How the Watley Review came to be. Sort of.

Volume 2, Issue 18, May 4, 2004

A Pestilential Postal Problem

Sifting through my Correspondence is ever a central feature of my Mornings, usually undertaken as I drink my Coffee and enjoy my first Pipe of the Day (usually the Cherrywood, unless it is Raining). There is ever a Pleasant array in my mahogany Electro-Mail box, and I delight in perusing Letters from long-time Readers and new-comers Alike. Studying the letters for Clues is a Favorite pastime: a fine German watermark? A hint of lavender Perfume? The ring left by a cup of Tea carelessly placed upon it? - Each page speaks Volumes.

There is of course the occasional Circular: an Avertorial or two, selling House-wares or other such things. These are at times Amusing; but where the antics of a single Bee humming about one's garden might prove Entertaining, those of a whole Hive are definitely not: so too have the Advertorials become a pestilent Swarm.

Day after Day they arrive now, Uncivilized and Unwanted. I have no need of your Patent-Medicine, sir! - Madam, my Financial affairs are not your Concern! - No, I do not wish to "Find Anyone, Anywhere," as I know a good Consulting Detective - I do not wish Discount Prices on Soft-Ware; there is a perfectly fine Haberdashery around the Corner! - I cannot Help you export Funds out of Nigeria, sir! - By thunder, when will the torrent End? My letter-opener is becoming Dull!

I began by asking my faithful secretary Elisabeth to please sort and Bundle the unwanted Electro-Mail in a separate Box. But alas! Clever though she Is, these confounded missives now come Disguised in envelopes much like my regular Mail. No longer confined to Coarse Yellow envelopes, they come sealed in Linen, often Addressed to me personally; at times they mimic Bills or Subpoenas (though I safely send all those to Ephram). Still my day is ever more Consumed with discarding this noisome Pile of Junk-Mail.

And then, it finally happened: Elisabeth delicately plunked a new Sack of Mail into my In-Box, and the carved mahogany Side cracked in Two. Moreoever, it very nearly spilled my glass of Glenmorangie, which I was constrained to drink in a Hurry; and my inkwell, which I was not inclined to Drink, particularly, but deftly managed to slide into the Flower-Vase.

I have replaced the Box, and made sure that a Fire is laid on in the Fireplace when I arrive to work each morning now; and a Very Great Deal of my mail feeds the merry crackling Flames, which cheers me Quite a Bit. But I am somewhat put Out at having to purchase a new Electro-Mail box, and ponder what sort of Human Being would inflict such daily electro-postal Horrors upon his fellow Man. I do not know how such people Sleep at night.

Ezekiel F. Watley, Esq.