the nutty letter-writer
THERE'S no better way to describe Ted L. Nancy than a 'nut.' What else would you call someone who goes out of his way writing bogus letters to hotels, restaurants, publications, candy companies, sports organizations, department stores and many other establishments containing the most outrageous claims and requests? Surprisingly, no matter how peculiar Nancy's missives are (he asks to buy a mannequin from a retail chain because he says it looks remarkably like his dead neighbor and wants to give it to the family of the deceased), most of the recipients have taken the time and effort to reply to him. Little do they know that their legs are being pulled big-time; but not only that, their mail--unfortunately for them--would be compiled for a humor book called 'Letters from a Nut' courtesy of the aforementioned Ted L. Nancy. No one really knows if that is even his real name, or if anyone has ever bothered to check if he actually lives at the address he gives so brazenly (560 North Moorpark Rd. #236 Thousand Oaks, CA 91360). But one thing is sure, he has a gift for creating the most ridiculous letters and yet being taken seriously for them. And Nancy is no doubt laughing his way to the bank because he's already released two follow-up titles--'More Letters from a Nut' and 'Extra Nutty!: Even More Letters from a Nut.' Readers obviously can't get enough of Nancy's cheekiness and the sheer absurdity of what he does. Stand-up comic Jerry Seinfeld bows to Nancy's genius in an introduction he penned for 'Letters from a Nut.' Seinfeld relates that he first made contact with Nancy during a party at a friend's house--not with the person himself, but with his letters. The comedian couldn't help laughing at the unusual correspondence, especially since the various businesses had actually responded to Nancy. 'Then I started reading the letters to my friends, and the next thing I know, the whole room was laughing and having a wonderful time.' Well, why wouldn't they? In a letter to Flamingo Hilton in Las Vegas, Nancy asks if he can go their casino and gamble while dressed as a shrimp, saying this is his lucky clothing. He details, 'That is a reddish veiny body outfit with a brittle curved fantail. The top of my head will be hardish and crunchy and have tarter (sic) sauce on it. (Not real!) I will wear orangish foam shoes that match the rest of the outfit.' Flamingo answers back, courteously enough, telling Nancy that 'because of the high level of activity created by the outfit, it might be too distractive' but that they would be willing to host him if he visits and gambles in street attire. In an entire section written to various hotels in Las Vegas, Nancy makes all sorts of demands. He asks the Sahara Hotel & Casino if he can install his own drapes in the room with the promise that 'all debris will be removed: pins, hooks, string, etc.' Request denied. He claims to look like Abraham Lincoln and thus implores the Debbie Reynolds Hotel/Casino/Hollywood Movie Museum to section off an area in the coffeeshop where he could take his meals to avoid unwanted attention. Request denied. He inquires from Station Casinos Inc. if he would be allowed to bring his own soda machine, noting that the casino's vendos don't carry orange. Request denied (because they would be willing to stock any flavor of his choice). Seinfeld cites Nancy as a guy who has a problem no one else has. Indeed, he is most creative in thinking up of one predicament after another--losing a bag of otter hair in a hotel room, suffering from immense body odor and asking a restaurant to seat him beside their garbage dumpster, wondering if an airline would accommodate him if he's dressed as a giant rotting radish. There's an elaborate side story behind the last situation: he's part of a traveling dinner theater group and would have little time for a costume change before his performance and incidentally, his role is in an 'exciting play about the food industry'.
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Overview
Who is Ted L. Nancy?
He's a concerned hotel guest searching for a lost tooth...
He's a superstitious Vegas high-roller who wants to gamble at a casino in his lucky shrimp outfit...
He's the genius inventor of "Six Day Underwear"...
He's a demanding dramatist seeking an audience for his play about his 26-year-old dog, Cinnamon...
He's the proud owner of Charles, a 36-year-old cat who owes his longevity to a pet food company...
He's a loyal fan of ...