Click doohickey to enlarge.
Something quite wonderful has just happened to moi -- and typically what just happened to moi involves medical waiting rooms and phlebotomists, so Wonderful is both Wonderful AND Rare.
Scarce as hen's teeth, some would say. (A glass case in a small museum in Corpus Christi, Texas was labelled HEN'S TEETH, but I can't remember what, if anything, was inside.)
The Wonderful Something centers on a bit of Private Correspondence -- actual exchange of Snailmail, with envelopes affixed with vrai postage stamps. Quel 1983! A data exchange you can TOUCH and WEIGH and de temps en temps WHIFF!
btw the USPS stamp to send a No. 10 envelope with 1 sheet inside to Yerp is singularly ugly and hard to peel and affix. I have subsequently overpaid to send my Yerp recipient Pretty Butterflies.
"Il Postino" is the Italian mailman who serves the exiled Chilean poet Neruda, and the first thing il Postino notices is the unusually large number of pleasantly, even stimulatingly scented letters from all over the planet. That gets the mailman's attention, because as it turns out he has been seeking ways to ratchet up his Woman-Related Life, and obviously this Señor Neruda has some effective gimmicks with Women. (If you want to know about his gimmicks, read some Neruda poems. Leave A Comment. No fragrance please.)
(Moiself, i do not receive a lot of floral scented snailmail. Don't send me any, not even as a gag. I have a Wife. And 5 cats.)
But anyway, I consider myself obligated, unless instructed contrariwise, to keep the stuff in the flying physical snailmails private & confidential.
ADMIRAL: And I'm never never never ever sick at sea
CHORUS: Never?
ADMIRAL: Well ... HARDLY ever ...
-- Gilbert & Sullivan
Okay, well, Vleeptron & its Partners throughout Galaxy Dwingeloo-2 have held a Skype teleconference to consider what, if anything, Vleeptron MAY extract or subduct from this private correspondence.
The limited, protected, guarded Answer is fig. 1 above.
Vleeptron has designated this curious whatchamacallit a PizzaQ.
(Yeah, yeah, we know we still owe Much Explanatory Text on a previous PizzaQ, we been busy. Patience is a Virtue. PatfromCH won 92 percent of the Pizza.)
So, like, what is Fig. 1?
Can you make cucumber sweet pickles with it?
Can it walk the dog? Milk the chickens? (I am still in the Up Learning Curve regarding the farm sciences.)
I mean, just tell me ANYTHING you know about This Odd Thing.
That's all the Vleeptron Skype teleconference feels free to divulge regarding this snailmail exchange at this time. You got to fill in the rest, or more, or something.
This one's worth -- hey, I like this one, and now it's a Personal Thing -- 2 Large Pizzas. Certified 100 Percent Gluten-Free.
My first Latin textbook showed a detail of a beautiful mosaic eternally preserved under Pompeii. Some previous scholar had penned WHO ORDERED THE EXTRA CHEESE in the margin.
Pompeii's most notorious, filthy, lewd Dirty Pictures are the entrance mosaics in a big dockside whorehouse. The sailors coming ashore very often could not read or grok early classical Latin, so a Menu of Naked Pretzel Things -- well, you would point to the Pretzel you wanted, and it also told you how many drachmas that would cost a Mediterranean mariner.
I'd call the cops and the sandblasters to get rid of this vile smut, but the vile smut has been designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and armed guards and dogs and CCTV protects the sailor pretzel cartoons from outraged Calvinists.
I don't know what year they changed the rule but my UK woman friend says that when her family visited in the late 1950s, Dad and Brother Will were permitted to step inside, but Mum and my little friend were strictly not allowed inside. But now all genders may pay the 2 euro and step in and gawk and wallow, and imagine themselves in No. 4. Or a combo 1 and 4, me want that.
This is the only UNESCO WORLD HERITAGE PORN FILTH I know anywhere on Earth, but if you know where there's more, please Leave A Comment. Apparently every country road you stroll down in India you pass huge stone statues of huge rock-hard erect penises. each roughly the size of General Sherman. I don't know if UNESCO or the appropriate ministry has certified them.
So anyway, Vleeptron has asked the PizzaQ, or as much of it as we feel comfy asking.
You answer.
You're smart. You can get this.
Conversely, if you cannot get this, you are Not Smart (cf. Boole, DeMorgan, et al).
