It would be likely to lead to prosecution, strongly disapproved of by me, and somewhat funny to send her an envelope containing only confectioner's sugar.
I might send her erotic poetry and sign it "Ahmed Chalabi".
On a less humorous note, this post reminded me that I need to write a real letter to someone else in a similar circumstance. I'm going to try to finish that before I leave work today.
If we each do one sentence, I think we can compose a pretty good letter to Judy.
Dear Ms. Miller,
My people tell me you're in prison.
Of course, those of us who come at the beginning will have greater influence on the course of the letter than those who come later!
I was once almost in a similar situation.
No, no, no. Ogged has started us off all wrong.
First sentence: "I read in the Times today that you are in prison." Which allows us: "(But who believes everything they read in the Times these days?)"
I take that back. Either you play the game or you don't. Sorry about that ogged. Feel free to kill the above.
I learned that prison can be fun and safe, if you keep these tips in mind.
If this reads disjointedly, please forgive me for throwing me down the stairs my shoes.
1. Learn how to keep secrets. Your new colleagues appreciate that.
So far we have:
Dear Ms. Miller,
My people tell me you're in prison. I was once almost in a similar situation. I learned that prison can be fun and safe, if you keep these tips in mind. Do you have any photos? 1. Learn how to keep secrets. Your new colleagues appreciate that.
Can we come around again for another sentence?
2. The first person to look at you funny, shiv 'em, else someone will report that you have WMDs and must be invaded (aka "made someone's bitch").
I am very sorry I suggested anything listy. Listy bad.
3. Take the opportunity to introduce yourself to Jeebus; I think you'll find you like Him.
I wasn't denigrating any particular item in the list. It's just that a list doesn't lend itself well to creative cooperation.
18-17 wasn't a real question. It was what I wanted in the letter.
I am placid as a dove in liquid nitrogen.
Let's start over, with only ogged's and Ben's lines retained. Also, let's put letter lines in quotes to distinguish them from other comments. I am going to abstain, because my dove is so placid.
Good idea. Better to italicize the letter. Ok, we have:
Dear Ms. Miller,
My people tell me you're in prison. I was once almost in a similar situation.
Alright, SB, you're really trying to obtain my ruminant, aren't you? I say fie on your placid aggression.
Having reported that the Maine was blown to smithereens by those greaseball Spaniard imperialists, wroth at America's failure to kowtow to their fading old-world splendor, I faced near certain jail time.
Let it be noted that I have no idea why the voices in my head are making me write this way today, or try to tangle with our beloved Unca Standpipe.
I heard that the Spaniards approached Hearst in an attempt to buy the Yellow Kid.
Dear Judith Miller,
Unnamed sources close to high-level officials in the Justice Department have informed me on the condition of anonymity that you are going to be spending time in a set of rooms that, according to experts who, owing to the sensitive nature of the case, do not wish to be identified, potentially could function as a prison, or rather, as a location of mass incarceration.
This has the makings of a front-page story and I hope you treat it as such.
Anonymouse
But I evaded my would-be captors, embedded myself with Roosevelt's Rough Riders, and made my way to the front at Cuba.
Now we're cooking with napalm!
I'm not clear on the letter: why would someone be jailed for reporting what the Fox Hearst newspapers were reporting?
One of the rules of improv is no questioning or contradicting statements, however absurd, made by one's partners.
Our letter seems to be turning into a historical fiction short story.
This would be a great gimmick: stories in the form of letters to Judith Miller from historical/historical-fictional personages advising her on her plight, or just making chitchat with someone similarly situated. Joe, call your agent.
Come to that, it's a good rule for relationships. (Yes, I note there are plural partners, and someone should now feel free to say Automatic Teller Machine.)
But slol, since this isn't live, we can simultaneously discuss the direction in which our letter is heading at one level and contribute unquestioningly to it at the other.
And, it would be very funny if improv comics panned each other's lines during a skit.
Who the would-be captors were would have had an effect on the portion of the letter that I am no longer inspired to write.
I'm reading actual handwritten 19th century letters right now. So there.
Why is no one praising 34 to the high heavens?
Slol: Our narrator was a stringer for the Hearst machine writing from Cuba, escaping the clutches of the Spaniards through derring-do and/or bullying the lieutenant of his/her (it remains to be seen, does it not?) American embassy Marine guard platoon.
Yellow journalism (such as was involved in the reporting in the run-up to the Spanish-American war) was so called because of the Yellow Kid, one of the first if not the first talking American comic strip character. Also "Yellow Kid" is like "yellowcake".
Ben, funny but involuted. Like Unfogged!
Ogged, I don't make up the rules, I just follow orders from the Vizier of Improvisateurs. O no! I have revealed our secrets...
Ah. If I had known these things I would have laughed. (Actually, I think I did know that at one point, but didn't have it stored close enough to the surfae for recall to happen.)
You do know that it's extremely hard to weaponize Yellow Kid. The Spaniards lacked the technological capacity; they must have been acting in the interests of a third party.
I'm convinced that "Well Hullygee Here's to You" means, "We are at or near the apex of a great civilization" in Hearstese.
time-travelling Saddam!! Oh noes!
Tie that non sequitourniquet tighter, Michael.
I used to think non sequitors were funny. Then I ate some ice cream. I like ice cream.
Michael needs to put it in italics. And have it make narrative sense.
The Yellow Kid isn't part of our letter yet, though.
Was that the premise behind 59? I was thinking it didn't make a slol lotta sense.
The fog of war is a dense one, and dangerous to soldiers and reporters alike. In order to distinguish myself from the combatants and ensure that the bullets, at least those that flew true, did not release me from my earthly vessel and send me into the unbearable darkness of some long night wherein I would be forced to repent the sins of my misspent youth, I dressed thusly and by this means avoided being mistaken for one who had agreed, by donning the garb of a military man, to make the ultimate sacrifice for love of country.
Anyone wanna Photoshop "I was proved fucking right!" onto the Yellow Kid's apron? (Words may be in the wrong order.)
Dear Ms. Miller,
My people tell me you're in prison. I was once almost in a similar situation. Having reported that the Maine was blown to smithereens by those greaseball Spaniard imperialists, wroth at America's failure to kowtow to their fading old-world splendor, I faced near certain jail time. But I evaded my would-be captors, embedded myself with Roosevelt's Rough Riders, and made my way to the front at Cuba. The fog of war is a dense one, and dangerous to soldiers and reporters alike. In order to distinguish myself from the combatants and ensure that the bullets, at least those that flew true, did not release me from my earthly vessel and send me into the unbearable darkness of some long night wherein I would be forced to repent the sins of my misspent youth, I dressed thusly and by this means avoided being mistaken for one who had agreed, by donning the garb of a military man, to make the ultimate sacrifice for love of country. Purple monkey dishwasher
Also, don't drop the soap -- it's a total cliche.
Dear Ms. Miller,
My people tell me you're in prison. I was once almost in a similar situation. I learned that prison can be fun and safe, if you keep these tips in mind. During sexual relations with your cellmate, the exchange of sexual relations is interdict. Further, using anything but the left hand is traif.
I think I'll write one from Saddam Hussein.
("Whatever you do, don't just march around in your underwear.")
Hmm, as long as we're talking about changes in living arrangements, it looks like I and the missus-to-be will soon be decamping from NYC to Brussels for about the next four years.
Since the Unfogged readership seems to be a pretty cosmopolitan bunch, does anyone have any info or recommendations about Brussels, or Belgium and surrounding environs in general, that they'd like to share? Guidebook or other reading recommendations? Also, my French is pretty good, but how important do you think learning some Dutch (other than for the sheer fun of it) would be?
66 almost reads like something from T. Herman Zweibel.
That thought occurred to me, too.
When do we start collaboratively writing the erotic poetry mentioned in #2?
