Looks nice. Looks like an implement of the type that historians from the year 2217 (yes, I have been there, briefly) suggest used to be used to make marks on paper, for reasons most of those far flung people cannot comprehend. Good luck with it. Oh, by the way, the reason they cannot comprehend is because they are living in caves surrounded by radioactive desolation.
My friend Tetrapilotomos, looking up from proof-reading the 1,669 pages of his opus magnum 'Pre-Assyrian philately in a Nutshell', just asked me to ask: Are there stamps still en vogue in 2217?
Ah... Tetrapilotomos, a legendary hero who like so many literary giants did not achieve any smidgeon of success and recognition until they were dead (much like yourself - write on...)
"And?", he asked, "did he answer the question?"
I am not sure how to break the news, or whether you should, that the last ever recorded so called "stamp" did have his image on it - a memorial last imprint, but sadly hand-drawn in animal blood on the wall inside a cave, alongside the earlier drawing of Trump and Kim together within a large mushroom shape.
Oh... and an unrecognisable fat Chinese chappy lying beside them with a man in a bearskin hat alongside. I left before explaining the historical image. Still, you have a few years left (not many). Lift your pen.
Uff! Feck off, warmongers! As for lifting the pen: The older I get the less time I have to be diplomatic. Do you think its's worthwhile to lift the pen for the few years left? Eveno though there might be no one (left) to read ... and comprehend?
Not only is it worthwhile, it is essential, for it will give purpose to your hours, warm your weary mind, and ultimately interest and intrigue and even possibly entertain minds other than your own - one, ten, several thousand, a million? Who knows? What does it matter? What does anything matter? But lift up your pen, and write.
...oh, and drink. Cheers.
Good advice! Feel yourself thankfully kissed on your shiny baldness, dear friend.I shall now retire. In case I wake up, after breakfast I shall lift the pen, and write.The peace of the night!
Gentlemen, this is the best exchange I ever read in the blog world. I thank you for the entertainment. Hope one of the future historian cave-dwellers is able to decipher it. My prayer for them is that they can still concoct a strong liquid brew to cheer the hours away while looking at the desolate outside scenery. Knowing the male mind, I'm convinced that they have found a way to save the malt ingredients, and keep the supply potent for thousands of years to come. May I have a sip? Merci!
Ah... Lady Claude... They found your poems you know, not long after your passing. I will not betray the date lest I spoil the surprise. They were much appreciated by many. Some even adorn the walls of a few caves. Interesting stuff this time travel, but troubling; although of course there are also the parallel universes to explore, where things are often somewhat better. My friend Aileen offers glimpses, but not many.
You never know but that book you write with your fine new pen may turn out to be the one upon which a whole new society relies upon for wisdom. Oh dear..
It may be picked up and transmuted into the new "Bible" of a new society. The Wisdom of Saint Sean".Stranger things have happened. Oh dear...
Oh dear, Andrew.Or should it read Oh, dear Andrew ... :)
Ha ha ha ... yes, Susan: Oh dear..