Dear Congressman Lebowitz,

Hello. My name is Larry Russell. I’m 56 years old, a proud citizen of Nebraska’s 3rd district, a full-time HVAC technician, and a part-time inventor of sorts. It is this last distinction that brings my letter to your inbox today, sir.

I am sure you are a busy man, so I’ll get straight to my point. Enclosed is my proposal to ease the hostility that afflicts our public, at a site where it is most visibly on display – our road’s traffic lights.

This idea struck me one day in my car while I was waiting at a red light, behind a 1973 Oldsmobile Toronado. The light had turned green, but the Oldsmobile driver was quite elderly – possibly a war widow – and did not acknowledge the light. After a few moments, the young driver behind me grew impatient and began honking their horn madly. I was so horribly disturbed by what could only be described as a fundamental breakdown of our common decency. No mattered how much I fished or prayed, I could not shake the unsettling feelings of that day.

After months of consideration, I came to a solution, pulled straight from the very scene that had so haunted me. The standard US traffic light, as you know being a State Congressman, features a red light (STOP), yellow light (STOP SOON), and green light (HAPPY TRAILS). I propose a 4th, purple light, positioned below the green light, which would signal to drivers and pedestrians alike, CALM DOWN. It is why I call this the “Calm Down Light“.

The intent of the Calm Down Light is clear: it would remind citizens to calm down, relax, and enjoy life’s little moments. As you know sir, life is so busy, and it is my firm belief we would all do well having a daily reminder to breath a little more – before we lose our heads over silly hogwash!

To help make the Calm Down Light clear to the public, I have included a few radio jingles you are free to use along with its rollout. They can all be sung to the tune of Smashmouth’s “Believer”. If people are curious, I chose the color purple because blue is clearly too alarming, and orange is too easily confused with yellow and red. These are the serious considerations that come to mind when you have worked on inventions for as long as I have.

And so, I entrust my designs with your professional care, free and clear of any rights associated with their value. I offer them entirely as a service to our fellow citizens, to hopefully avoid scenes such as the one I described above. Below is a rough diagram my nephew crafted, illustrating how the Calm Down Light would function.

Thank you for your valuable time.

Respectfully,
Larry P. Russell

If you’re reading this note, then you have found my cryptid-hunting gear. I am either in jail or dead. No matter, I knew this day would come.

In the case the person reading this note is my wife – is it you, Pearl? Nevermind. In case it is my wife, I’ll explain.

My fascination with fantastical creatures of the unknown began late in life. I was 43 when I first read a comment on Discord that would seed my curiosity and ensuing captivation: “Bigfoot is actually part tree”. Those words burrowed into my head, needling at my curiosity during the idle hours of my day job. Could it be the most elusive creatures of our world could hide in plain sight as trees? Was this the key to unlocking the truth?

It’s no secret my passion for sandwich artistry has waned over the years. This new mystery of Bigfoot now played as my muse, and it’d finally drive me to action. And so, much like James Cameron or Scooby Doo, I felt the pioneering spirit to tame the unknown with my available resources. Most equipment I was able to acquire from a fellow adventurer on Craigslist who was court-mandated to exit this endeavor. Binoculars, 30 year old maps of the Canadian Yukon, a compass necklace, road flares, 2 quarts of Bigfoot urine, and a crucifix. There’s also a stack of Penthouse Forum magazines, which I was told are a strong lure. These were purely instruments of science, you must understand. It would take weeks to study and apply these tools in my weekend pursuits of cryptids.

Living in suburban Alabama would prove challenging, as there were few speculated cryptids in our local area. I would spend weekends searching wildlife management areas and state parks searching for signs, mostly under the ruse of deer hunting or shopping at Costco. My wife would protest “it’s not even deer season” or “we have enough toilet paper, Harold”, but nothing would sate my hunger for the truth.

Seriously, is this Pearl? Nevermind. I’ll assume it is.

Anyhow, I would like to report triumph. It’d give me no greater pleasure to say my 16 months of seeking cryptids bore fruit. After multiple littering fines from park rangers, 7 hair and bark samples sent for laboratory testing, and $600 in fees, my closest brush with discovery came when one sample was reportedly “inconclusive”. Most were samples from deer and elms, but the one undetermined tuft of hair would give me some measure of hope. I’ve submitted my findings on Discord to the greater cryptid community, and it was met with warm reception.

I’ve since paused my work for the time being, as the lab fees and weekend trips were a drain on our resources. It was never my intent to keeps secrets or stress you over my ambitions, Pearl. I hope this doesn’t wound you, as it’s already taken a toll on my own pride. Also I must reiterate the smut magazines were purely for science. I’ve considered selling the tools to a future pioneer, but a part of me could not let the mission go.

I hope this allays concerns over what you find here. For my part, it’s been an exciting, if exhausting, 16 months. Perhaps now the mission can live on with future explorers. Also, I’ve come to question the authenticity of the urine; it can probably be disposed. If anything can be taken from my experience, it’s to pursue your curiosities in life, no matter the fines or nagging spouses.

In parting, I leave you with the words of James Cameron, “Fortune favors prepared minds.”

And, in the words of Shaggy from Scooby Doo fame, “Like, we’re not even waiting for the monsters to find us anymore, are we?”

– Harold Tucker