Off again.


Okay, so this is how the countdown went: Ten... nine... eight... seven... Shall I go on? Are you in suspense yet? Well, okay, 'cause we're already down to three... two...

Hold it right there. Neptune can wait. I've got some mail to answer. Here's the first item:

Dear Big Green,

Couldn't help but notice that your diet appears to have been restricted to cheese-based cracker snacks. Why is that? Are you under advisement from your physician?

Best,

Jaycorn McHammerstein.



Thanks for writing, Jaycorn. Yes, I can see where you might have gotten that misimpression about our foodstuffs. Same place other people acquire misimpressions about us - from this blog. The simple fact is, none of the snack foods I mentioned as being part of Big Green's regular menu contain a significant amount of cheese. And doctors? We don't need no stinking doctors! Unless they are doctors of mad science.

Here's another one. The envelope seems a bit distressed, frankly.

Hey Big Green...

I fell down the back steps of the Cheney Hammer Mill and have been stuck in your basement for about a week and a half, living on coal dust and weeds ripped from between the security bars of the basement windows. Call the police! GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!

Sincerely,


Mayor Clem Johnson





One more - this one appears to be from slightly farther away.

Snert....

Kalwoiuu lkjlk ffjrjt oo issi kak he ka wppio ldk na eiur youa wwkke !!!!

jeooiau,

Snert.



Thanks for writing, Snert. I respect the fact that you've gone to the great expense of sending this letter from the Small Magellanic Cloud. Sadly, we have no reliable translator on staff, though Marvin (my personal robot assistant) does dabble a bit. Still, once we get underway with our interstellar tour, we will hand this off to one of our fans and find out just what the hell you're talking about.

That does it. Okay, where were we? Ah yes.... Three... two... one...

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