters. Reading them makes me feel smart.
Most recently, Pete has challenged me to prove that I really exist. Just how in hell am I supposed to do that? Aristotle couldn’t prove it; I doubt if I can.
Just the same, how does Pete think these words end up in the paper? Do they fall from the sky and land in the editorial section, a gift to all of us, just to make him look silly? Maybe they mystically appear here as an omen. Perhaps he ought to shut up and stop messin’ with me.
Listen up, Pete. For the record, I’m as real as your bad attitude!
It’s ironic that you think I’m not real. I happen to think that you, who recently claimed to be the first person ever to ski Highland Bowl, are the biggest blow-hard, Johnnie-come-lately phony that I’ve heard of in this town. And that’s saying a lot!
So, it seems we have a dilemma. Who’s more real, you or me? Why don’t we set up one of your stupid contests to see who’s the “realist”?
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So you don’t chicken out, the challenge will involve something you’re good at. We’ll have a pancake eating and coffee drinking contest at the Weinerstube! We’ll get your grumpy old friend at the fuddy-duddy Aspen Times, Andy Stone, to stir the pot and put more fuel on the fire. If nothing else, at the end of the day you’ll be stuffed full of something else for a change.
Editor’s note: In our never-ending pursuit to get at all the facts, we called the phone number attached to Mr. Coghi’s letter. A gentleman answered the phone, “This is Todd.” Consider this case settled.