Love Letters To The Monkees

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Dear Monkees,
My name is Billy and I am eight. I sure wish you could come over. You don't have to if you don't want to. I was wondering if you like kittycats. We have two cats if you do. If you don't we can always put them in the basement. Thank you.
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Dear Micky,
I read in a magazine that you have a dog named "You." It comes in handy when you have to call him, all you have to do is yell, "Hey, You." I've got a good name for my dog. I call him "Back." Everytime he runs away I just have to yell, "Come, Back." Not really, but if I do get a dog I think I will call him that. Anyway I would like to be the first fan to write "You." Here is the letter:
Dear You,
Arf, bark, bow-wow. Rrrrowf, arf-arf, woof bow-wow. Bark bark bark rowf wow woof bow woof bark rowf rrow. Woof woof yip yelp bow-wow arf arf arf.
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Dear Davy,
Happy New Year! What's your New Year's resolution? I hope it's to cut your hair. You look like a hunchback or something with your hair so long. You look like you're being swallowed up alive! I hope you're not mad at my criticizing, but a lot of my friends think so too. I know I'll never hear from you, but I want to ask you two questions anyway. First: when do you plan to get married? In other words, what age? Second: how high would the girl have to be? I don't mean she would have to be drunk to marry you, what I mean is how tall? I think I'd faint if you ever wrote back, but I hope you do anyway.
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Dear Monkees,
How are you? Fine, I hope. I just had to write to you, 'cause I love your show so much I wish every day were Monday. I don't know if you know about this, but they have these packs of bubble gum with Monkee cards in them. On the back of the cards is a huge picture of the Monkees, and you're supposed to collect all the cards and fit them together like a big jigsaw puzzle until you have the complete picture. Well, I've got every card except two, and one of them is Davy's mouth so it's pretty annoying. I've been buying about five packs of gum a day for the past two weeks, trying to get those two cards, but I just can't get them. I'm so full of bubble gum I'm ready to float away. Being Monkees and all, I'm sure you guys have some pull with the card company, so could you please send me Davy's mouth and Mike's left ear?
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Dear Micky,
You guys are really fabulous, everyone says so. But remember that the most part of your fame is your personality. Never lose or forget that. I care more about a good personality than beauty. If you have a good personality it makes up for what you may lack physically. So don't worry. P.S. Is it true that if you weren't a singer you would like to be a roll of scotch tape?
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Dear Guys,
This is a letter of advice. Davy, I think you should cut your hair in back evenly, 'cause you look better when you hair is neat. I know you're supposed to be a long-hair, but groups which have a hair style that suits them are the ones that succeed. Questions: 1.) Mike, are you really married to Phyllis Diller? 2.) Davy, in what horse races have you ridden? (This question is just to keep you busy.) 3.) Peter, do you have any dogs? (On the TV show you seem to like them.) 4.) Micky, do you enjoy singing? (You always look like you're in agony when singing.) Even if you don't answer these questions, I had a lot of fun making them up.
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Dear Micky,
Do you think a fourteen-year-old girl is too young to wear lipstick, mascara, rouge, make-up, and false eyelashes? Some of the parents think so, but all the kids think they're absolutely groovy. I mean, everywhere you look these days in the fashion magazines you see all these fantastic things they're doing with make-up and all, how can a girl be hip unless she can put on a little eye-liner or something? Please let me know right away. I've got this girlfriend whose mother won't let her wear any, and she doesn't know what to do about it. Please hurry. She's got to know in time for a big date this Saturday.
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Dear Peter,
Hi! I picked you to write to because I think you're the coolest of all. Aren't you excited? I read in a fan mag that you are studying to be a teacher. Is that true? I hope not. Of all the finky things for a teen-age idol to want to be, that's the absolute worst. Now, if you went around teaching kids how to play a groovy guitar or something, it would be another story. Besides, if you ever set foot in a high school classroom the kids would probably tear you to ribbons. So cool it and stick with the Monkees, okay Pete?
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Dear Mike,
You know your record "Gonna Buy Me a Dog?" Well, if you really want a dog, I have a three-month-old Great Dane that a friend of mine gave me six weeks ago that I have to get rid of. He's a little too playful. Last week he knocked over my mom's favorite vase and my kid brother. His name is Linus, but he's not too attached to it.
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Hi-ho, Monkees,
I'm just another jerk, no more than twelve, writing to you just to see what results I get. Truthfully, I think only two of you (Micky and Peter) are Monkees. Davy Jones looks like a chimpanzee to me, and Mike Nesmith is definitely an orangutan. P.S. Consider yourself pretty lucky. I don't even write to my best f(r)iend.
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Dear Micky,
I've written you about five times before, but all I ever got in reply was letters saying you are sorry but you don't have the time, or pictures instead of answers. I am terribly sorry that I have been spelling your name with an "e" up till now. I hope that wasn't why you haven't written back. I think the Monkees are the greatest thing since sliced bread, no kidding. This boy I unfortunately know says that your series was meant for the ten-year-old bracket, but it's just jealousy. He is forever knocking you and I always stick up for you. He says you are blind in one eye and can't see out the other one. But I told him you have three qualities he hasn't got and never will have: 1.)You have talent, especially in playing the drums, 2.) You have money, 3.) You have looks, while Kenny has to sneak up to a water fountain to get a drink of water. Stay as great as you are.
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Dear Davy,
I know a million other girls write and tell you "I luv you" but my "I luv you" is different. This is awful hard to tell, but I'll try anyway. I used to luv Paul McCartney. Well, that is no longer true. I used to say, "Ah, he's so cute." I still think so, kind of. But when I look at pictures of you I can't just say, "oh, he's so cute," 'cause I've never known anyone like you. To me, Davy, you look: sweet, neat, cute, nicelooking, groovy, funny and luvable. You talk so cute, too. I don't know, you are just so cute, or something. I know I'm right, aren't I? I'm only twelve years old, but I think we could get along good together. Oh, Davy! I need you and yet I'm so far away. When I think of you I almost cry. In fact, when you sang, "Gonna Buy Me a Dog" I cried. Oh, I miss you so much! Davy, help me please.
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Dear Davy, Micky, Peter, and Michael,
I have a friend (or fiend) who either doesn't like your music or doesn't like you. He says Mike has banana curls, Micky wears his hair in pigtails, Peter probably uses milk-wave Lilt, and Davy has a big mouth and looks like he needs a nose job. Actually, I think you're a real groovy group. This friend of mine isn't really a friend, but he plays lead guitar in our singing group and we sort of have to put up with him. I play the organ. Our group is called The Seeknom, which is Monkees spelled backwards.
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Dear Monkees,
My name is Sandy O. and I am twelve years old. This hair I am sending you enclosed is my hair. For six months now I've been begging my father to cut it off. It was down to my waist and an awful lot of trouble to keep up. So finally we got it cut. I'm sorry I couldn't send more of it, but my father wanted to keep it all and only gave me this much to send. I think there are too many hairs to count, but I want you all to divide them up evenly the best way you know how because I love you all the same. And that's a whole lot.
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Dear Micky,
You are one of the older members of the Monkees, so I feel that I can write to you in a fairly mature way. I don't want you to think I'm just another wild, screaming teenager throwing herself at you. I just want to say that I think you and your group are a really fine bunch of performers. But when I go to a show or a concert, I like to hear a group sing, not some bunch of crazy screaming girls. And when you're on television, I never miss your show because it makes me happy, and I especially love to watch you, but I don't break out in hysterics or go around sobbing for you. Just one thing, Micky, please don't let them take the Monkees off the air, because if they do I think I'll just kill myself.
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Dear Monkees,
I am writing this letter to inform you that my husband, I , and all our friends thoroughly enjoy your program. What I would especially like to tell you about is my three-year-old daughter, Angela. She is driving me out of my mind! She keeps asking me when are the Monkees coming on? Have you ever tried explaining how long a week is to a three-year-old? It's like teaching a dog to fly. I sure wish you were on seven days a week. You have even topped "Gar Chooch" (Garfield Goose) and Bozo in her little world. Last Saturday we asked her what she wanted for Christmas. She said the Monkees. We're having a hard time trying to explain that you can have all sorts of things for Christmas, but not people. So far we haven't had any luck at all. The Monkees are all she thinks about. Today she spread her toys all over. When I told her to pick them up, she said she didn't do it, Mike did it. Do you suppose it is possible for me to get a large picture of you? Maybe Angela will settle for a picture of the Monkees as I don't really think you'd like it inside a Christmas box.
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Dear Micky,
I read in The Monkees Go Mod where you said, "Just give us the open road, a tight contract, and we're on our way. You name it, we'll go there." Well, our junior high class is having a prom this June, and I would like to invite you to come and play at it. The prom is on June 23rd, in our gym, and all the kids would just die if you could make it. I know you must have a busy schedule and all, but if you have no other date on that night we would all love to see you. The only trouble is, our school isn't very big, and there are only fifty-three kids in our class, so we can offer you only thirty-five dollars. But you could have all the cookies and punch you could eat. Please let me know real soon, because if you can't make it, we'll have to use my brother's band again.
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Dear Peter,
You and David Brinkley are my favorite TV stars. When you get too old to be a Monkee, it would be really great if you would replace Chet Huntley. He's really a square.
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Dearest Davy,
I wrote this poem when I was supposed to be doing my homework. Here it is:

DAVY JONES
Davy, Davy, wherever you are,
Come here, come here from afar.
I wish you were here because
I think you're dreamy of every cause.
So, come here so I can know
If you think I'm dreamy, so
Jones, Jones, what a name,
I wish mine was the same.
I know you don't know me from anywhere,
But I know you like I was there.
I hope you like it. It took me almost an hour.

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Dear Davy and the rest,
I love your show, especially Davy. Oh, don't be upset, because I think you are all sensational. I have a problem you could help me with. How did you get started? My friend Eileen and I would like to start a group of our own. There are only the two of us and I doubt we could get more. I would like to have someone like Davy from England, but since that's impossible, I guess we can't. We haven't any instruments either. But we have written a song, so here it is:

I Prefer Brunettes
Bopa doo bopa doo bop doo bopa doo bop doo dopa do bop doo.
Is it true, is it true, is it true, is it true, is it true blonds have more fun?
I saw a blond just the other day
And she's an icky one.
I don't know what the others say
But brunettes is my only one.
So I'll split now and leave your mind
'The way you want it to be.
Bopa doo bopa doo bop doo bopa doo bop doo bopa doo bop doo.
(Music to first verse)
Is it true? What's true? I Prefer Burnettes.
What?

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Dear Micky,

I'm not just another fan writing to you because you're a Monkee. It's you I love, Micky, that happy-go-lucky, carefree, funny, person inside you. And I don't care if you are crazy, pug-nosed, scrawny-necked, hairy, skinny, or funny looking. Nobody's perfect, and I'll love you always.
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Dear Monkees,

I watch your show every week and I have both your albums and I just think you guys are the greatest singing group ever. As you can see I am enclosing the top of my bikini for you all to autograph (on the outside, please). I think this is much groovier than photographs, don't you? Thanks for everything guys, and stay as great as you are.
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*Note: The majority of these letters were typed with much care by my friend KeedyB - thanks Keedy, you are the "whippiest"!!


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Revised--April 5,1998