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About six months ago I got an e-mail from Totally Left Field from a high school pal I haven't seen or spoken to in, oh, about 42 years.
I liked him back then, he was smart and funny, and we were both very memorable, because when Dr. Archie Lucas the chemistry teacher caught on fire, my pal and I were the only two students who weren't paralyzed in their chairs from horror and shock, and we ran to get the fire extinguisher to put out the fire on the chemistry teacher.
(After that, I always got a passing grade in chemistry.)
By a bizarre coincidence, my pal's daughter just spent the last 4 years 1 mile east of me at Smith College. From which she was just graduated.
And her lousy bum of a dad didn't phone us or make time for us to take him and his graduating daughter out to dinner. Color me annoyed.
Anyway I made this little card for Esther.
There were millions of images of pretty roses, but I have an obsessive love for the art (and socialist rally music and poetry and hand-carved woodcut typography and fantasy fiction and economic theory and stained glass windows and tapestries and wooden furniture and and) of William Morris, and filched one of his famous wallpapers from the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Esther, I have learned, is a strict vegan, and eats neither meat nor flesh of any creature, nor dairy products, nor eggs.
I asked her dad if she eats honey. In Vegan Theory, he said, she doesn't or shouldn't or won't.
She could eat wild honey if she found a glop of it dripping from a wild hive in a tree in the woods, and she didn't have to bother or interfere with the natural activities of the wild bees to get it.
But honey from a beekeeper's apiary -- this would be honey from enslaved and exploited bees forced against their will to fly around collecting pollen and nectar to turn into honey for our evil human greed, sweet teeth, and our capitalist profit.
But dad said she knocks back honey now and then anyway, when nobody's looking.
Free The Bees!