I’m always looking for more letters from people who read this web log. During the last three months, I’ve posted stories about unusual local history, creative slang words, weird hot sauces, television shows and even my brother Tim. And my Uncle Tim.
People were too stunned to respond.

I did get a few shouts from people who wanted to talk about two recent posts. I’ll start with the traffic one — after the April 22 “Fear and Loathing on the New York State Thruway,” I received a few lines from a “David,” who was also fed up with the mutants we must share the road with. These are the jerks who paste cell phones to their ears for miles and hours, yakking about nothing as they hit 90 east and west doing 90 east and west.
“Six years after the ban on hand-held cell phones started in New York, scofflaws are everywhere; and some Pollyannas are silly enough to think that compliance will improve over time, as opposed to the law becoming harder and harder to enforce as more and more people consider DWP (driving while phoning) to be acceptable and their birthright,” David wrote.

Since then — just 10 days later — I’ve noticed this transgression more and more. What did these poor fools do before the telecommunications marvel of the age arrived? David says cops placed on full-time cell phone alert could easily pay for themselves and more. I’m with you, man!
Think a monster fine would persuade the freaks to hold off calling a buddy and asking, “Yeah ... it’s me ... what’s up?”
Just for laughs, I thought $5,000 would be a great convincer. For real, how about $250? A cop giving the ticket could always say, “Can you hear me now?”

And as for speed kings, I see my colleague Joe Slomka talked about the fast crowd in his last Sunday Gazette opinion piece. Joe would prefer people scale back to 55 mph, in an effort to save tons of fuel and maybe prevent bunches of traffic accidents.
I could live with this. I generally stick to the posted 65 mph speed limit now, but have to remind Joe that cruising at this speed often puts me in the minority. I’d hate to be moving at 55 when a rocket passes me at 100!

I also received a note from someone who calls himself “Embalmer.” He claims he corresponded with Danny Lee Siebert, the serial killer who died of cancer in an Alabama prison last week.
Siebert confessed to the murder of Rotterdam resident Beatrice McDougall, who was found murdered in an Atlantic City casino in 1986. McDougall’s family believed Siebert should have paid the price for his crimes long ago; they believe lethal injection, and not pancreatic cancer, should have been the cause of death.

Anyway, “Embalmer” said he or she knew Siebert for the last four years, corresponded on a regular basis and “visited more than a few times.”
“I think that whether you realize it or not you got justice,” he or she wrote. “Justice in a lot of ways is like prayer and you don’t always get exactly what you expect.”
I can understand that. What I don’t get is why anyone would want to make a connection with a serial killer in the first place. Are there not more deserving people for friendship out there?