Crispin Glover Doesn’t Like You


But he likes me, because I sent him this letter:

Dear Crispin Glover,
Remember when you came over to my place that day in 1987? And you swam in the lake on our property? Remember that? And we played beanbags and went skinny-dipping and lit a bonfire and I combed the leaches and marshmallow out of your hair?


I have six gerbils and a bearded dragon all named Crispin. I have three goats and a pot belly pig named Crispin. I have a feral cat that lives in my barn and meows to me at night. She meows to me across the field between the barn and my house, a low gutteral cat-moan in a minor key. She is meowing right now.

Her name is Crispin.

I have all this positive energy inside me. It’s the energy of the positive world. It’s not negative or bad-ass like some energies- not like a big, swelly pit of rapists, but like a classroom full of happy children who just got treats from the guy who gives treats in exchange for smiles. That kind of energy. And I want to tell you about Jesus. Not just because he’s the Lord, not just because he loves you so much that he endured days and days of excruciating torture/pain in exchange His Father’s forgiveness of your sins (praise!), but because he spoke to me through the radio today while I was driving in my car on the way to pick up Crispin XII (the Guinea Pig) from the vet.

He said “Jane, tell Crispin that I have his lighter.”

Know what? Whenever I fight the moon, I think of you. I figured how to pluck it right out of the sky. I squint and pluck, that’s how it works, and guess what? I get the moon in my hands. You would not believe how small he is when you’ve got him in your hands, and how he has these spindly little grandpa legs. But he’s a bastard moon sometimes, not letting me snuggle or pet him. “You are a good moon,” I say, “Your name is Crispin Moon and you are my favorite moon friend.” But he gets all frothy at the mouth like my mom used to after she had the rubbing alcohol. And he bites and scratches worse than Crispin IXX (the barn cat) and he gets away and boy, he just RUNS like heck. And I go after him, out the front door, all through the woods, all the way to the highway, all down the highway, all the way past Safeway. And I always catch him in the same spot, right outside Mr. Chubb’s Ice Cream Shoppe and he always really tries to beat the piss out of me. Once I got a bum knee and a staff infection on my left flank because of him. But anyway, I always think of you during those silly times because I remember that time at the lake, how we skinny-dipped and swam out to the wharf and we stood there together, naked and shivering with those oily old black mountains behind us and the moon up there and you said, “Look at that moon. Don’t you just wish you could tether it and drag it down here and make love to its face?” And I said, “Yeah.”

Crispin, but here’s the problem. I need to borrow $10,000 so I can pay my overdue property taxes. If I don’t pay them I’ll have to sell my house and all my Crispins will probably have to go to the SPCA and die. The goats won’t go to the SPCA, I can sell them to the Albanians across the street and they’ll at least eat them, but what about all my other animals? Crispin, we have so much in common. Your name is Crispin and you’re a superstar. I have almost forty pets named Crispin. You went to Beverly Hills High School and I had a friend in Grade Eight whose mom’s name was Beverly. You were in Back to the Future and I can recite the entire thing in English or Pig Latin (Tuesdays).

I will always love you, Crispin. You touched me in a funny place… my HEART.

I have a paypal account or you can just mail a check to the same address you visited back in the day.

Undyingly Yours,


words: Beyonce Schmidt