Dear Banana Republic,

Please see your way into giving me free clothes for life. I have many good reasons for this. The first rhymes with "smacktail". It is a word made of a color and the duty of the postal service. OK, I mean, I have pictures of you snuffing orphans in Cambodia. Yes, the Republic of Bananas, committing atrocities against Cambodian children. OK, that's a lie. In fact, that's a terrible start. Let me start over.

Dear Sizzler,

I went to the Sizzler last night. I am not solely responsible for this incident. There was consultation with someone else, and we agreed to go to the Sizzler, even though going in, we kind of got all high-school-debate-team on it, and went over the points about Sizzler that are like a birthright for American children.

Resolved: When you were a kid, you thought the Sizzler was a fancy restaurant. I don't know how I ever thought of the Sizzler as an amazing place, because the thing I remember from my childhood about Sizzler was ordering all-you-can-eat shrimp. Any restaurant that has an all-you-can-eat item should instantly go off your list of good restaurants. If Spago introduced all-you-can-eat caviar, you would have to be like, "Um, here's a crazy idea: let's go to Spago. No, I'm just kidding. I don't want to go there, unless you want to go there. We could go there?" It's one of those things, that as a grown-up, you know what the Sizzler really is. It's the fucking Sizzler. They have the salad bar.

About the salad bar: when I was a kid, I never got the salad bar. My parents got it. I got steak and all-you-can-eat shrimp. They got the endless salad bar. Now that I'm an adult, I always get the salad bar, probably because it makes me feel mature. Here's the thing about the endless salad bar: it rapes your intestines. Somehow you find yourself plating up tacos (I mean, yeah, what the fuck are you thinking, me at Sizzler?) and you skip the iceberg lettuce and pile some spinach and romaine on a plate, and dump on an obscene amount of shit, like you've never before eaten a salad, and you convince yourself that no salad is complete without kidney beans, peas, cheese, croutons, bacon bits, shredded carrot, toxic salad dressing, and baby corn. Um, baby corn? Are baby corn like aborted regular corn? I don't want to know, but you pile that shit on a plate, and I'll eat it, and then I'll be like, "Oooooooowwwwwwww. My intestines!" But then I'll go back and have ice cream that tastes like chocolate made inside of a dead animal, that you suck through a dirty wet sock. But you eat most of it. Because why not?

OK, resolved: you would be surprised, but Sizzler can actually cook a steak. I enjoyed my steak. I haven't had a steak that I haven't made in a long time. That's probably a lie, but I like telling them, so shut up. When I said that's probably a lie, THAT'S probably the lie, because I'm not much for spending shitloads for dinner, and I'm not going to order a steak at like IHOP or Denny's. Anyway, the steak is pretty good. I encourage everyone to get the steak. And always have the toast that they offer you. It will remind you of your childhood quicker than a beating with an ironing cord, or a visit from that "special" family friend.

Still, after discussion, resolved: the Sizzler is not some place that I will return shortly. I will return longly. Maybe after the memory of that ice cream leaves my system. God, I think I'm having flashbacks about that.

Anyway, Sizzler, if you could help me blackmail the Banana Republic into giving me free clothes, that would be sweet. Thanks.

Signed, Cheetah X

Dear Banana Republic,

I know my last letter came off a little threatening. I mean, I never sent you a threatening letter, hahaha! This is a proposition that I would like to make, a clever advertising gimmick for a sale that you will have, and it will happen soon.

You will have The Clothing Buffet.

For $250, you can get all the clothes you can wear.

So, it's incredibly tough to imagine people really putting on like twelve shirts and walking out, because twelve shirts would not fit. They would have to limit their shirts and pants so that they could buy shit like belts and jackets. I totally think this would be awesome. Besides, everyone knows that your clothes are really made by the same Cambodian slave children who make Gap and Old Navy clothes. So don't like, lie, and pretend like it's going to cost you a bunch of money. All-you-can-wear!

In return, all I'm asking for this brilliant idea is free clothes for life. I'll even always wear a t-shirt that says "Inventor of the All-You-Can-Wear Sale!" OK, I mean I'll get a tattoo of that. On my neck! Yeah, sweet. And on the other side of my neck, I'll get a banana. Being eaten by a Republican.

Get it, the Banana Republic? Cool.

Signed, Cheetah X