Date: Tue, May 2, 2000 12:10 PM -0700
From: lawn-news1@amazon.com
To: da3a@andrew.cmu.edu
Subject: New stores are springing up at Amazon.com
Dear Amazon Customer,
I have an extreme case of spring fever. And Amazon.com's new Lawn &
Patio and Kitchen stores have a lot to do with it.
Our Lawn & Patio store has everything you need to spruce up your
yard. Weber grills, Black & Decker mulching mowers, Fiskars tree
pruners--the selection is amazing. And if it's information you're
looking for, we've got buying guides and articles that will turn
brown thumbs green and green thumbs greener.
Come explore: http://www.amazon.com/lawnandpatio
Does spring bring out the chef in you? Then try our new Kitchen
store. It's brimming with thousands of culinary essentials for
novices and gourmets alike. Calphalon, Cuisinart, Henckels,
KitchenAid--we've got all the top brands. While you're there, check
out our hands-on editorial reviews and fresh ideas for springtime
entertaining from world-renowned chefs and celebrities.
Go to: http://www.amazon.com/kitchen
So stop by Amazon.com today. And get the things you need to make the
most of the season.
Sincerely,
David Risher
Senior VP and Avid Amazon.com Shopper
U.S. Retail
P.S. Our other stores are joining in the excitement of the Lawn &
Patio and Kitchen store openings too.
- In Books, save 40% off all American Horticultural Society titles
and Cook's Illustrated titles.
- In Toys, ride-on bubble mowers and Easy Bake Ovens are 50% off.
- In Software, enjoy a $20 rebate on the deluxe version of Complete
LandDesigner 3-D Design software.
P.P.S. I hope you enjoyed receiving this message. However, if you'd
rather not receive any future notices of this sort from Amazon.com,
please visit your Amazon.com Subscriptions page:
http://www.amazon.com/unsubscribe
Please note that this message was sent to the following e-mail
address:
da3a@andrew.cmu.edu
Date: Tue, May 2, 2000 4:34 PM -0400
From: Daniel Arp <da3a@andrew.cmu.edu>
To: lawn-news1@amazon.com
Subject: Amazon dot me faster
Dear Amazon.com:
I've got the fever too. For you, Amazon. You feel the spring in the
air? I
feel it in my step. Your new Lawn & Patio and Kitchen stores have a
lot to
do with it, but then there's also the tremendous savings on books and
music and toys and ideas. Webers and Deckers and Pruners (oh my!) -- I
can
feel the surge in my blood, the ache and the longing of this crush.
Will
it ever end? Or is this courting of corporate favor destined to go
unrequited?
You ask me, "Does spring bring out the chef in you?" You are such a
tease,
Amazon. That's what I admire about you. I say "admire," because that
is
truly what I feel toward you: admiration and respect. This is more
than
consumer lust -- the impulsive desire to buy, buy, buy you out till
we're
both dry and empty, panting for breath and mouthing the words
"supply,"
"demand," "supply," "demand," with each in-breath and out-breath.
No, Amazon. Though this physical desire resides within me, my feelings
toward you as a corporation are infinitely more complex. Shall I shop
and
compare thee to a summer's day sale at Wal-Mart? Thy lawn product
prices
are more moderate, and more fair. And why? Why you, Amazon? I want to
figure you out, get inside you and see what makes you tick in that
upbeat,
virtual way of yours.
I want an hour inside your corporate lair. Just an hour to wander
through
the halls, stacked with plastic-wrapped nuggets of consumer joy. I
want to
explore these lanes and aisles: a, b, c, d, e, f, and g. Especially g.
I
want to run up and down, up and down your g-aisle and press into your
g-products with the force of a train. This is about more than
consumption,
Amazon. It is even about more than obsession. It is about love. There,
I
said it: L-O-V-E.
And now we both can rest, in our corporate-choked corners of the
world,
and suffer our fates: I a mere individual, you a gluttonous
corporation
with all the attendance of a bargain-hunting populace at your feet,
each
of us aching with our own loneliness and the impossibility of union. I
a
Montague, you a Capulet. 'Tis the east, and Amazon is the sun! And
this
sun speaks of a new season -- a spring that ushers in new epiphanies
and
purchases, new aches and pangs of consumer frenzy. An awakening of the
soul, the mind, the dormant winter wallet: I will buy, buy, buy,
Amazon,
until I can buy no more, getting the things you and I both need to
make
the most of the season.
All I ask in return is your Amazonian love.
Sincerely,
Daniel Arp
Rabid Amazon.com shopper
Date: Wed, May 3, 2000 3:29 PM -0700
From: orders@amazon.com
To: Daniel Arp <da3a@andrew.cmu.edu>
Subject: Your Amazon.com Inquiry
Dear Daniel,
Greetings from Amazon.com.
What a refreshing message! I so enjoyed your accolades, and am very
glad to know that we have such a devoted customer in you. It is so
nice to hear that you enjoy shopping with us so, and you are not
afraid to tell us! Thank you so much for taking the time to write
in.
I do hope that you will continue your adoration, and that we continue
to show you the best service, prices, and selection that you could
ever find. Please let us know if there is ever anything we may do for
you. I hope that you are able to find a treasure or two soon, as to
quench your thirst for Amazon.com.
Thank you so much, Daniel, for your kind and heartfelt words. I look
forward to your next visit. I hope that you have a pleasant day!
Best regards,
Jenna Lowell
Earth's Biggest Selection
http://www.amazon.com
Date: Wed, May 3, 2000 7:09 PM -0400
From: Daniel Arp <da3a@andrew.cmu.edu>
To: orders@amazon.com
Subject: Re: Your Amazon.com Inquiry
Dear Amazon:
Oh wow. Wow wow wow. Wow wow wow wow. You're so turning me on right now
to savings. I want to gobble em up like candy. I've never been so hard
up for cash as at this point in my life, yet you continue to service me
with hot, mind-blowing consumer satisfaction, at prices that get me off
my couch and on the internet.
I hope you don't consider it too forward of me that I sent you an
e-card,
Amazon. (It's a little note with a picture of the suicidal virgins. Hope
you like it!) I just wanted to repay you for your warm, affectionate
reply
to my message. It meant a lot to me, as has the witty back-and-forth
I've
enjoyed with you while surfing your web site. "Click here, Daniel Arp."
"Click there, Daniel Arp." You big tease. I'll click anywhere you want,
Amazon. Where do you want me to click next?
I just had an impulse: Could you give me an address to send you flowers?
I'm usually not this forward with corporations, but I really think
there's
something special about you, Amazon (Who else in my life knows that I
totally want a book on ballroom dancing? Not even my estranged wife
would
have known that! Amazon, you literally keep a single guy on his toes!)
Let me give you my address, so this isn't so weird: 5208 Beeler St.;
Pittsburgh, PA 15217. My phone number is (412) 681-6578. (Whoops! I just
realized you know all that already! Ha ha, silly me! Oh well, for what
it's
worth...)
Whoa, I just thought of something: Do you sell flowers? Cause if you do
I
could just order them from you then send them back to you. Hold on, let
me
check your web site. Back in a sec...
Damn, no flowers. I guess I'll have to get them elsewhere. But I don't
want
to go anywhere else. This is where I want to be: right here with you. I
feel so close to you right now, Amazon. I feel the warmth of spring
touching us both, as though our pink quivering flesh were newborn and
raw.
Though we are separated by a concrete ocean, we are still touched by the
same sun. Isn't that a comfort? To know we are that close?
I would like very much if you gave me a call, Amazon. You could tell me
some of your special offers. I could provide you with some special
offers of my own. It wouldn't have to be a big deal, Amazon, we could
just
talk about whatever came to mind. I could tell you my idea for a tattoo.
Enticed?
Daniel Arp
Earth's Biggest Predilection
.for you, Amazon
Date: Thu, May 4, 2000 5:01 PM -0700
From: orders@amazon.com
To: Daniel Arp <da3a@andrew.cmu.edu>
Subject: Your Amazon.com Order
Dear Mr. Arp:
Greetings from Amazon.com!
Thanks you for you kind words and your card. While we appreciate your
offer for sending us flowers it certainly is not necessary. Your kind
words are more than good enough for us.
It is because of customer comments like yours that we strive to be the
very best. I would like to extend our thanks to you for your loyalty
and very kind feedback. Without such customers as you, we could not
continue to provide the service and selection you've come to expect
from our store.
Your comments are greatly appreciated, and I sincerely thank you for
choosing Amazon.com!
Best regards,
Michael C. Lenington
Amazon.com
Earth's Biggest Selection
http://www.amazon.com
Date: Mon, May 8, 2000 2:05 PM -0400
From: Daniel Arp <da3a@andrew.cmu.edu>
To: orders@amazon.com
Subject: Re: Your Amazon.com Order
Dear Amazon:
And so now these desires drip drip drip like rain off a rooftop,
funneling
fears of the emptiness of death through a sieve of optimistic
purchase. I
am death, and you are life, Amazon. I count the hours between each
rendezvous as though counting the drip drip drip from that sad old
rooftop, a Chinese water torture of waiting, waiting for the next
check,
the next mouse click and impulse buy, my leg jerking as though from
electric shock waiting to buy and purchase and own. If I could only
own
you, Amazon. I see the smiling face of your founder, Jeff Bezos,
inside a
shipping box on the cover of Time Magazine, and I think, "If only..."
How
much is Jeff Bezos' smiling Man-of-the-Year mug worth? Alas, too much
for
my meager means. Shipping alone would be a nightmare of cost and
consequence. They would have to sedate him and send him in a cage,
like a
circus animal. To subdue him they'd have to shock him repeatedly with
a
cattle prod.
I don't want that. Especially since they'd have to do the same for me,
while I waited in my lonely afternoon corner for the delivery of a
lifetime, the delivery of you, Amazon, to my vacant residential
doorstep.
Oh, what an ugly word: residential. Don't you agree, Amazon?
Corporate: a
much better word. Corpe Diem. Incorporate the day, Amazon! If only we
could. If only this day could be corporatized, the way my life has
become
corporatized, swallowed up and pixellated in the service of you, my
field
of vision now a 17-inch flat screen displaying 1024 by 768 pixels in
millions of colors (all the pretty colors!). I have entered the
Amazone. I
see you everywhere, wherever I walk, your zippy logo imprinted on the
leaves of trees and blades of grass, the ground I tread sprinkled with
the
rose petals of your name: Amazon, Amazon, Amazon, the aching wounded
primitive call.
This is worse than my crush on Sallie Mae that lasted several years
after
college. But she was a hussy compared to you. She kept demanding,
taking
from me even after she had stopped giving, demanding interest,
interest,
pound upon pound of flesh for services once rendered, now withdrawn.
But
your services, like the cycle of days upon days, is neverending. Will
the
sun not come out? Will Amazon not ship my order, usually within 2-3
business days? Will the earth not spin, spin upon an axis of power and
exchange, the swirling worldwide daily buzzing of bees begging for
honey,
for venture capital, bodies and companies aching to merge like oceans
till
the world is blanketed under the raging waves of their market values,
crashing and rising according to the pull of an economic moon?
I and my shadow say: you and I will be united, released in this moment
of
corporate marriage. I will drown in your waters, my shadow will
disappear,
or perhaps I will disappear and my shadow will remain, a pixellated
(pixillated!) ghost exploring the links inside your virtual warehouse,
a
stick figure riding around in a shopping cart. I will be reduced and
satisfied as an icon on a screen, a commercial for myself. Or rather
for
you. This is all I want, to sell you, since I cannot be sold the way
you
can be sold, since I am only a human being whose wares, alas, could
not be
shipped without the above-mentioned difficulties and exorbitant costs,
human flesh without a web-presence, without even a web-absence, as
spiritually bankrupt as an Okie in the Dust Bowl, a graveyard ghost
like
Steinbeck's Muley, hiding out in a ruined plantation and seeking
purchase
for his dead seed.
But I am not worthless. I will go West, West to the land of the
Amazon. I
know I can help you. Why did you never call when I asked? Why did you
refuse my offer of flowers? I want only to make you happy, Amazon, to
hear
your voice. My idea for a tattoo? Your logo across my forehead. Your
logo
on my back. Your logo running like racing stripes down my legs. I am
willing to become a human billboard to please you! How can you refuse
my
offer? There has never been a more devoted customer, for customers
treat
corporations like dust or rocks, treat them only like they are there,
not
like they are the living, breathing, sweating presences they are,
teeming
with life and desire. So sweat on me Amazon. Bleed out your icons,
your
slogans, your mergers and acquisitions, and make sure all that
drip-drip-drips falls on me, your devoted servant, the one below you
on
bended knee.
And in closing this time, because my own words seem so poor, allow me
to
quote a favorite poet, T.S. Eliot, whose collected poems are only
$14.70
on your site, a savings of 30 percent off the damnable cover price.
Without further ado:
"Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels."
Let us go then, Amazon, and see what sells.
Your panting devoted slave-monkey,
Daniel Arp
Earth's Biggest Genuflection