Welcome to the Penthouse

My mailbox gets stuffed everyday.

If it isn't a bill from the phone, TV or Internet companies, it's a direct mail flyer from a window replacement company. Or a local real estate team. Or a telecommunications company offering to bundle my phone, TV and internet services.

I might be interested in bundling if only to save some trees from the sawmill.

Well, you can imagine my excitement the other day when an actual package arrived in my mailbox. A personally addressed package to Richard Siegel, no less. (No one calls me Richard, with the exception of high school buddies or my crazy aunt in Paisely, Scotland who speaks some indecipherable dialect of English.)

Moreover, the package had some heft. There was something inside. Something, somebody wanted Richard Siegel to hold and to cherish. Of course my excitement dimmed the minute I saw the return address. It was from Marlo Thomas at the St. Jude's Children Research Hospital in Memphis, Tennessee.

I have a been a regular contributor to St. Jude's since my father lost his battle with prostate cancer in 1989. He was not always the most charitable person, but spending a lot of time in the Oncology wing of many hospitals left an impression on him. So he made me promise to support the work of St. Jude's because he couldn't imagine the pain of the parents and the children who found themselves fighting the same battle.

So, given my 20+ years of regular and sometimes generous support, I thought, rubbing my fingers together like Montgomery Burns, "Perhaps this charity-thing is finally paying off."

Then again, maybe not.

The package consisted of a two-page, poorly-written form letter and a 3-inch black velvet, faux velvet, box containing an old timey key that looked just like the one used by the late Bob Guccione and his Penthouse Empire, as seen in the traffic-attracting picture above.

The 50th Anniversary Commemorative Key, opens nothing. And as you can see from the Certificate of Authenticity, it is handcrafted using only .74 ounces of the finest Metal.

Meaning, it is completely worthless. Not unlike this story, which has neither a point or as you've come to expect, a snappy witty closing.

However, in less than 500 words, I have effortlessly strung together a story about Marlo Thomas, window replacements, enormous tits, Mr. Burns, AT&T, cancer, Bob Guccione, Paisely, metallic tchotchkes and my own inadequacies as a writer.

That's not something you see everyday.