This letter probably would have made perfect sense to Kurt in 1941, but to us it is basically nonsense, since we don't even know who wrote it
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All correspondences are forged by the Treat Typists Guild, Local 202, in the typewriter sweatshop hidden in the Semi-Auntomous Exclave of Belugastan. Forgeries are then delivered to unsuspecting rival nation-states in the nearby Metropolis. All documents are forged on the first take, typos included.
All letters are approved of by the Sovereign Republic of Belugastan's Typewriter Politburo and subsequently placed in the Outbox, to be delivered to neighboring states.
Queries from all parties may be directed to the Grand Vizier:
joel {{at}} laserscorpion [dot] com
Or to Commisar-General:
joel {{at}} laserscorpion [dot] com
Or to Commisar-General:
SamuelRaphael at Gmail dot Com
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I was just thinking of this blog the other day and wondering what had become of you. Your own nonsense is much more gloriously nonsensical than this!
ReplyDeleteGolly, is that ever haunting. To think that these bygone folks were once so embroiled in trivialities as are we ourselves. Forces perspective, it does.
ReplyDelete