Exhibit 16.15

I'll be in Conway, Arkansas, until Saturday and couldn't be more excited about it. And I love that poster, but I can think of at least three things wrong with it:

"poet?"
"story collection?"
"naked?"

Maybe that oblique Simpsons reference isn't an appropriate one to make when going to visit undergraduates. Maybe it's exactly appropriate. Well, we'll find out, won't we?

I don't think I know any Arkansas folks who aren't the lovely people hosting me, but, if I'm wrong, stop by and say hello. I'll be the disappointed guy whose waiter didn't ask him what kind of Coke he wanted.

I've been promised this happens in the South since I was little. This is finally my chance to see it in person. I don't care if Tyrone has to drive me to Georgia, I'm going to get asked what kind of Coke I want.

Oddly, despite having thought about this phenomenon--almost non-stop--since I was 6 or so, I've never actually figured out what I would say to this question.

"Standard?"
"Traditional?"
"Classic?"
"Christmas?"

If I say Christmas and they bring out a can with Santa on it, I'm never leaving.

Well, I'd say this post has gone on about 100 words too long. I'll leave quietly now.