Dear Anonymous Accuser:
Thank you for your note, the contents of
which sound much like the block warden’s caution (“Your attitude is noticed,
comrade.”) to Yuri in the film version of Doctor Zhivago.
I have re-read the column, which I wrote
nine years ago, and find nothing offensive in it (although it is rather
puerile), nor do you detail exactly what is offensive in it and why I should be
sanctioned. You are being Kafka-esque, and I say this as someone who has read
Kafka: you do not tell me what offense I have purportedly committed nor do you face
me with an accuser. You do not even face me with you, for you do not give your
name. You employ the passive voice in referring to an “Adult Content policy” and
to “Community Guidelines,” which sounds like something from an episode of
Patrick McGoohan’s The Prisoner: “The Committee won’t like this, Number
Six.”
Google (and one could find “google”
offensive, with its history mocking someone’s physical characteristics) is a
private company, and so is free to publish or not publish, as is only
right. And I am free to pity Google for
moral, ethical, and literary cowardice.
I was raised in situational poverty,
barely graduated from high school, and spent 18 months in Viet-Nam. Upon
returning to the USA (with life-long skin cancer which the DVA denies) I worked
straight nights (double shifts on weekends) as an ambulance driver and later an
LVN to put myself through university. I taught for almost forty years in public
school, community college, and university as an adjunct instructor of no status
whatsoever. In retirement I volunteered with our local school’s reading program
until the Covid ended that, and I still volunteer with the lads at the local prison.
I volunteer in community cleanup after our hurricanes (tho’ I’m getting a
little old for that). I’ve worked hard all my life, paid my taxes, paid off my
house at age 70, receive only half of my Social Security because of some vague
law, and never gamed the system. Indeed, I would say that the system has gamed
me.
And was all of this so that some frightened
committee of anonymous inquisitors staring at an Orwellian telescreen or a
Mordor-ish Palantir could find an innocuous scribble insensitive?
Pffffft.
Sincerely,
Lawrence Hall
Mack Hall
A gigantic computer (the 555, not the 666, so it’s okay) hidden away in Belgium has recovered and reconstructed long-lost emails that help give us all new insights (or exsights) into history:
From:
whitestar.designoffice@wet.uk
To:
titanicbuff@reallywet.uk
Date: 15 April 1912
Subject: Steering
Hey, chaps, like, you know, we made the rudder too bleedin’ small for a ship that size, so you can’t, like, steer around objects very well. If you, like, think you’re going to hit something, like Manhattan Island or an iceberg, the best thing to do is to keep the rudder straight and set all the props in reverse. Hey, you might scrape some paint off the bow, but, like, that’s better than sinking. Any cute girls on board? Been swimming yet?
From:
FlowerFairyHitler@happynet.de
To:
CigarBoy@downingstreet.uk
Date: 5 April 1945
Subject: Purported note of 3 September 1939
Winnie, my man! What’s shakin’? Hey, big guy, there’s some rumor that your predecessor had an email sent to our ambassador on 3 September back in 1939, but, dude, he never got it! Really! And I sent you some serious emails back in th’ day which you never answered, so, y’know, this whole World War II thing is really your fault, okay? So King’s X or I’m gonna tell my mom on you.
From:
Pinkertonspys-are-us@col.com
To:
tallguyinthetallhat@gov.com
Subject: Agent Smith and Tomorrow Night’s Theatre Plans
Date: 13 April 1865
Dear Mr. President:
Sir, we need to tell you that Agent Smith, whom we appointed as part of your security detail, has ambitions of being a theatre critic. He tends to pay attention to plays rather than to his job, so I suggest you take a different agent when you go to see Our American Cousin tomorrow night.
Vy. Ob’tly yrs,
Allan Pinkerton“We Never Sleep”
From:
uberairshippen@oops.de
To:
hindenberg@hotsy.de
Subject: In-flight repairs.
Date: 5 May 1937
Max, old boy! Word from the ground crew back here is that aircraft mechanic Schmidt is worried that he didn’t fully check electromechanical panel 43A, which has something to do with static electricity. Schmidt says if you would have the boys open that panel and make sure that Switch A is pushed to the left and Switch B is centered then your landing in degenerate America will be a whole bunch better. Happy landings, and have a hot time in New Jersey!
To:
Hefbaby@gatefold.com
From:
therchurchofnowness@something.com
Subject: Admittance to divinity school
Date: 13 February 1952
Dear Mr. Hefner:
Upon reviewing your application and your references, we are offering you a place in the freshman class this term at St. Ponsonby’s School of Divinity. In your letter you referred to your interests in art and publishing, but I can assure you that your gifts seem oriented to the ministry.
Sincerely,
Doctor Reverend Bishop Brother Whittlesby Snark
Yes, we all wonder about the emails that never were.
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