A LOT OF WONDERFUL STUFF

After what I've been eating for the past week, you will perhaps forgive me if I seem a bit gouty and irascible. Gout, as you probably know, causes one to wake up in the middle of the night in conversation with the metatarsal-phalangeal joint in one's right big toe. It is an argument one is bound to loose.

Whatever patience and courtesy I extend my big toe and its argumentative metatarsal-phalangeal joint must, necessarily, lessen the reserves of P and C that I can provide to others.

Such as the blisters (human or programmatic) that attempt to seed my 'Letterbox' with helpful information about substances that will increase my masculine endurance and stamina.
No, not going to mention the product.
You can guess what it is.


The 'Letterbox' is meant for private correspondence. Not mercantile propositions, nor pork-shoulder linkage.


Suppose, for instance, you wished to know what my thoughts were on the likelihood of Cuban cigars being available anytime soon, or wished to ask about the tea-drinking habits of folks in Chinatown, why then you would click on that link embedded at the bottom of each post, secure in the knowledge that if I dealt with your issue on the blog, I would not mention your name or anything by which you could be identified.
If you needed dating advice, the same thing.
In any case, I might e-mail you.

Imagine that you were to write: "Hi Atboth, my name is Amanda Amber-Treacle Gams, and I would like to meet you sometime over coffee and snackipoos to ascertain whether there was a likelihood of strong mutual attraction -- based on your keen wit and the mental picture I have of a short stocky Badger or similar distinguished looking Mustelid trudging around the forest with a pipe of delicious tobacco projecting from his snout I fear and hope that there might be -- which, if it were indeed so, could result in wild passion and screwing your brains out. I am twenty nine years old, calm and rational, and very well read.
Please send response to (--follows an e-mail address--)."
Just imagine. Obviously such a missive would intrigue me.
I might, going against saner judgment, write back.
At a minimum, my furry ears would perk up.

Badly written copy, advertising products to overstimulate my masculine organ, make absolutely nothing perk up, furry or otherwise.
Instead, I automatically delete such things when they appear in my spam folder, which alerts Google that the item in question was more than likely of trollish origin.

I am keenly interested in miss Amber-Treacle Gams.
Products V and C, not even a bit.


No vigera, no seeyalis.


I am sparkly and professorial, not limpwhanged and balding.




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NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
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