Dear Trustees of the Electoral College,

Yowza. Your school rocks. Honestly, I keep hearing so much about the “controversial” Electoral College. Seems like there is no sexy story in the 2020 news that doesn’t feature the Electoral College. I honestly hadn’t heard of you guys before. You must really be doing something right. 

Because I want to get in on the action, I am applying for early placement to the Electoral College’s Spring 2021 Freshman class. You’ll need to let me know ASAP because the robotic app GetAccepted sent out applications to 261 other colleges. Let’s just say I’ve taken it in the shorts with a few rejections. Right now, though, I have been accepted at the esteemed South Dakota State Long Haul Truck Drivers Road-A-Versity. If it comes to a decision, I’d choose the Electoral College hands down. 

Because your Electoral College application page seems to be missing from the Internet, I need a few details about the Electoral College’s main campus. Do you have one? Is that main campus anywhere in the continental United States? Are the dorms unisex? What date in January does the frat rush begin? Will the prison tattoo on my forehead be a drawback with the sororities? 

What, you are probably asking, could this guy possibly offer our Electoral College’s incoming class?

First of all, check out my transcript. You’ll see I’m in sync with what must be your curriculum (only guessing because there is no course catalog online). I really dig the political world. Back in high school, I got my political feet wet with my Advanced Placement shop classes. My AP teacher, also the junior varsity football coach, said my achievement turning out 104 teak ashtrays would never be equaled, and that wooden ashtrays, although flammable, could be useful in political back rooms. Later, while in the joint, I also took online zoom seminars in Duplicity, Fake News, and Election Rigging at Trump University. I did fail Administrative Corruption, but only because I was in solitary for that little riot at the weight bench in the rec yard.

I have extensive extra-curricular contact with government officials. My arrest for taking down names off the gravestones at the local cemetery, then registering those folks in a voter drive, led to an extended learning experience with courtrooms, trials, guilty verdicts, and jail transport vehicles. (I am awaiting a presidential pardon). After a year inside, I excelled in my 1,000 hours of court-ordered community service, cleansing a half-mile section of County Road 41 by picking up potato chip bags, ciggy butts, discarded underwear, and used condoms. You’ll also know that one day I even did so well, they let me ride shotgun on the way back to the corporation yard. (reference letter enclosed).

With my application, you’ll see three other letters of recommendation. One is from Abraham Lincoln (not the president), my bunkmate at the Honor Rancho. Another is from Rudy Giuliani (not that guy) my counselor at the Honor Rancho. The last is from Rosa Tarpitz—my mom. Every letter extols my exciting creativity with the truth on the witness stand in my court trials.  

Before you mention tuition, I need to know if you have a rowing team. If you do, bringing me on as an oar-schlepper (as long as I really don’t have to do it) would be a win-win for both of us. I get the watercraft scholarship and Electoral College gets a promise from my folks to sponsor a signed memorial tile in the new Presidential lavatory in the Admin building (if the Electoral College has one).

If that doesn’t work out, I must admit I am a little short in the wallet after getting out of the joint. So… I will need a full-ride academic scholarship, plus a monthly stipend to pay for my spring break bar-hopping action in Florida. Plus a car (used is fine). 

I am eager to hear from you and will be severely disappointed if I don’t get accepted for the 2021 Freshman Year at Electoral College. If I don’t make it, your Dean of Admissions better be looking over his or her shoulder when walking dark streets at night.

Sincerely,
Rusty Tarpitz (Applicant)



John Hewitt is a California resident and former Army cook. His last absurdist novel was “Freezer Burn”, the story of a nearly dead ferret who enchants the music world.