He is a Material Earl. He lives in a Material World
In school I was accused of not sharing ( my essay, J’Accuse). To put this assertion to rest, I’ve decided to share some Letters to the Earl, herewith:
Dear Earl, Last year I was struck by a meteorite near Vermillion New Hampshire ( the town name is fictitious). Should I write a book about the experience? Don Donphil ( Not my real name.)
Dear Don, I’ll maintain the fiction of your name so as to provide a jumping off point for my reply. A meteorite striking a man in New Hampshire is an excellent example of books that I tend to avoid whilst browsing. Such efforts, whether labeled “as told to” or “based on a true events” conjure in me a lurid curiosity best left fallow. That said, this is a subjective business, and in this crowded marketplace, not literally, of course, but figuratively, Don, think of the marketplace as an amorphous version of your own village shopping emporium stuffed to the gills with objets d’art and unpredictable children, adorable yet prone to manic outbursts, weeping, coughing, tiny fingers covered with gooey food…you get my drift. Perhaps your injuries were heinous enough to require treatment? If so, hire a professional rather than writing the treatment yourself.
Dear Mr. Earl, I like the blog The Earl is a Fool. It’s funny and you’re not. Signed, Michael Ovitz.
Dear Michael, Yours of the ninth ultimo was read aloud by Depew at a recent conclave of barristas near Stoke upon the Avon. I can’t control what the man does in his free time, although I will confess to being shocked that a man with your literary signature, to coin a phrase, would have confused a barrista assemblage with that of the barristers convention in Penzance. I remain, however, yours in sychophantic adoration, The Earl.