jpt Editors,
Pass my thanks to Martha Q. Schafer for helping my whole family eat our stew [Issue 15]. Not just for children, Mr. Mole's stew stories put everyone in a yum-yum frame of mind, no matter how many (yecch) carrots are involved. —NC

Yes, but we see the work as an examination of the Universal Condition, wherein man metaphorically jiggy-wiggies with his foundation (the fertile earth) while a dire mole named Mr. Mole qua Fate schemes to steal the dumplings. This is what you must see. —ed.

Dear Editor,

Observe how subtly the dark side of children's natures is exploited and reinforced for a result desired by the manipulator ["Mr. Mole and the Little Old Lady," Issue 15.] The stew is forbidden. FORBIDDEN! And properly so. That mole has no right to it. Granny owes him nothing. The mole is a low-life thief. But when he smells those delicious turnips, when he slurps that piping-hot dumpling into his sh*t-wicked mouth, the kiddies envy that experience. Their vicarious savoring—to smell what he smells, to taste what he tastes, word by skillful word, image by titillating image—is an exhilarating circumvention of punishment. Lay the blame on the mole while hijacking his sensory payload, themselves become the Naughty One by proxy, with no fear of judgment, no conviction, no whack from the Little Old Lady's broom. Then slurp! from idea to edacious actualization—their own bowls of steaming stew become final fulfillment for a manufactured craving. It's much the way television's crime-drama entertainment plays out. Viewers are treated to rapes, murders, mutilations and mayhem from the comfy couch, until those willing to expend some energy take to the street for ultimate satisfaction. Of course the industry denies it. Protect the business model.

Now all that said, conceivably the children just want to foil that villain and get that delicious stew into all the right bellies, maybe so. Therefore never mind (I suppose). —L.B.

I see, I see. —ed.

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To the Journal of Provincial Thought,
"Perhaps my time in the world of the little models was a vaccination—it inoculated me with vicarious micro-experience." ["Model Trains," Issue 15.] It didn't work that way for me. I graduated from model-making to hopping those westbound freights. I saw more of the world and saw it more vividly during those brief years than in all the decades since. I met artists, poets, heroes and dropouts. I lost the use of a toe (not that I used it that much) but gained my sight. I'm glad I did it but glad I don't have to do it again. —Smokes

Mmm-hmm. —ed.

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Dear jpt,
Nothing to do with anything, but what do newscasters think they have gained in grabbing your attention on false pretenses, then peeing you off when the story runs precisely counter to the tease? The latest example I've suffered through: "If you're headed to the beach you might want to listen up. The reports are from _____ beaches, where SHARK ATTACKS (!!!) these past two years are......................less.... than in previous years. . ." These guys seem to think there's no such thing as undesirable attention. It's as if they share some of the sickness of a homicidal publicity seeker. No concern for integrity or even for being considered as having any. On the other hand, these studio jocks play at presenting themselves as what they think are folk: unprincipled, irrational beings who enjoy lying and being manipulated. Well, I won't have any more of it. —A.Wilson

False pretenses-- much worse than true pretenses. —ed.

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Loose ends

Subject: MFSOs
To the alert reader who pointed out that the caption ["Readers Cry Out," Issue 15] mentioned MFSOs and not FMSOs or MSFOs as defined in the article [Frosty Mug Lecture 007, "The Horror of Poison Gas and the Coming of Fire," Issue 14]: I could not define in a decent public forum like this Journal what exactly a MFSO actually is. but suffice it to say that I DO NOT LIKE them. You fill in the pieces like a sailor's DNA. No liquidation required. —Prof. Loose

We were more or less tracking, up to the "sailor DNA" and "liquidation" passages. Maybe a reader can help us out. —ed.

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Hey Fondlegod,
Only you would infer an assassination attempt from a blown tire [Admonishments, Issue 15]. I agree with you about these pesky paparazzi, though. It's hard to get a washing hung out with them always buzzing about, wearing mudholes in the driveway, stalking my kids to the school bus stop. You're welcome to my fame, if you can handle it. You loony-tune. —Walla Walla

I know you are but so am I? —FBF

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Dear Editors,
That's a nicely-done road guide from Mr. Rice [ "Go West, Old Men!" Issue 15 ]. I'll keep an eye peeled for John and Jay to come roaring through Montana some autumn afternoon. He did omit an interesting factoid: actor and Montana son Dirk Benedict (Battlestar Galactica, The A-Team) lives up there above Flathead Lake. I am no stranger to those woods myself. —DB

Ever tried calling to Dirk's dogs to get them all stirred up? You'll have to keep at it a while, for Dirk can't half hear. Or did you know that, too? —ed.

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additional Loose ends

Dear jpt Editors,
Comments concerning Professor Loose's discourse on the reptilian brain etc. [Issue 15].

"... galaxies form a pattern of distribution that I submit is not random. . ." An intriguing supposition for which I would like to hear the detailed explanation. If this is true, there are two competing systems of possibility. In one, an orderly or patterned distribution of galaxies indicates intelligent design. In the other, a) ordered patterns often arise in nature due to the mathematically describable way in which quanta of energy and matter interact, and b) there can be ordered subsets within a greater randomized system (as, for example, where one constructs a particular sequence of three amino acids and then randomly casts these organized groups upon the sea) or vice-versa (as where one fixes amino acids randomly in three-member groups and then bundles these groups in statistically indistinguishable bundles within an organized structure). I suppose that Professor Loose would not view the possibilities as incompatible. After all, the God he describes works in scientifically verifiable ways.

The Professor is absolutely correct in emphasizing that animals do have feelings. To any pet owner (especially true regarding dogs and cats) this is obvious-- and it is NOT anthropomorphizing or reaching in any way. They display simple, overt emotion in response to stimulus or situation: trepidation, guilt, sorrow, joy. Also they exhibit more subtle mood-behavior for which the cause is often discoverable or logically deducible. —R.Z.

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ed. note: Discussions of The Book of Wine and Seizures are largely being siphoned into a separate compilation instead of appearing in this forum. However, this open reply to Jay Anderson and ilk:
1. The attempts by distant nations to surrender to Tarvatillion through the mail ["The Tribulation of Tarvatillion the Slayer," Issue 15], as his reputation swept their lands, were chronicled years before the appearance of that movie you describe wherein the idea played so fresh & rad.
2. Surely you hallucinate. The only so-called taxmonsters and the only Epidydimus character we have ever known of, we first encountered in Wine & Seizures eons ago. You haps need a faith booster. --ed.