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Pardonner

Folks,
I was telling a French buddy of mine about jpt and he broke out in hoots. "What's so funny about the title "jpt?" I begged. He gave me one of those "in my country..." replies. Excuse my French, but here's what he said: "Jay pay tay. In France, we're like, 'Par-donn, jay pay tay' : 'Pardon me, I farted.'" ––Force Boss

Dear Forcie,
And so our inside joke is scattered back to the unwashed proletariat whence such things sprang. Incidentally, our Paris correspondents receive celebrity treatment for what is erroneously taken as rare and overdue American self-reproach in our title, Provincial Thought. We are in fact crowing it, strutting triumphantly. Provinciality is, of course, self-justifying. —ed.

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Dear Editor,
"The Killers" [Issue 12] was a good story in the action parts but a little stuffy in the filler. But the thing I wish to comment is that Hemingway knows no shame when it comes to taking someone elses story and trying to disguise it as his own. "Whose story is it anyway?" The facts are "The Killers" is a 1960ish movie starring Lee Marvin and Ronald Reagan in his last role before you guessed it, politics. What Hemingway changed into a washed up boxer was really a washed up race car driver that's marked for the hit. The hit was ordered by Reagan, go figure. Angie Dickinson is hot enough but I've seen better flicks. ––3.D.

OK, you got us. Thought the ancient flick was utterly forgotten by everyone except Nancy Reagan. —ed. No. II

Dear jpt,
Jack Derriere observed that "The Killers" is "about a state of mind and random events—chaos, absurdity, irrealism—for which the characters serve as vehicles, as a phrase in a metaphor is a vehicle for meaning." To my mind this defines Hemingway generally. I do not believe he ever started any work but that this motivation stood foremost in his deliberation. If it did not, then infallibly it emerged to dominate, dragging the writer along in the diminished capacity of hapless messenger. Hemingway's stories are too well structured and well thought for that. —Cleanth Cool

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Dear Editors,
I read those treatments of murder in Issue 12—one richly detailed, classy, thoughtful ["Up Jumped the Devil"], one playing farcical mayhem with Poe ["Three for the Nevermore"], each to be commended in its respective intendment and execution. I simply wondered if this bodes a swing to the dark side in jpt, or whether I may expect the sun to shine again. —Feters

Some say, some say not. Rather depends on the tally of tantalyzing dramae we bring aboard. Death is the prime playtoy of all drama, Feters. —ed.

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Dear Journal of Provincial Thought,
Being a fan of William Schafer's books about American musics and the cultures which foster them and are fostered by them, and an appreciative reader of his Mapping the Godzone, A Primer on New Zealand Literature and Culture, I was pleased—though by now not surprised at his versatility—upon finding in your Journal the anthology of wonderful early-Kentucky stories [Iss. 12, "Three Places in the Great Meadow"]. If I could succeed by even a half-measure at teaching the elements of his style, my students would command the future of American literature. —W.B.

But yes, our man is truly The Man. —a relatively unconflicted ed.

Schafer responded to a vicious email (to jolt him awake), as follows: "I do this by donning various disguises, such as rubber ape-heads, etc., while I key-stroke. Not recommended for beginners. Do not try this at home!" —ed. No. II

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Dear jpt,
Did anyone notice that Purr's poem [Issue 12] about sixes had six syllables in the title, six syllables in each line until the end (when the poem turned to sevens and the syllables became seven), six verses, and six lines in each verse? That's four sixes. Shouldn't there be six? —hanna

Mr. Purr responds: "My work isn't perfect. Nor, in a number of systems, does there dwell any lasting faith in a system of numbers."

Dear Editors,
I must thank you again, and publicly, for the opportunity to push poetry in jpt. The last few weeks have been a blur. Reading engagements one after another, dinners, a book deal and another pending. An impressive fan base has welled up moist and warm in Netherlands, which is where I am now. Who would have imagined so much from my little words? —J.S. Purr

Mr. Purr also proposed our answer for him: "Dear Jonah: The gratitude is ours. You got 'em, tiger— now don't let 'em go."

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Editors, jpt
I understand about my play not meeting your publishing needs at the present time, I am not asking for reconsideration. I have decided to go into production, and all I am inquiring is whether you could put out the word among your fantastic audience that I am seeking actresses to do the dream shower scenes in my one-man performance. None in this backwater town seems to understand exactly what serious acting careers demand. I can't promise pay until we show profit, but this shouldn't deter those truly devoted to stage life. Thank you for any and all help! —G.F., Iowa.

Gee, G. This is hardly the place. We have routed your communication to Procurements. —ed.

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Confidential to Paul Wood:

Not recommended. The lapsus calami defense—"it was just a slip of the pen"— is never believable nor believed, serving only when the offended party dearly wants to let it go and move on. Come, Paul. Three paragraphs of vulgar invective publicly launched at the boss hardly lend to this remedy. No, it rather appears to us you're up the creek along with your career. Another 170-lb. chunk of flaxen-headed hamburger through the three-blade grinder that is youth, alcohol and Facebook. If were you, would be looking into change of name, change of venue, change of game. For you there's no more keeping on keeping on. As Basil Fawlty told the diners, "Duck's off."

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Don't stop believin' you'll get through—keep on chuckin' those emails our way! We're compiling the stats; we know who the good guys are, and we're hip to the off sorts.
hail@provincialthought.com