Exhibit 16.22

What It's Like to Get an Email from Me

Perhaps because I want to use my new email tag again or maybe just to warn off anyone thinking of emailing me after yesterday's post, but I figured I'd give you a window into what it's like to get an email from me. It's probably exactly like you imagine. Let's say your email is something like this:

• To: Me
• From: You
• Subject: Hello
• Hey Adam I drove through Lincoln yesterday and thought of you. Sorry I couldn't stop. Let me know how things are going.
• Later,
• You

That's a pretty standard email. Here's how I would respond:

• To: You
• From: Me
• Subject: Well...
• The thing is, hmm, well, I don't really know what to say, I suppose I could go either way, but, O, wait, what about maybe, no, no, I don't think that will work at all.
• [sigh]
• Okay, I know--hold on a second--do you remember when (and I mean the first time here not the second time [although I guess that time sort of works too]), um, maybe that isn't a good example but, that said, we should probably just forget about everything.
• It's just that, I don't know, maybe it is okay. Fine. Yes, that's actually great. Whatever you decide works for me, etc.
• So good. We're good. Perfect. I feel good. How do you feel? I imagine good. Or something.
• Whatever happened with that disease you had? You're driving through Nebraska, so I guess things didn't go as bad as everyone thought they might, right?
• A.

I'm just trying to prepare you for disappointment. You know that, right? Etc.

Exhibit 14.23

I've read a fair amount about the Somali pirates but don't really understand the issues well enough to tell you how I should feel. I can only tell you how I do feel:

I love the Somali pirates.

Exhibit 4.27

From The Tin Drum:

"In Maria's hand a hissing and bubbling set in. The woodruff erupted like a volcano, seethed like the greenish fury of some exotic nation. Something was going on that Maria had never seen and probably never felt, for her hand quivered, trembled, and tried to fly away, for woodruff was biting her woodruff penetrated her skin, woodruff excited her, gave her a feeling, a feeling, a feeling...

The green grew greener, but Maria grew red, raised her hand to her mouth, and licked her palm with a long tongue. This she did several times, so frantically that Oskar was close to supposing that her tongue, far from appeasing the woodruff feeling that so stirred her, raised it to the limit, perhaps beyond the limit, that is appointed to all feeling."

I swear to god, this "Fizz Powder" chapter in The Tin Drum may be the dirtiest thing I have ever read, at least the dirtiest thing involving candy, a young man in suspended toddlerhood, and woodruff.