In response to:
Vice President, Public Policy & Advocacy (san jose downtown)
Had to spilt the letter up to make it fit in a single photo, but if it’s still too small, the full letter as follows:
San Jose Silicon Valley Chamber
101 West Santa Clara Street
San Jose, CA 95113
To Whom It May Concern:
Flavor Town was supposed to work. It wasn’t supposed to end up like it did. In fact, I am taking a huge risk writing this letter to you today. My name is Paolo Sambrano, and I was the City Administrator for Flavor Town, founded by celebrity chef and sandwich huncher, Guy Fieri.
Flavor Town was founded on the principles of totally bodacious and out-of-bounds flavors unfettered by any and all government regulation. You would think that a town with pizzas for manhole covers would be a player on the global stage. You would be surprised. And when you gaze long into cream filling, cream filling also gazes into you.
I was personally scouted by Mr. Fieri, for my experience in mock UN in high school, and one time I posted a photo on Instagram where I put three breakfast tacos on a breakfast pizza.
Although, I performed all the day-to-day duties that a city administrator would do, my official title was NACHO MUCHACHO, with Mr. Fieri’s title being OFF THE CHAIN. This left Mr. Fieri free to shoot at stalks of broccoli behind city hall with his crossbow, or on day-trips with BFF Sammy Hagar riding ATVs in Cabo.
I remember the night it all ended. After Fieri decreed a ban on vegetables and mandatory deep fat frying, the residents had enough and stormed City Hall.
I was about to leave City Hall for the night when Fieri ran into the City Hall and dragged me from the balcony into his office. Fieri dropped his duffel bag stuffed with brisket on the floor, and slumped on his ketchup and mustard pleather throne behind his desk. Which was really just a flattop griddle propped up on ivory legs with a crockpot of Cheez-Wiz on his right. It was his personal cheesesteak station.
“Where did we go wrong, NACHO MUCHACHO?” He drew his .38 from under the Cheez-Wiz crockpot and pointed it between my eyes, gestured recoil before drawing the .38 against his own temple. “Nice and easy. I’ll do you, and you do me, deal, just like we agreed right?”
“Bump it, bro.” Fieri holding his fist out. “BUMP IT YOU SON OF A BITCH,” as Fieri fired one shot into the ceiling of his office, the reverberations not doing any favors for Van Halen’s (not Van Hagar) Hot For Teacher sounding off for no one. He drew a breath, resigned.
“You know my real name is Ferry?” Fieri slid his sunglasses in front of his eyes, the international symbol for checkmate. “Hey now, you’re an all-star, get your game on, go play. Go, NACHO MUCHACHO, you still have a chance.”
You don’t want to know what happened next. I will tell you that, on the final Marine evac helicopters with the last survivors from Flavor Town, I could see pillars of pecan smoke from the smoked meats district ascend to heaven. Flavor Town, and my innocence burned to the ground that night. I swore that night to never let another Flavor Town happen as long as I lived. This is why I would be the best choice for San Jose Silicon Valley Chamber’s VP of Public Policy and Advocacy.
And when you gaze long into cream filling, cream filling also gazes into you.
Sincerely,
Paolo Sambrano
