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While out thrifting I came across a treasure trove of old Lord of the Rings postcards. Ten cents apiece, and so I bought them all up, now - who to send them to?
I do miss the habit of writing, and seldom get letters (probably related to my lack of fixed address, surely not the letters I send out), and - you know - I could use a new pen-pal. And, coincidentally - it just happens to be Tolkien's birthday.
Hmmmm.
It doesn't take long.
Ken.
Ken has a double -no - triple - benefit - not only does he get the postcards, but being a local the postmaster - who doubtless reads the back of all the local postcards - and gossips to the locals - and the owner of the restaurant - who would be curious who's writing Ken and who picks up the postcards before delivering to Ken - why, I've tripled my audience!
Dear Ken,
- While action figures of the more popular characters do exist, we are unaware of anyplace that sells life size silicon realdolls of Frodo or Legolas.
- While we enjoyed your theory that "Gandalf the Grey" becomes "Santa Clause" after his encounter with the Balrog, we feel obliged to correct you. "Gandalf the Grey" became "Gandalf the White", Gandalf is a Wizard, Santa Clause is an Elf, and the 2 mythologies do not overlap. You will need to forward that list on again, a quick Google search should provide you the correct address.
- It is true that Galadriel and Legolas are both Elves. They unfortunately, however, do not know Santa Clause. Please see our previous note about how to go about addressing your Christmas requests.
- You are aware that this is just a story? Are you reading the books or watching the movies? In any event, Ken, we feel compelled to remind you that the people and events described are entirely fictitious.
- We do believe there was good reason J. R. R. Tolkien did not elaborate upon the sex lives of Dwarves and Hobbits. If you attempt to publish this piece of fan-fiction you've written and persist in using the names "Fili", "Kili", "Balin" and "Bilbo" we will be forced to litigate. End.
- While we appreciate your interest in portraying "BOMBUR" in the movie adaptation, please be advised that a movie adaptation has already been made. And that dwarves wear clothes. No, seriously, WTF, sending us nude "glamour photos" with a teddy bear covering your privies is not "dwarvish", it's obscene. Although everyone in the office agreed you'd make an excellent Troll.
- If the fellowship of the ring is for any reason re-convened we will be certain to let you know.
- The other side of the postcard is an ILLUSTRATION, not a PHOTOGRAPH. Yes, it's easy to get the 2 confused.
- No, Ken, none of the cast of "LOTR" have an "OnlyFans" page. In the work described by Tolkien the characters lived in a comparatively idyllic past without need to recourse to sex-work to survive.
There will be more, I'm sure.
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Somehow or another, drunk, most probably, there came the question came up of "How many nipples does a cat have?". The answer, according to Google, is anywhere from 4-10.
Armed with said information I approached Ken at work..."Did you know the average cat has between....nipples?"
"Yes". He answers. "My Cat has 8 Nipples".
I couldn't continue the conversation.
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This happened a few years ago, while I was staying at the guesthouse of a friend. I'd go upstairs for a game of backgammon, occasionally take a leak, and marvel at the state of her toilet.
The toilet, 70's porcelain, peach or flesh colored with a fur cover and rug around the base. Inside, below the waterline, grew a thick matt of algae, black. I marveled that she never cleaned it, and good manners forbid pointing it out (it was obvious, after all). I'd check on it whenever I was up for a visit and had need to pee, half expecting that that stream of urine would dislodge some fauna, crabs or starfish creeping around the bowl...
...now, a disclaimer, as they were on septic they argued against the use of harsh chemicals to clean their toilet. And - as I am a long way from even being a mediocre housekeeper, well, I'm not in a position to throw stones.
Anyways, one day, up for a visit and I have to lay some pipe. A good, 2 foot long very solid turd. And, bidding it goodbye and flushing the toilet what should happen but the turd should rise up on the waves, swirl round the bowl and in one smooth motion tear the entire algae/matt off and take it down the whirlpool...
I left the toilet shouting for my friend, able to keep my silence no longer: "...my SHIT just cleaned your TOILET...!!!"
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This is a new thing and I'm already seeing the benefits.
I mean, I have an enormous amount of respect for this, and so have been hesitant to try it since my last big trip, but had I when I was here over the winter there's no doubt I'd have been a hell of a lot more productive.
Now, first of all, the effects - well, they're subliminal. They're supposed to be anyways, only I'm unable to cut up the already tiny square of paper into tinier bits, I can get it in half, in a quarter, but after that the little bits, even with the best of glasses, are disappearing, and so I make do with quarter tabs. There are ways to reduce it further, but I'm finding a quarter works fine, given that a full dose for me is somewhere in the tab-and-a-half range.
The effects - noticeable, supraliminal even, you know something's different, you're a little more alert, a little more aware. Perspicacious.
The rule is - day 1 on microdose, day 2 and 3 on recovery, repeat on day 4. Day 2 and 3 you can get a hell-of-a-lot done, it's a bit of a mental cleanse, all the trifling procrastinations and trivial thoughts have been swept away, your mind is clear.
And so, arriving in Calgary late on Saturday night and exhausted come Sunday morning I microdose again. A quarter tab, but I'm so enjoying the effects that I take another quarter. And, while still a low dose the effects are even more apparent. I'm not tripping, there are no fairies and leprechauns or swirling Aztec or Mayan symbols opening portals to infinity, but - I'm substantially more alert, more - acute, my vision is widened and includes the peripheries. The day - beautiful, cloudy, sunny, a deep blue sky, is somehow all the more perfect. A perfect day squared. And watching people - at Beano, at the Midtown CO-OP, I find myself seeing less the people and more the relationships between them, their most exaggerated qualities, the ones they'd most like to project, caricatures of themselves. This microdosing, it immeasurably improves the day, maybe not suitable for work but a fine augmentation to a short visit to Calgary...
I'd heartily recommend this.
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A cultivated agnostic, with opinions, true, everyone does though, but -
I've seen this before - was an enthusiast in the 70's following Geller and his spoon-bending routines, read "Psychic Discoveries Behind the Iron Curtain", which, as best I can recall, was about a sly old Babushka who could move iron filings and needles with magnets on her knees, then nodded agreeing with Randi, these people are frauds, but...
The truth is I don't know. I'm agnostic. I don't believe the truth is knowable. I don't believe the mind of God - however simple - is knowable - think about it - can an ant know what you're thinking? And - the difference between you and God - it's easily as great, infinitely more great even, for God - if you believe in him or her - is infinite...
What is remarkable is that so much of the universe is knowable, that we have discovered laws, that we can predict and understand as much as we can.
My problems, that science reduces us to biology, physics, maths, ... which is to some degree true. But we are more than that. The universe is more than that. There is no way that in a few thousand years we have become Gods. There is so much more - but we're not asking the right questions. And so - even to trivial questions, to things that I would ordinarily dismiss out of hand, I've begun to answer that I don't know. It might suggest that I'm an idiot but it doesn't confirm it the same way that certainty does..