Letters to the editor

From RW #21 (2005)

Good Day Good Doctors,

Decibators--great band. Fun guys. Great interview. Really enjoyed the other interviews as well, very colorful, entertaining, true to form and just downright fun and entertaining.

Just thought you might want to know, the name of the band in Columbia, MO that the Decibators are referring in the interview is The Ham, not the Him. Keep up the great work on the Reglar Wiglar.


Dr. Haguss E. Fernoss
The Ham
Director of Marketing & Promotions & Fart Gags

From RW #18 (2003)

Hello to all at Reglar Wiglar,

I was surprised, pleased and ashamed when I read yr article about/interview with Federation X. Surprised because they are from shoreworthy Bellingham, and you, Chicago. Pleased, because someone's finally paying attention to this fucking place, and ashamed (at myself) because I had never heard of them before 'til I read yr interview! Jesus Christ on a rotating spit, I am out of this "loop" we call the Bellingham scene. But thank you Illinois people for paying attention to it. Bellingham ain't so bad. We gots band and we gots some venues and we gots a mission to conquer the world with unique garage dudes.

Marissa Darlingh

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My name is Jeremy Reglar. I live in Adelaide, South Australia. I just discovered your magazine and now consider my melon well and truly twisted.

Jeremy Reglar

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Dear Chris, Joey, all the shitworkers, and Reglar Wiglar faithful,

Garage rock! Garage rock! Vrooom, vrooom, vroooom! Garage rockers! Hey! George from Garage Jacker Zine here. We've got to save the scene! Last week at the Drano Suckers/ Broke Cobras show, I had to wait too long to get a beer, because the bar was full of trendy posers! They drank all the cans of Shaeffer and I didn't know what else to order, because the Flophouse doesn't have PBR anymore, and Huber gives me a stomach ache. By the time I settled on a Budweiser, I had missed half the Cobra's set! I'm like their biggest fan in town. I was into them way before anyone else! If it wasn't for me, Trashy Tony Webster would've never put 'em on the Webster's Dictionary of Rawk 'N' Roll (Webster's Place Record cat. #4783) compilation! And because I had to spend extra for all my beers, I could only afford two t-shirts and a ten inch, and I really needed the new CD compilation of all their old singles. Of course, I've already got all the vinyl but the CDs got a different mix of "Drinkin' at the Drive-In"! that kicks way more ass. I'd also like to complain about how they raised the beer prices and how those losers probably don't have any of those Los Detroit Chumps import seven inches from Japan that I got in'99--TWO MONTHS BEFORE THEY WERE RELEASED DOMESTICALLY! Not to mention the split double seven inch with the Curly Cunthairs that you could only get through mail order from Half-Tanked Records if you know the secret password. I mean, come on, I was drinking cheap beer way before any of those posers. Have you seen how long they wear their wallet chains??!! And what's up with those shoes??!!!!???! Obviously, they don't know anything about real Garage Rock. Well, enough complaining, I'm here to fix shit. I just want to put the word out to all the true Garage Rockers out there that Our Scene is being infiltrated by posers and I don't want to see them take over and ruin it for the true believers in Real Raw Rock and Roll and All It Stands For, like us. It was posers that forced me out of the rockabilly scene. I had to get out of the alternative country scene after it got taken over by posers: next week, at the Deadly Girdles show, we're gonna tell all the posers that the AfroPicks and the Fatal Fartbombs are playing Saturday night at the old abandoned warehouse. Since they're posers, they won't know what the 'Picks broke up last week and that the 'Bombs aren't playing in town until their record release show next month at the Tidy Bowl (Toady from Greasy Whisky Records played me a couple of tracks--just rough mixes but it RIPS!). Then we'll have the scene back! I think I can get some nitroglycerin from my cousin's boss's buddy, who races dragsters and is totally down with the garage rock scene, he sold a bass amp to Dave from the Ice Cold Sox, back when they were just the Cold Sox. If anybody needs to get a hold of me before that, I'll be out in front of the Gravy Lovers show at the Lo-Dive selling copies of my zine. Oh yeah, I almost forgot! Garage Jacker #7 is out now! It's only $4.00, it's thirty-nine pages long, and it's got interviews with Dale from Skid Mark Records, Larry Joe from Party 'Till You Puke Records, Marco from Twist o' Caca Records, Skutch from Zapped by Beer Records, Jay from Toilet Paper Records, Jay from Grrrr Age Records, and Steve from Skunkhole Record Distribution. Also, tons of record reviews, and a bunch of kick ass ads from totally cool record labels.

Kick out the Jams, Brothers and Sisters,

George Jacker
Garage Jacker 'Zine

P.S., I've got some advice for all of you out there lookin' to get some fresh ink. My new 'naked lady dice tattoo got infected because I took the bandages off early because I didn't want to look like a fuckin' pussy at the Screamin' Shakin' Burndown Weekend, where Randy Wrongwrong and the Allrights blew everyone away (as usual), and The Lazy Kotters got back together but it sucked because there was too much bass in the mix and Ronnie's sideburns weren't long enough. Don't let this happen to you! Keep your jacket on so no one can see the bandages.

P.P.S., Don't tell too many people about our plan to blow up the posers.

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Dear Reglar Wiglar,

My butler just finished reading Reglar Wiglar #17 to me. Firstly, thank you for interviewing me for your fine magazine. I don't know if you saw us on Letterman, but Fabio, our bass player, was wearing a Reglar Wiglar t-shirt. His girlfriend, the wealthy young socialite Paris Spleen, bought it for him off your website, www.reglarwiglar.com, for only twelve dollars. That's a lot less then we normally pay for T-shirts much less clean or stylish.

Please find enclosed a check for $25.00 for one white and one black Reglar Wiglar tee shirt.

J. Pierpont Morgan IV
The White Strokes

From RW #17 (2002)

Here finally is your check for three subscriptions to your hard hitting, journalistic contributions to the underbelly of society a.k.a. the Reglar Wiglar.

Mike Mellskog
Minneapolis, MN

P.S. I'll pay extra for the director's cut editions. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink, know what I mean? That Britney Spears exposé I know you did. The one with all the web cam shower pictures. That was the Wiglar wasn't it?

From RW #16 (2001)

Reglar Wiglar,

Thank you for not only sending #15, but for reviewing Polka Scene Zine once again. Lil' Robbie especially loved it!

The staff at PSZ appreciates your polka self. Enclosed is issue #18. Hope you enjoy it.

Polka on!


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Dear Mom & Dad,

College is way cool. I love it and am having a blast. My roommates, Jenny and Tara, are way cool too. You would love them and I already met a great guy. I think you guys (yes, even you Dad) would approve of Tad.

The food at the cafeteria isn't all that great and I have a pretty heavy class load during the week (which I have a feeling is going to get pretty hectic), but this weekend me and a bunch of kids on my floor are going to drop acid and go to the beach so that should be fun. Well, gotta go to my World Civ class. I'll write more next week.

Love you.


From RW #15 (2001)

Reglar Wiglar,

Thanks for wigging me out. This issue (RW#14) seemed thicker than usual, no? Yes? Maybe? (No--Ed.) I'll go get my tape measure. You know, I was laughing at (not with) the stoopid letters section, and then I realized that was my letter. Did I really leave off the comma after "pig fucking"? At any rate, the Wig earns my seal of approval for humor . . . although you made Sam Henderson not funny, and there wasn't enough "Peg", but I forgave you this time.

Jesse Reklaw

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Reglar Wiglar,

If you've read the return address, you won't fucking believe who this letter is from, (cough) uh, Ann from Wisconsin. Ack! I feel so dirty. I finally sucked it up and moved to Chicago--that's why I've been so quiet and not, um, sending you any harassing letters lately. Due to the fact that no jobs in my heartbreakingly lovely, but third world-like homeland, pay more than eight bucks and hour. Anyway, you have every right to laugh your ass off at me . . . but I will always be a Packer fan by crikey!

Yours in shame,

Ann from Wisconsin

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Reglar Wiglar,

I've got three days leave from the action so I thought I'd drop you guys a line and see how you were doing. How's Susie? I heard she got a part in the school play. That's swell.

This war is tearing me up inside--I've seen kids die out here and it doesn't seem like there's anything that me or anyone else can do about it and it makes me sick and angry.

The Captain says the fighting will be over by Christmas but there isn't one kid in the whole Company who believes him.

Tell Aunt Esther, thanks for the goof balls.

David Mulrooney

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Reglar Wiglar,

I just finished issue #14 of Reglar Wiglar and now I'm just sitting here scratching my head and reflecting on it. Some of it was really good (in particular the band interviews and Jesse Reklaw and Sam Henderson's comics), and some of it was really bad (the Idiotorial and most of the record reviews) and the rest of it I had a hard time formulating an opinion for, sorta like Furbies. The cover was pretty cheesy too, but overall, it was entertaining enough.

Aaron Metzger


I agree with you on all your points except as regards to Furbies. There is no ambiguity in my feelings towards Furbies!

Chris Auman, Editor

From RW #14 (2000)


Please accept the enclosed comic submission for your upcoming issue. I was referred to you by the little known, yet highly acclaimed music critic, Nick Sondy, author of the award-winning Jim O'Rourke record review (RW#13). It was one of the few worth reading in that issue.

I hope you will accept my comic. I call it the "Idiotorial Process". It illustrates what I imagine a typical Reglar Wiglar staffer goes through in order to come up with the crap you print.

I tried to read the Reglar Wiglar cover to cover. It was extremely stupid and it gave me a headache. There was little or no redeeming value whatsoever. Your reviews are meaningless. In the Tom Waits Mule Variations "review" the "writer" asks, "What could I possibly say in this shitty zine about the new Tom Waits record that would change anyone's mind one way or another." That's his period at the end of his sentence, I end questions with question marks. He continues, "I'm not a freakin' music critic." Looky here! We've found some common ground! This is a shitty zine and you are not a music critic.

I wrote a four page definitive review of the Sacred Baboons, however, I'm not including in with my comic for the following reasons, because unlike your "writers", I listened to the record, I describe the music and I thought about it before writing the review. For these reasons this thought provoking and insightful review does not belong alongside your primitive meaningless reviews.

Joseph O'Day

PS How much do I get paid for the comic?

Dear Mr. O'Day,

Irresistible Frank wrote the Tom Waits "Mule Variations" review in question and the only reason that Frank can get away with writing crap like that is because the man truly is irresistible. Guys, keep Frank away from your ladies and ladies, keep Frank away from your fellas. As for all the other nonsense contained in your letter, all I can really say is thanks for thinking of the "Reglar Wiglar". You hate it enough to care and I appreciate that.

Chris Auman, Editor

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Yo Chris,

Make mine Wiglar! It's cooler than Marilyn Manson's pasty white butt cheeks, more entertaining than pig fucking and at least as stimulating as Eminem's Slim Shady LP. I was in a funk before I got wigged today. Now I'm laughing, pulling my hair out. Keep me on a steady diet of the Wig and some uranium isotopes, soon I'll be a hairless, defunked chucklehead. Yes!



From RW #13 (1999)

Dear Wriggler Wigglar,

It all started about three weeks ago. I was riding the bus east down Chicago Avenue, minding my own business. Normally, I try to bring something to read to make the ride go quicker. I prefer the classics, but occasionally dip into the bowels of lusty, foul-mouthed independent "literature" to get my rocks off. It was on this fateful bus ride that I delved into the lowest recesses of this aforementioned pit and grabbed the latest issue of Wriggler Wigglar. Christ Almighty! What was I thinking?

The bus was hot and steamy, my rock hard abs glistened with sweat and the mood became more and more ominous. Foul smelling bus riders crammed together and bumped into each other with every dip into one of Daley's many potholes. Disgusting. A pregnant woman stood over me sighing. My God, that sighing. Shut up already! It's a long ride to wherever you're going!

It was near Ashland Avenue that I read that one article--you know, the funny one? Can't seem to remember the title, or what it was about, but anyway, I snorted out loud. It was a really loud and obnoxious snort too.

(Let me just say this right now, there are some people that ride the same bus I ride to work to in the morning, they know each other and they seem to think that their conversations are important enough to be heard by all. Balls, I say! Public transportation is meant to be a tranquil experience. I don't want to hear about your garage door getting jammed, what you think of Eyes Wide Shut ("Kinda weird.") or about what a bitch the Accounts Payable Clerk is a ProAmCon.

That said . . . it was my snort which, like the breeze from a butterfly's wings in China . . .

All of a sudden people are screaming, fists are flying, old people are waking up! A riot I say! The pregnant woman stomped on my toe--on purpose, I think. A young hustler tried to make a break for the front of the bus while an old mule zigzagged to the rear. When they collided, both parties fell to the floor and died on the spot! All hell was in the process of breaking loose. An old man tossed a bag out the window, no doubt filled to the brim with illegal paraphernalia or perhaps a still smoking pistil or a dirty magazine or something of that nature. Three children skedaddled past and bumped my knee. (I got my revenge on the last one). Young lovers sucked each others faces. Elderly folk quivered in their boots and the bus driver blared his horn as we sped through a yellow light.

My problem is this: I know not one law that would prohibit what you call journalism. All I want is for this horror to end. I call on you and your staff to lay down your funny pens! Cease and desist! Stop the madness before it's too late.

Riding in Fear, West Town, Chicago

Dear Riding in Fear,

And I sir, call on you to lay down your bong! I declined to edit out the bulk of your many exclamation points but I must say that you abuse them terribly. That aside, I must admit that you have a certain flair for language . . . what language that is I have no idea, but seriously, my point is, Riding In Fear, that we could use someone like you to work here at the Reglar Wiglar. The job pays nothing, but there is a lot of hard work involved and hard work is good for the soul. I see it as sort of a trade off: we get what we want and you get what you need. Think about it, Riding in Fear (is that a Native American name?) the door is always open (or is always unlocked at any rate--lock's broke).

Chris Auman, Editor

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Please don't send me your zine anymore.


Donald F. Busky, Philadelphia, PA

Dear Mr. Busky,

We receive several letters per month and unfortunately we can not respond to each one individually. We appreciate your taking the time to send your thoughts and comments, however, and to show our appreciation of our many fans we have included a complimentary copy of the Reglar Wiglar as well as several additional copies to pass on to your friends. Thank you for reading the Reglar Wiglar.

Chris Auman, Editor

From RW #12 (1999)

Dear Reglar Wiglar,

I just finished reading your latest issue (#11) last night and would like to thank you for the kind review given my "Sampler". Enclosed, you'll find a tape of some newer material for review, if you see fit.

I'm becoming more and more worried about the people who write for your magazine. They all seem so angry. I also don't understand their glorification of alcoholism. I find it somewhat depressing that nearly every one of them mentions getting drunk no matter what the subject at hand may be: record reviews, etc. That and the language. I feel the Reglar Wiglar writers are going out of their way to include as much foul language as they can in articles. I don't find much of it necessary at all. Especially when many times they are using these words in improper contexts. For instance, fuck is a verb not a noun. Jack and Jill fuck, but Jack and Jill are not fucks, at least not in proper English.

Thank you for your time.

Mike Dixon, Uptown Enabler

Mr. Dixon,

I read your letter out loud at the staff meeting, where all such letters from our readership are read to the chuckles, cursing and heavy whisky drinking that usually takes place at such a gathering. I agree, profane language is hardly necessary, misuse of the King's English is an aberration and alcoholism is not something we wish to glorify. All I have to do is take a look around the office here and realize there is not much glory in what I see. I must, however, defend our use of the word fuck. This multipurpose word can be used as both a verb and a noun and as an adjective as well, for example: "Fuck (verb) you, you stupid fuck (n), don't fucking (adj) write again.

Chris Auman, Editor

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*Hey Chris,

Just wanted to write a short line ta let ya know we appreciate your fun review of our fun CD in your fun zine. I've been pickin' up your zine religiously for the last three or four years. Why? Fuck, because it's one of life's few free pleasures. Anyways, thanks. Love you guys.

Mike & Al Scum
C*nts Live

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**Dear Reglar Wiglar,

I recently picked up a copy of you mag while in the city on a business trip and found the articles to be thought-provoking and incredibly interesting, your interviews, insightful and provocative and the layout is a pleasure for the eyes. Keep up the good work. It would be hard to improve on what you're doing right now, but I have a feeling you'll surprise me with the next issue.

Kevin Turlington, Kansas City, MO

Oh please, you exaggerate--Ed.

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**Dear RW,

Just picked up #11. Great as always. The Reglar Wiglar is truly one of the most remarkable publications ever published by humans. Love ya!

Nickie Plutarch, Chicago, IL

Come on now--Ed.

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**Dear Reg Wig,

Just read #11 cover to cover. I don't know what to say. It moved me in a way that's hard to explain with words, but you could probably do it 'cause you guys are the greatest.

Tina Rodriguez, Chicago, IL

That's very kind of you to say. Thank you-Ed.

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**Dear Editor of the Reglar Wiglar,


Joe Brown, Rockford, IL

Stop it. I'm serious. Thank you very much, all of you--Ed.

* a real letter from an actual reader

** not a real letter

From RW #11 (1998)

To: Chris

Thanx for another fabulous ish of "Reglar Wiglar". Because of such wonderful 'zines as yours . . . I've decided to continue my cartoonin' career. You're doin' a "splendid" job with your mag!


T.R. Miller & Luhey

To: T.R.,

No problem, T.R. I'm glad to hear you've decided to carry on and that the Reglar Wiglar was a part of that decision. Don't let fickle fans get yah down, believe me I know what it's like.


Chris Auman, Editor

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Subj: the superb blond wig review
From: Snowy Records
To: Wiglar

What's the deal with this Jeff Cuningham guy? Why even bother if you have nothing to say? And you, as the editor of this zine, to print this shit is a real reflection on yourself.

Maybe it's all the same person doing all your reviews. At least review the disc. Evidently, you have the disc 'cause you got my address with the correct suite number and everything. Come on Wiglar, get it together. If you need some guest reviewer to do a last minute review, I'll volunteer my services and at least give the reader an honest opinion. Anything is better than this asshole with phenylketornuria.


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Dear Unsigned,

Thank you for your letter/postcard/e-mail. It is people like you who make what we do here at the Reglar Wiglar worthwhile.

Although we can't reply to every letter individually, this note is just to let you know that we appreciate your comments and suggestions but hope next time you'll keep them to yourself.


Joey Germ
Reglar Wiglar Secretary

From RW #10 (1998)

Dear Mr. Almond,

I just started reading Wiglar #8. I'm only on the second paragraph and have already read way more than I thought I would. Your philosophy on riches and the superiority one derives from ox-choking amounts of money rang true like the surge of a healthy bong hit: "When you're rich, you're better than everyone else."

When I was poor, I had suspicions that this sentiment was true. Now that I've got more cash than you, your staff, your contributing writers and their families combined, I know it's true. Because you know what I did last week? Bought shit. What does a twenty-six inch JVC television set, a Toshiba V3 technologically advanced VCR (the kind that sucks your tape in from across the room), a dining table, four chairs, a glass coffee table, the Corner Cockpit desk from Office Depot and the Nintendo 64 all have in common? They were all bought by me, 'cuz I be stinkin' fuckin' rich motha'fucka'!

I'm an actor in LA and I make my living doing never-to-be-seen sitcoms so bad not even the most pathetic of celebrities would not go near them . . . not even Tony Danza. For a show like Claude's Crib I got paid a disemboweling amount of cash (I'm not going to tell you how much, but it was $10,000 an episode). Claude's Crib; a festering piece of basic cable crap whose foul stink I may never be able to wipe from my resume, is arguably the most egregious of all the acting jobs I've ever had: a dumb-ass sitcom with insultingly lame ebonic humor, but quite often it did boast some choice tits from various guest starts. For thirteen episodes of this colossal mass of feces, bad writing and shame, I became a rich, rich man.

So thank god for the Wiglar! Finally a place where I can unload my enormous lack of guilt and feel good about having more money than anyone who will ever read this! I do have a sneaky feeling that I'm better than everyone else but I really need to hear it from the people beneath me. So let me know, Mr. Wiglar! And if you're ever strapped for cash, hey go fuck yourself.

Time for my massage. Later, losers!

Yours in dough

Matt Champagne

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To Christopher,

"Thanx" for your issue #9 of "Reglar Wiglar". Your magazine is "breathtaking". I'm thrilled to have "appeared" again. Have a "sensational" Autumn!

Yours truly,



Once again, it was my "pleasure" to include "your" funnies. I wish you a "wonderful" Autumn as "well."


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Dear Ed.,

You call this a porno mag? What the fuck, man? Here's five dollars. Thing fucking sucks.

Brad Helin

Dear Brad,

I understand and appreciate your frustration with our magazine. You are right, "thing fuckin' sucks" indeed.

Chris Auman, Editor

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