 Jezz Pett Tet:
(That's how jpt is said, in my mind of minds.) There's a goodly following (or a tailing, as I say in my private investigacy vocation) among the local 3 A.M. coffee swillers. Anyway, want you to know that the amazing eccentric features keep me conscious during dull overnight stakeouts. (I probably preferred to be a lumberjack, but A.D.D. can spell a he-man's end among the falling timbers.) I sponge off people's wireless networks with my laptop, even while eavesdropping on their chatroom soirees. No doubt, you're unique on the internet, and that's saying a hell of a lot. --call me Chauncy
Dear call me,
Indeed. A hell. BTW, call, can you use your computer to pick up anybody anywhere who's talking dirty on the internet? Because unidentified staff here at jpt sometimes talk dirty on the internet, using the accounts of peers, in the course of conducting their own undercover investigations that eventually they were going to turn over to authorities. --eds.
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Euthanasia:
I cannot tell you how tense I am. I found the Euthanasia ad callous, dangerous, and frightening, JPT's aloof disclaimer notwithstanding. [Iss7, April 2008]. How many will perish before JPT ceases in its outrageous campaign to see all life on this planet snuffed by its own fell hand and our teeming world hung out to dry? I'm trying to construct an algorithm for estimating the chances that something akin to that will happen if people like you maintain your simultaneously radical-right-and-radical-left bombardment of duly evolved, forged-in-the-fires civil sensibilities. My colleagues in the discipline of social mathematics here at the College concur and point to the growth of similar patterns of nihilistic cynicism that have portended the wane of great civilizations along history's highway. Are we then to become another ash on the cold hearth of aspirations? --N.R. (P.S. Nice work, otherwise.)
Dear N.R.
"All life" is saying a bit much, mir denks. // We have noticed a recent upswing in rash talk of hangings out to dry, civilizations, and cold hearths-- you're not alone in your night tremors, nor in any tremens of delirium are you alone. Something is in the air. The horses are jibbyjabbered. People are hurting. Is it time to huddle? --Euthanasia (an editor's kitty cat)
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Dearest editors,
I have sent you four letters, and this is only the first you have published. The previous three were important discussions of issues raised by jpt articles. Why this one, which says next to nothing?
--Frequent Flair
Dear FF,
Your prescience boggles. We continue our practice of reading all mail, responding privately to selected letters, and publishing some of those that either serve a particular editorial purpose, trigger a whim, nurse a dependency, or help maintain the bumpy-warty texture of our literary landscape. Don't give up on previously submitted letters; their day may yet come, especially if content is substantive. We like to be curved-shooters, because straight-shooting is no-thrills-shooting.
-- jpt office sweeper James
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I went to the jpt site. I see the universe through the slit of a goat's eye. Then there is Aristotle who sees himself in a mirror smoking a cigar (narcisssitc [sac*] polyp). The old Chinsese philosopher Wrungway Tuck said the universe is a glass ball full of ants.
-- [The Deranged Ranger? --eds.]
*spelling ain't correct
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So, Field Marshal Fibes, what can I make of this slip from the path? [Fame of de Name Game, Iss. 7, April 2008.] I did a thorough search and never once found my extraterrestrial benefactor named Axon Accelator Zeep. I hope you’ll honor him/her in future editions. --"O"
Dear "O" (and we know who you really are, dude)
Axon Accelator Zeep is an EXTREMELY common name on many worlds-- so common that intergalactic criminals posing as benefactors often travel under this name as they go about siphoning kick-*ss cerebral fluids out the ears of spent and snoring party animals. I'm sure YOUR Axon Accelator Zeep is on the up-and-up with YOU, though. Probably uses that metallic straw to help him breath Earth air. Incidentally, on some planets, "Axon Accelator Zeep" means "Momma's guns," on others it means "kiss 'em kooky." Trivia. --Fibes
P.S. Watch out for that Smith guy, too.
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Drillbit Taylor, a movie starring Owen Wilson, stunk. Out for a few weeks. He plays a homeless man hired by 3 h.s. freshmen to protect them from a bullying 18 y.o. senior. Ended happily, but just not nearly enough laughs. --Ent Figma (P.S. Put this in JPT and smoke it. Hahuhhhhha)
Oh, gollies! Dump Praxis on his axis! What some skinny! This luculent review has sent us loping, scampering, skating, water-boarding, Segway-Personal-transporting, crutching and wheelchairing to the Provincial Thought theater on a merit scavenge. We would determine whether, had it not gerschtunk, had it enjoyed perhaps a more robust hee-haws budget, Drillbit Taylor might have heralded the return to cinema of the real movie, the movie-movie, the movie shot by our foundering fathers. Had Gandhi been a film critic instead of the inventor of satyagraha, he might have nicked our own serene philosophy of analysis: What is gained in denouncing a movie for what it is, when it might be found acceptable in all that it might have been?
-- So let it be with Drillbit Taylor. Don't be trashing Drillbit Taylor. Drillbit Taylor can't help being a victim of reality. Are we not all victims of reality? Should we not all be brought in from the snow to thaw by the fire, that we might then sink our venomous fangs deep in the hand that strokes us? Absolutely, barkentine, flippin' A. Or maybe "stunk" is a good thing now, like "bad" came to mean "good" at one time. Thanks for honoring us with your review. -- a Guardian Angel guest responder
An' thass thatt. "It iz wut it iz." Rejoin us whenever we come apart.
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luminance
--The Fly
