purposes—one of those purposes being his very own political survival.
Am I not the cocky one! No, dear Cousin, I don’t think the tide is turning. The tide which washes the shores of this beleaguered island can be depended upon to follow the moon’s directives from now until the death of the planet, but lovely storm tides—beautifulhurricane-force, beach-battering, dune grass–deracinating gales do strike our beaches now and then, and leave change in their wake. Perhaps we are about to see such a storm. We will proceed on hope, comfixed in one mind and purpose upon these elite, self-deluded flayers of children.
Come down as soon as you like. We miss your smile!
As we will sorely miss the loss of “D” effective as of midnight tonight. (Have you not noticed the product of my decision to dribble this dreadful diatribe with as many uses of the doomed fourth letter as possible?) Only idiots, dear Cousin, or certifiable madmen would assign divine purpose to ridding ourselves of the tools not only with which to address Heaven itself (Henceforth “Deity” and “Divinity” and even the word “God” will be outlawed. The Council makes the following substitutional suggestions: “Omnigreatness” and “Screnity.”) but also of the ability as of midnight to discuss with anything but great difficulty everything that has occurred in the sanctified past. In taking “ed” away (Goodbye, Ed!), the most useful tool to express the past tense in the English language, we are being robbed of great chunks of our very history. This constitutes, in my opinion, a significant crime, an egregious sin, and one humongolacity of a daunting challenge.
But then, according to Nollop, that which challenges us also makes us stronger—better able to serve his memory, better able to serve one another in service of his memory, better able to serve ourselves in service of one another in service of his memory.
Sometimes I find myself laughing until I begin to choke.
Yipes! The Pony-post cometh!
Love
,
Ella
(And gooDbye for the last time!)
OFFICE OF HIGH ISLAND COUNCIL
NOLLOPTON
Friday, September 15
Dear Nollop Dweller:
Many of you have visited the Council office over the last several days, voicing concern over how best to express in the absence of the letter “D”—which leaves us at midnight tonight—each of the seven days of the week. This is a valid concern, but not one that should in any way threaten daily discourse. For instead of the calendrical terms Monday, Tuesday and so forth, we cheerfully offer the following surrogates. Use them freely and often, for their use honors us all.
For Sunday, please use
Sunshine
For Monday, please use
Monty
For Tuesday, please use
Toes
For Wednesday, please use
Wetty
For Thursday, please use
Thurby
For Friday, please use
Fribs
For Saturday, please use
Satto-gatto
Parents: you may wish to help your children absorb these new words by turning the process into a game of some sort, simple flash cards also constituting a tried and efficient course.
Sincerely
,
Hamilton Ferguson
Chief Secretary
High Island Council
The * uick brown fox * umps over the la * y * og
NOLLOPVILLE
Toes, September 19
Ella,
Mr. Warren is here. I wasn’t aware that he was so young! Perhaps he only looks young. I chose not to ask his age so as not to embarrass him. Maybe twenty-four. No more than twenty-six, I think.
He is also very attractive. He parts his hair in the center, picking up on the style of the local boys. I can tell he wants to fit in. I can tell that he wishes not to arouse anyone’s suspicion.
He is single, as well—at least from what I have been able to learn. He was happy to show me pictures of his mother, his cocker spaniel, even his eight-year-young niece, but no beautiful fiancée, thank heaven!
I’m not sure why I am acting the schoolgirl. Perhaps because it has been so long since we’ve given welcome to such an interesting visitor. I know what you must be thinking. But I can
Am I not the cocky one! No, dear Cousin, I don’t think the tide is turning. The tide which washes the shores of this beleaguered island can be depended upon to follow the moon’s directives from now until the death of the planet, but lovely storm tides—beautifulhurricane-force, beach-battering, dune grass–deracinating gales do strike our beaches now and then, and leave change in their wake. Perhaps we are about to see such a storm. We will proceed on hope, comfixed in one mind and purpose upon these elite, self-deluded flayers of children.
Come down as soon as you like. We miss your smile!
As we will sorely miss the loss of “D” effective as of midnight tonight. (Have you not noticed the product of my decision to dribble this dreadful diatribe with as many uses of the doomed fourth letter as possible?) Only idiots, dear Cousin, or certifiable madmen would assign divine purpose to ridding ourselves of the tools not only with which to address Heaven itself (Henceforth “Deity” and “Divinity” and even the word “God” will be outlawed. The Council makes the following substitutional suggestions: “Omnigreatness” and “Screnity.”) but also of the ability as of midnight to discuss with anything but great difficulty everything that has occurred in the sanctified past. In taking “ed” away (Goodbye, Ed!), the most useful tool to express the past tense in the English language, we are being robbed of great chunks of our very history. This constitutes, in my opinion, a significant crime, an egregious sin, and one humongolacity of a daunting challenge.
But then, according to Nollop, that which challenges us also makes us stronger—better able to serve his memory, better able to serve one another in service of his memory, better able to serve ourselves in service of one another in service of his memory.
Sometimes I find myself laughing until I begin to choke.
Yipes! The Pony-post cometh!
Love
,
Ella
(And gooDbye for the last time!)
OFFICE OF HIGH ISLAND COUNCIL
NOLLOPTON
Friday, September 15
Dear Nollop Dweller:
Many of you have visited the Council office over the last several days, voicing concern over how best to express in the absence of the letter “D”—which leaves us at midnight tonight—each of the seven days of the week. This is a valid concern, but not one that should in any way threaten daily discourse. For instead of the calendrical terms Monday, Tuesday and so forth, we cheerfully offer the following surrogates. Use them freely and often, for their use honors us all.
For Sunday, please use
Sunshine
For Monday, please use
Monty
For Tuesday, please use
Toes
For Wednesday, please use
Wetty
For Thursday, please use
Thurby
For Friday, please use
Fribs
For Saturday, please use
Satto-gatto
Parents: you may wish to help your children absorb these new words by turning the process into a game of some sort, simple flash cards also constituting a tried and efficient course.
Sincerely
,
Hamilton Ferguson
Chief Secretary
High Island Council
The * uick brown fox * umps over the la * y * og
NOLLOPVILLE
Toes, September 19
Ella,
Mr. Warren is here. I wasn’t aware that he was so young! Perhaps he only looks young. I chose not to ask his age so as not to embarrass him. Maybe twenty-four. No more than twenty-six, I think.
He is also very attractive. He parts his hair in the center, picking up on the style of the local boys. I can tell he wants to fit in. I can tell that he wishes not to arouse anyone’s suspicion.
He is single, as well—at least from what I have been able to learn. He was happy to show me pictures of his mother, his cocker spaniel, even his eight-year-young niece, but no beautiful fiancée, thank heaven!
I’m not sure why I am acting the schoolgirl. Perhaps because it has been so long since we’ve given welcome to such an interesting visitor. I know what you must be thinking. But I can
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