[1]For years I’ve gotten bizzaro mail from someone who likes to pose as other people. The same bad handwriting, odd, ransom note type cut and paste jobs, often mailed with a Cincinnati cancellation on the stamp.
Most of the time there isn’t a return address, but on occasion it’s someone I know, or someone I’ve heard of. Sometimes it has newspaper clippings in the envelope- sometimes there are things taped on the back from a newspaper… it varies. One time he even sent me a dollar- I’d like more of those please.
None of it makes sense, is funny, or even cute. Sometimes the messages border on hate mail. The Postal inspectors don’t want to give you the time of day- unless there is an overt threat.
None of this bothers me. What bothers me, is that he sometimes sends other people mail with my name as the return address- and that the people who get it- actually think I have time to write crap like this.
At the Greek fest this year, I ran into someone from my home town (she knows who she is) who thought I’d been sending her mail. I told her I had a ton of it- and planned to write something about it on this site (so, I procrastinated a bit- don’t shoot me) and see if we can collectively figure out who this wack job is.
If you’ve gotten mail from me- and it’s not on my Next Wave letterhead- contact me.
I know that both the Mayor and the Downtown Dayton Partnership have received mailings (both replied to me). There are probably others.
To whoever it is that’s doing this- get a life. And, I dare you to print this out and send it to me- and sign your name.
As a recipient of some “fan mail” from one of David’s other readers, I can attest that this does happen and it is a little annoying and unnerving.
In my case, the content of the letter wasn’t really threatening, but someone was obviously having fun playing mind games and making a point of letting me know that he knew who I was and how to find me.
I decided not to let it bother me. It’s just the cost of being friends with someone who is in the public eye and who (sorry, David) is really good at pushing people’s buttons.
8-)
Since I’ve gotten to know David, I have experienced what I call the “Esrati Effect” too many times to count. People I’ve known for years look at me a little funny when they find out that David and I are friends.
I even had one prospective date tell me that he didn’t think he could get involved with me if I continued to “hang out with someone like David Esrati”. So I thanked him for letting me know how shallow he was and told him to get lost.
What’s with these people? This isn’t high school—we’re not supposed to be concerned with being popular. We’re supposed to be concerned with having interesting, intelligent friends we can count on.
When someone says something negative to me about David, it tells me a whole lot more about their character than it does about his.
I’m actually using it as a litmus test now. If you have a problem with him, you’ll have an even bigger problem with me. Knowing that in advance weeds out the losers pretty fast and saves me a lot of time and energy.
Don’t worry, David. Those of us who know you and love you know that you aren’t responsible for the junk mail. Anyone who doesn’t know that is an idiot. And as for the people who send it: You suck!
Thanks for the support Pam.
One of the things I hated about the “Dayton Politics” site- was the anonymous comments- if you have something worth saying- it’s worth signing your name.
Gutless, spineless people are the bane of a civilized society.
Ones who pretend to be someone else- are even lower.
In these days of “democratized media” where everyone can be a publisher- we must reconsider the value of hiding behind a mask.
And as a reminder to all- when I donned the mask in City Hall, everyone knew exactly who I was, even if they couldn’t figure out the message right away.
To the idiot that decided not to date Pam: your loss. She’s an amazing friend, and an amazing person.
Wow, Pam … good call naming the “Esrati Effect”! Thought I was the only one who experienced this … ;-)
Dayton wouldn’t be the same without the interesting, informed personalities who invest countless time and passion into promoting this hopeful little hamlet of ours. I admit David rubbed me the wrong way when I first heard of him years ago (for freely expressing his opinion, as is as natural to him as breathing, about the writing ability of a peer and good friend at what once was Impact Weekly), but when I got to know him better, I realized that’s just who he is. For better or worse, you will never doubt about what he really thinks. And he’s been nothing but honest. For that, I truly appreciate his friendship.
And he’s a “dog person” (dog owner). That gives him bonus points, anyhow!
Cheers, David!
Wacko man has been busy of late- 1 on Saturday- 2 today. his newest prize inclusion is the “Esrati Scale”- developed at WSU.
The guy needs a life.
FYI from my brother in the CSI lab: Fingerprints on paper and cardboard can last up to 40 years.
I’ve gotten 2 pieces of Wacko mail this week-
the latest has 3 “flyers” in it, rants about Sandy Mendelson’s clearance sale- and a second piece about gold teeth- and then the third piece mentions Beth Duke.
Whoever writes these is on the Downtown Dayton Partnerships mailing list- but, they aren’t interested in tracking the person down- because, of course- they actually believed that some of it was from me (duh) since he likes to forge return mail addresses.
He sent one a few weeks ago about Jane Lynch at Green & Green- and he used to take shots at Bob Jaffe- the jeweler.
Anyone else have some insight on who wacko mailer may be?
Oh, yeah, he’s now added a computer to his inventory of wacko mail generating tools- (typically a bad copiers, a typewriter and scissors).
If you just took the money he’s wasted on stamps- he could make a nice contribution to the Dayton Foundation- but, preferably- he’d do it posthumously.
How do I get on the mailing list? Seriously though David, I might have a vague suspicion of who this person might be, and it’s not exactly the obvious suspect. When you say ‘for years’ approxamately how many years?