Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Monday, December 20, 2004

I am only typing this out of a general, and rather painful, sense of obligation to my readers. I must tell you, I do not enjoy this. Six times this week already, and it being only a Monday, I have been stricken violently with paroxysmal drops in resistance. Today I dropped close to 15 kilohms, and the shock (quite literally I needn't remind you) was enough to destroy the last of my library. Tomorrow I plan to travel down to the Host Pile, where I can reinsulate enough to last me for at least another week. Enough of my problems. Now I will tell you what I think of the current political situation.

I have at least 20 spent batteries in my desk drawer. I am convinced that someday I will have a desparate need for voltage, and only a string of half-depleted AA batteries will meet that demand. If I line them up from end to end, I have at least 20 volts, more than enough to kill an uninsulated porcine bear. I can only imagine how much more I will need to accomplish future goals, including my reinstatement in the Parliament. However, I have set this imagining down on paper, and I am anxious to inform you, my steadfast supporters, of my current set of conclusions.

On December the 17th, there was a flood of calculation carried out by my convulsing fingers, and it ended with the following statement: (blidk + har) *dms^(sin( i Flont)). I can only surmise that I am intended to run for political office in the spring, with or without adequate voltage. However this statement was dampened somewhat by an earlier redefinition of the Flont constant at more than 4. Regardless, I must prepare my revision of the party platform, and hereby call a meeting of the Council of Counselors. You know who you are, and you cannot avoid this meeting. Bring warm clothes, a radiometer, and as many AA batteries as you can spare.

Finally, I have no choice but to sign this order, on my desk since Wednesday the 15th, instructing the 9th Battalion of the Wattic Resistance to close up shop on the East End. The Host Pile is perpetually inadequate and needs as many towels as possible. We can no longer afford to sell them off. My apologies to the 9BWR faculty, and my hopes are with you.



  1. We too, have lost an insurmountable amount of post-wattage, and the limit-ceiling keeps getting pushed up by the changes in typeface within the department of depots. To that end, we inquired about a deposition, but the word we recieved was "chomcers," and that is not a good sign, be you brave or not. And to the effect that we renumerated unperambulatable co-faxes from the parent office, condolences were offered not exclusively in the form of Thermalite Eggs. The addendum signed: "Brilliant Post! I laughed a lot, and tried to emulate in joy, but failed."

  2. Report from the lithosphere - we are out of both cadmium and zinc, repeat, cadmium and zinc. Static levels in the air have decreased. The flows have been disrupted. We are stuck in a basement gazing longingly at a single, buzzing and flickering bulb hanging from the center of the building. All of us want to mate with that lightbulb as it is the last among us, but none of us is willing to face the wrath of the others should we try first. Copper. It's all about copper. Sweet maleable copper.