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I had to go to the post office yesterday.
I’d finally gotten around to doing one of the most heinous tasks on the to-do list I call “Noxious But Necessary”: I had written a letter to the Houston Police Department’s red-light camera enforcement unit to explain why I should not be held responsible for running a red light that I didn’t run. I printed and signed the letter, made copies of the letter and original citation, enclosed the exculpatory photos of my actual car with its actual license plate, and packed everything neatly in a 6-1/2 x 9-1/2 envelope. (Everything looks more reasonable, law-abiding, and forthright in a 6-1/2 x 9-1/2 envelope, don’t you agree?)
Unfortunately, my sister, though not usually given to conspiracy theories …more
Dear sir:
Next creation? If you’ll pardon my French, you have got to be out of your blessed MIND! Have you completely forgotten how we reached the impasse at which we now find ourselves?
Let Me refresh your memory. The last time you decided to try your hand at creation, I attempted to outline for you a number of suggestions in the form of a PowerPoint presentation that you chose to completely disregard. I believe that My ideas were very reasonable, and as you will probably recall My saying (since you are omniscient and whatnot), …more
Dr. Everett Clinton Raines, Jub.D., couldn’t find a single soul who enjoyed cleaning toilets. So 156 years after taking his doctorate and 27 years after playing a substantial role in the establishment of the Freude Three colony, where he remained a thought leader and a sort of elder-among-elders, he returned to academia, this time to pursue a degree—or rather to acquire practical expertise, if you asked him—in robotic engineering.
This wasn’t the first time that Dr. Raines had reinvented himself, but the stakes had never been higher. At risk—the very founding principle of Freude Three: the premise that in a sufficiently large closed system of fully actualized human beings, if every citizen were free to follow his or her joy, all discord would disappear, and a utopia—a heaven-on-earth—would naturally evolve into being.
In the early days, …more
Mrs. Martineau is not going to be happy about the spy satellite in my front yard. It doesn’t matter that it’s not my fault. As far as she’s concerned, I can’t do anything right. In her narrow little mind, the hunk of scorched aluminum and copper jutting out of my azalea bed will be just one more sign of my anti-social tendencies, like my habit of putting the recycling bin out by the curb before 7 p.m. on the night before recycling day, or the “parade of questionable characters” who come and go from my house at all hours.
Things started off okay with Mrs. Martineau. On the day I moved in, she brought over a plate of cookies.
“Welcome to Timber Trails! We’re so pleased …more
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