Dear Darwin Whitecrest,
I read your last letter with shock and horror. When your childhood should have been an experience of bountiful heaps of learning and adventure, it was instead a murky labyrinth of adult deception and possible free fall into the abyss of genetic manipulation. I don't mean to address you romantically when I write that my heart skipped a beat when I imagined you in so much danger. You were very lucky to have your Clair Clementine.
Although our current space station near Saturn is entirely operated by robots, I am told that once I step down from my current position in our joint venture, a new team of humans will need to spend 3-6 months on the station itself. The cloaking mechanism needs to be overhauled. Perhaps you will volunteer for the position of project director? This could be your chance to recapture your youth.
Before I stray too far from business matters, I would like to provide you and the Sultan with an update regarding the extraction of the Plexybutanol-hydrate-cosmostic-matterum.
** ** **
Extraction date: October 25-27
Location: Rings of Saturn
The extraction yield: 2.5 tons of matterum
Time: 72 hours of continuous mining activity
Summary: For the most part, extraction of the plexybutanol-hydrate-cosmostic-matterum was a success. However, operations were cut short during a routine telescopic surveillance sweep by the NSA. Our sources tell us that they suspected some sort of spy activity in the region, and were looking for foreign satellites of every kind. We are unsure as to why they would suspect spy activity in this part of the solar system. The NSA, needless to say, doesn't know about our work. However, they might have picked up some unscrambled transmissions between Julius, the Director of Artificial Intelligence at our base in Antarctica, and his favorite robot named Mort. They enjoy certain games of rhetoric and if Mort is ever recalled to Earth, we may enter him into the university debating circuit. We are very proud of his progress.
As for our near discovery by the Cassini-Huygens mission, this was easily averted. As it happens, one of our new marketing assistants for hair products, confections, and space operations is a whiz with Photoshop as well as the detail-oriented work of intercepting and manipulating transmissions between NASA's probes and land based research institutes. Remind me to keep Tallulah Fink on the payroll.
The materials are en-route to Earth where you can coordinate with my teams in Hawaii for the transportation to your refining plants.
** ** **
Lady Rosewater and I would very much like to experiment with the plexibubble properties once you have completed another prototype. We are eager to unlock secrets to its cellular rejuvenation.
Darwin, we may still succeed at this joint venture. A few things still will not let my mind rest. What did your country music spies uncover? What has happened to the rogue spies, Mme. Vicaduer and Mr. Butler? The Satellite Army is still planning their next move.
Best regards,
Anastasia
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
Recollections of a Dangerous Youth
Dearest Anastasia,
I do offer my sincerest apologies for my tardy reply to your most recent letter. I have been busy detaining many country western singing stars and have been able to completely stop the espionage once detected. Although, the calluses on my thumbs from the banjo show no sign of relenting!
But back to your previous letter! I must admit that your detailed explanation of such glorious lunar endeavors have been on my mind since I first read about them. And I do so incredibly appreciate how horrid your snags must have been, but selfishly I found myself transported back to my younger days. I have been preoccupied with my childhood dreams of overseeing my very own space station.
You see at the time I was enrolled in the top secret NASA Enrichment Program for gifted tots. I have been overwhelmed by vivid memories of calibrating solar analysis systems, lunar specimen filters, and comet ice trail collecting modules. Can you image a better way to spend your pre-school and kindergarten years? Oh, and what a blow to my tiny formative ego when I was pulled from the program! It is both this joy and trauma that I have been fixated on as of late. You see my father's dear assistant Claire Clementine was hacking into NASA's mainframe to check on a grade I received for a simulated flight sequence test I was given. It was a “blind-landing†Mars simulation, touchdown, and then subsequent quick departure test sequence. You had to execute all commands and module programmings blindfolded within a fourteen minute span. You see Dear Dear Ms Clementine had helped me study for it and just couldn't wait for the results to be posted. Anyway, upon her covert hack she uncovered my perfect score, and an embedded document. This document outlined in great detail the true mission statement for the formation of the very organization that I was so thoroughly enjoying. It was not pretty.
It seems that NASA had plans of sending me and my classmates on real missions, which I would have been all for in all honesty. Looking back I can see the dangers involved. And what four year-old isn't going to jump at the change of careening through space unattended by nannies or bodyguards? However, we were all unaware that tiny children, tiny hands, and overly evolved brains in tiny heads (although my head has never been tiny) meant covert operations could be carried out faster and more frequently than simply using robotics and computer enhanced nanoprobic systems. With no care for our wellbeing NASA planned to keep us up in space permanently where growth would be stunted. We would therefore become workers. No longer budding scientists, but space station servants! Working our tiny hands, that would never grow any larger, to the bone! It seems that they planned to fake a crash upon reentry, faking our deaths, and giving our parents the notion that we were gone forever. Ms Clementine stopped all of that and certain NASA officials disappeared from the program and the planet I might add.
Oh childhood! Oh childhood conspiracies and scandals! Ripped from the joy of science and stars to an unknown fate! The pain is as fresh as any of Sultan Perriwinkle's hot lemon tarts he makes on Bastille Day for all the agents and assistants.
As we know nanoprobic systems are simply the bees knees now, if you will allow me to get giddy this once. Tiny humanoids are almost never used for space upkeep, and nanoprobes have been crafted for defense throughout the years. I personally have been using them for decades in our antiserum trails with our agents and staff. It seems that no matter how many times a dark element or secret agency tries to poison our camps the nanoprobic infused olives save lives! Science is a marvelous thing when you realize that all of the olives produced in the world have been laced with nanoprobes that fight newly developed concoctions of poison used by these unsightly regimes. Any time I find myself even with the slightest, most minute, near fluttering of malaise coming over me or just the general feeling of being unwell I go into action! I make a very cold, very dry, very LARGE martini with three olives. I drink the martini and then consume the olives. And upon doing so I feel as the world is right again. To me, in my life as of late, I find that all things come full circle. I also find that time passes faster than I ever realized before. And although I wish it would slow down. Suddenly, I find that a wish is not enough!
Urgently and with strict fiery fierceness I ask you: Do you remember the findings that plexibubble does not age, breakdown, or decompose, but that it seems to get younger? A distinction that was made by one of our scientists years backs? I wonder if we could harness this quality and potentially unlock keys to time travel or at the very least cellular rejuvenation? I realize that Lady Rosewater herself has the most knowledge on such information, of turning back the clock and what-have-you. Anastasia do you think it is time to go forth with such investigations? Please do give me your thoughts!
Always,
Darwin
I do offer my sincerest apologies for my tardy reply to your most recent letter. I have been busy detaining many country western singing stars and have been able to completely stop the espionage once detected. Although, the calluses on my thumbs from the banjo show no sign of relenting!
But back to your previous letter! I must admit that your detailed explanation of such glorious lunar endeavors have been on my mind since I first read about them. And I do so incredibly appreciate how horrid your snags must have been, but selfishly I found myself transported back to my younger days. I have been preoccupied with my childhood dreams of overseeing my very own space station.
You see at the time I was enrolled in the top secret NASA Enrichment Program for gifted tots. I have been overwhelmed by vivid memories of calibrating solar analysis systems, lunar specimen filters, and comet ice trail collecting modules. Can you image a better way to spend your pre-school and kindergarten years? Oh, and what a blow to my tiny formative ego when I was pulled from the program! It is both this joy and trauma that I have been fixated on as of late. You see my father's dear assistant Claire Clementine was hacking into NASA's mainframe to check on a grade I received for a simulated flight sequence test I was given. It was a “blind-landing†Mars simulation, touchdown, and then subsequent quick departure test sequence. You had to execute all commands and module programmings blindfolded within a fourteen minute span. You see Dear Dear Ms Clementine had helped me study for it and just couldn't wait for the results to be posted. Anyway, upon her covert hack she uncovered my perfect score, and an embedded document. This document outlined in great detail the true mission statement for the formation of the very organization that I was so thoroughly enjoying. It was not pretty.
It seems that NASA had plans of sending me and my classmates on real missions, which I would have been all for in all honesty. Looking back I can see the dangers involved. And what four year-old isn't going to jump at the change of careening through space unattended by nannies or bodyguards? However, we were all unaware that tiny children, tiny hands, and overly evolved brains in tiny heads (although my head has never been tiny) meant covert operations could be carried out faster and more frequently than simply using robotics and computer enhanced nanoprobic systems. With no care for our wellbeing NASA planned to keep us up in space permanently where growth would be stunted. We would therefore become workers. No longer budding scientists, but space station servants! Working our tiny hands, that would never grow any larger, to the bone! It seems that they planned to fake a crash upon reentry, faking our deaths, and giving our parents the notion that we were gone forever. Ms Clementine stopped all of that and certain NASA officials disappeared from the program and the planet I might add.
Oh childhood! Oh childhood conspiracies and scandals! Ripped from the joy of science and stars to an unknown fate! The pain is as fresh as any of Sultan Perriwinkle's hot lemon tarts he makes on Bastille Day for all the agents and assistants.
As we know nanoprobic systems are simply the bees knees now, if you will allow me to get giddy this once. Tiny humanoids are almost never used for space upkeep, and nanoprobes have been crafted for defense throughout the years. I personally have been using them for decades in our antiserum trails with our agents and staff. It seems that no matter how many times a dark element or secret agency tries to poison our camps the nanoprobic infused olives save lives! Science is a marvelous thing when you realize that all of the olives produced in the world have been laced with nanoprobes that fight newly developed concoctions of poison used by these unsightly regimes. Any time I find myself even with the slightest, most minute, near fluttering of malaise coming over me or just the general feeling of being unwell I go into action! I make a very cold, very dry, very LARGE martini with three olives. I drink the martini and then consume the olives. And upon doing so I feel as the world is right again. To me, in my life as of late, I find that all things come full circle. I also find that time passes faster than I ever realized before. And although I wish it would slow down. Suddenly, I find that a wish is not enough!
Urgently and with strict fiery fierceness I ask you: Do you remember the findings that plexibubble does not age, breakdown, or decompose, but that it seems to get younger? A distinction that was made by one of our scientists years backs? I wonder if we could harness this quality and potentially unlock keys to time travel or at the very least cellular rejuvenation? I realize that Lady Rosewater herself has the most knowledge on such information, of turning back the clock and what-have-you. Anastasia do you think it is time to go forth with such investigations? Please do give me your thoughts!
Always,
Darwin
Monday, July 23, 2007
How Dare Jimmy Jack/ NASA Found Us
Dear Darwin,
It took several weeks to write to you as I've just returned from our headquarters in Antarctica where we were making a few minor adjustments to our robotic space station in orbit around Saturn. We did manage to work with one of our Russian partners on the development of a fleet of remotely controlled robotic miners (whom we affectionately call Mort, Mark, Mavin, and Munro). These non-human minors are scheduled for another Plexybutanol-hydrate-cosmostic-matterum extraction attempt from the rings of Saturn sometime in October. Score 3 for the Rosewater camp! One must not celebrate too early, you see, we did run into several snags.
Snag #1:
Tempers are running high between the British head of our artificial intelligence team and the cosmologist Russian, Stan. Obviously they have too much access to world news from our base camp so I requested that we jam all television frequencies that carry 24-hour news. It is, at times, impossible to complete a simple equation with the two of them fighting about expelled diplomats every fifteen minutes.
Snag#2:
NASA may have discovered our space station. We knew that Cassini was making the rounds and taking several photo albums full of images, however, we thought that our base was properly cloaked at the time. As you can see in the image, they are very keen on investigating their new "moon."
These issues will add countless hours of paperwork for me and perhaps require a return to Antarctica. Could you think of anything worse, especially now that the resort season is at its grandest heights?
Regarding your spy situation, I must confess that I don't know much about country music. My music taste can run into the flavors of folk and blues and maybe if you combine them, they become country. Maybe not.
Lady Rosewater once entertained several of us in her little-known music room on the 80th floor of her favorite tower in Dubai. Among the instruments on display is her prized banjo, handed down from her great-great aunt Bess. Not everyone knows this, but Aunt Bess, working with various Underground Railroad leaders communicated with other escapees through coded songs, some of which later became some of the first country hits of the 1880s. So on behalf of Lady Kitty Rosewater, how dare Jimmy Jack Sparks use this beautiful tradition to smuggle our plexibubble secrets! Please excuse the outburst, but this is close to Kitty's heart and therefore, close to mine.
On a more practical note, do you believe that Mr. Sparks was a free agent or a member of the Satellite Army? They may be hellbent on creating obstacles of gold-studded steel and barbed-wire Velcro but we shall prevail.
Sincerely,
Anastasia van Orange
It took several weeks to write to you as I've just returned from our headquarters in Antarctica where we were making a few minor adjustments to our robotic space station in orbit around Saturn. We did manage to work with one of our Russian partners on the development of a fleet of remotely controlled robotic miners (whom we affectionately call Mort, Mark, Mavin, and Munro). These non-human minors are scheduled for another Plexybutanol-hydrate-cosmostic-matterum extraction attempt from the rings of Saturn sometime in October. Score 3 for the Rosewater camp! One must not celebrate too early, you see, we did run into several snags.
Snag #1:
Tempers are running high between the British head of our artificial intelligence team and the cosmologist Russian, Stan. Obviously they have too much access to world news from our base camp so I requested that we jam all television frequencies that carry 24-hour news. It is, at times, impossible to complete a simple equation with the two of them fighting about expelled diplomats every fifteen minutes.
Snag#2:NASA may have discovered our space station. We knew that Cassini was making the rounds and taking several photo albums full of images, however, we thought that our base was properly cloaked at the time. As you can see in the image, they are very keen on investigating their new "moon."
These issues will add countless hours of paperwork for me and perhaps require a return to Antarctica. Could you think of anything worse, especially now that the resort season is at its grandest heights?
Regarding your spy situation, I must confess that I don't know much about country music. My music taste can run into the flavors of folk and blues and maybe if you combine them, they become country. Maybe not.
Lady Rosewater once entertained several of us in her little-known music room on the 80th floor of her favorite tower in Dubai. Among the instruments on display is her prized banjo, handed down from her great-great aunt Bess. Not everyone knows this, but Aunt Bess, working with various Underground Railroad leaders communicated with other escapees through coded songs, some of which later became some of the first country hits of the 1880s. So on behalf of Lady Kitty Rosewater, how dare Jimmy Jack Sparks use this beautiful tradition to smuggle our plexibubble secrets! Please excuse the outburst, but this is close to Kitty's heart and therefore, close to mine.
On a more practical note, do you believe that Mr. Sparks was a free agent or a member of the Satellite Army? They may be hellbent on creating obstacles of gold-studded steel and barbed-wire Velcro but we shall prevail.
Sincerely,
Anastasia van Orange
Monday, June 25, 2007
Country Music Communication
Dearest Anastasia,
I am sorry for the delay in recent communications, but just as the Rosewater Camp has discovered spies within your own organization, so now again has the Periwinkle Camp. And I must warn you this new threat is like nothing any of us, with our highly classified training, has ever experienced before. The threat is absolutely diabolical and it involves the most lethal tool ever created… country music.
It seems that a still unknown operative deep with in our organization has been moonlighting as a country music producer and song writer. This is something that we encourage our team members to do. Or rather, we encourage them to moonlight within their fields of interests and not country music producing... Not that there is anything wrong with that. It seems that our codes, communication encryptions, and security mainframe systems are so impenetrable that this individual did not leak information directly from within the organization, but instead memorized key information to share with the outside. This information involves still classified plexibuble tests that we are conducting in a zero gravity bunker below the Hollywood sign in Los Angeles, California.
This individual infiltrated the "country music scene" and is trying to piggyback our secrets on seemingly undetectable audio files interwoven with popular country songs. The stolen information can only be decoded when it is downloaded from the internet from specific country music fan sites. Like honkytonkbadunkadunk.com or redneckwhatup?.com. One of the songs that Jimmy Jack Sparks, the operative’s codename, is called "My Wife’s True Love Is Her False Eye.” It is actually a very moving story about a woman who cannot cry when times get tough country-style, because of her glass eye. When we downloaded this song we discovered that the operative's hidden file described how the intended third party could decipher and use the stolen information. It also listed an international bank account number that funds would need to be placed in before any information were to be released via a new country hit. We have time before the secrets are released.
We are currently tracking down the corporation, organization, or individual who is overseeing the bank account, but it is likely that legal roadblocks will be met. I want to ask your advice on methods you would recommend to infiltrate the country music world. I myself am currently in Nashville setting up surveillance and getting fitted for a ten gallon hat. Please contact me as soon as your schedule permits.
Always,
Darwin Whitecrest
P.S. Did you get the box of marmalade I sent?
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Butlers and Mind Control
Dear Darwin Whitecrest,
I would like to provide you with an update about our dealings with the E.C.F.O.T.C.U.N.A.N.A., which I will now call "Satellite Army" for short. The plan that we so intricately worked out has indeed gone awry. Zinovy Milchovy a.k.a. Simone Vicaduer was tipped off to our spa plans and has disappeared from the international scene. I cannot blame anyone other than myself although it is tempting to blame the butler.
You see, butlers, maids, and cooks are essential to the workings at the Kitty Rosewater estates. Each are screened for psychological abnormalities and given 2-3 years of training in martial arts, espionage, and the art of invisibility. Apparently, back in 1985, we accidentally enrolled one Gerard Butler into the program. You may know him as the character of Dracula in "Dracula 2000" or King Leonidas from "300." He was scooped up in the hills of Scotland during a training exercise and placed into the butler regiment due to a last name mix up. He left for a film career once the training was complete and we lost track of his unofficial whereabouts.
Little did we know that the Satellite Army would recruit Mr. Butler. He and the impostor, Mme. Vicaduer, responded to the same mind-controlling frequencies in orbit around the Moon. But the signs were all there in the titles of his movies. In fact, 2000 + 300= 2300, which is the atomic number for Plexybutanol-hydrate-cosmostic-matterum!
Using our very own tools of infiltration against us, Gerard Butler apparently squeezed into a very tight lab coat and went undetected for three days, posing as a building pillar in our Rosewater Clinic on the Bosphorus. He was able to warn Mme. Vicaduer of our plans to expose her true nature. Fortunately we were able to knock out one of the Moon orbiting satellites and break the mind controlling connection from both operatives. Score 2 for the Rosewater camp!
Keep your eyes open for stray operatives in and around Armand's estates. I fear that the Satellite Army controlled more than these two spies.
Take care,
Anastasia van Orange
I would like to provide you with an update about our dealings with the E.C.F.O.T.C.U.N.A.N.A., which I will now call "Satellite Army" for short. The plan that we so intricately worked out has indeed gone awry. Zinovy Milchovy a.k.a. Simone Vicaduer was tipped off to our spa plans and has disappeared from the international scene. I cannot blame anyone other than myself although it is tempting to blame the butler.
You see, butlers, maids, and cooks are essential to the workings at the Kitty Rosewater estates. Each are screened for psychological abnormalities and given 2-3 years of training in martial arts, espionage, and the art of invisibility. Apparently, back in 1985, we accidentally enrolled one Gerard Butler into the program. You may know him as the character of Dracula in "Dracula 2000" or King Leonidas from "300." He was scooped up in the hills of Scotland during a training exercise and placed into the butler regiment due to a last name mix up. He left for a film career once the training was complete and we lost track of his unofficial whereabouts.
Little did we know that the Satellite Army would recruit Mr. Butler. He and the impostor, Mme. Vicaduer, responded to the same mind-controlling frequencies in orbit around the Moon. But the signs were all there in the titles of his movies. In fact, 2000 + 300= 2300, which is the atomic number for Plexybutanol-hydrate-cosmostic-matterum!
Using our very own tools of infiltration against us, Gerard Butler apparently squeezed into a very tight lab coat and went undetected for three days, posing as a building pillar in our Rosewater Clinic on the Bosphorus. He was able to warn Mme. Vicaduer of our plans to expose her true nature. Fortunately we were able to knock out one of the Moon orbiting satellites and break the mind controlling connection from both operatives. Score 2 for the Rosewater camp!
Keep your eyes open for stray operatives in and around Armand's estates. I fear that the Satellite Army controlled more than these two spies.
Take care,
Anastasia van Orange
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Churls on the Alps
Darwin Whitecrest, assistant to Sultan Periwinkle,
That last correspondence took my breath away. To think that Lady Rosewater had unwittingly faced such dangers in the alps! I broke the news to Kitty and told her of Zinovy Milchovy’s death and the double that has replaced him. She appeared to be entirely unfazed—and this time I could not blame it on her recent botox injections. Her response on this subject was this “He was a churl back in the old days when we first met and he was a churl on our trip to the alps. How could I have known the difference?”
He was always an murderer of manners, I suppose, but she did admit to wistful regret on the subject of his death. You see, their impolite friendship grew out of an uncomfortable romance in the early sixties. (They met at one of her vodka parties in Minsk- she called it the only true party for the people.)
Simone Vicaduer will be dealt with by our people in the only way we know how—by insisting on some light cosmetic surgery which will inevitable reveal her true stature and sex. (No one can refuse a free trip to the Rosewater clinic in the Republic of Turkey.) Once she is under the cocoa and pomegranate mask at our spa, we will break her satellite connection with one of our strategic laser rifles, which was left behind on one of our favorite moon-buggies in the 1970s.
Why do I tell you of our plan? Because we are official partners and I trust you implicitly. We should reveal all to each other and yet the time constraints....all I can say is that yes, I speak an estimated 32 languages, living and dead, and believe that cosmetic enhancement is more than skin deep when applied correctly. I am also an adventurer, of sorts, much like yourself.
Sincerely,
Anastasia van Orange, communications advisor and assistant to Lady Rosewater
That last correspondence took my breath away. To think that Lady Rosewater had unwittingly faced such dangers in the alps! I broke the news to Kitty and told her of Zinovy Milchovy’s death and the double that has replaced him. She appeared to be entirely unfazed—and this time I could not blame it on her recent botox injections. Her response on this subject was this “He was a churl back in the old days when we first met and he was a churl on our trip to the alps. How could I have known the difference?”
He was always an murderer of manners, I suppose, but she did admit to wistful regret on the subject of his death. You see, their impolite friendship grew out of an uncomfortable romance in the early sixties. (They met at one of her vodka parties in Minsk- she called it the only true party for the people.)
Simone Vicaduer will be dealt with by our people in the only way we know how—by insisting on some light cosmetic surgery which will inevitable reveal her true stature and sex. (No one can refuse a free trip to the Rosewater clinic in the Republic of Turkey.) Once she is under the cocoa and pomegranate mask at our spa, we will break her satellite connection with one of our strategic laser rifles, which was left behind on one of our favorite moon-buggies in the 1970s.
Why do I tell you of our plan? Because we are official partners and I trust you implicitly. We should reveal all to each other and yet the time constraints....all I can say is that yes, I speak an estimated 32 languages, living and dead, and believe that cosmetic enhancement is more than skin deep when applied correctly. I am also an adventurer, of sorts, much like yourself.
Sincerely,
Anastasia van Orange, communications advisor and assistant to Lady Rosewater
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Secret societies and identities
Dear Anastasia van Orange of Rosewater & Associates,
I wish that our replies were not of such dire urgency and that they could be more casual or inviting. However, it has come to my attention with our dealings with the F.B.I., C.I.A., and C.U.N.A.N.A. that your contact Zinovy Milchovy who worked as chief of Soviet affairs was killed in 1983 at which time Simone Vicaduer assumed his likeness and political standings. For the past 17 years we've been following Simone aka Zinovy and her actions since her reconstructive surgery and gender altering operation. As you may or may not have known, Z. Milchovy was only 4 foot 8 and Simone was an awe inspiring 6 foot 4 . . .they actually had to shrink and manipulate her body to Milchovy’s tiny stature.
It has come to our attention that when she was being fitted for her new body, that an evil and corrupt faction of the L.L.B.G.S., know known as the E.C.F.O.T.C.U.N.A.N.A., installed a kind of mind control mechanism that at any time can be activated by a hidden satellite orbiting the moon. These members of the E.C.F.T.C.U.N.A.N.A., could very well strike at any moment using Milchovy’s new title in the Cryogenic Bio world against A. Periwinkle and all those who want to mine interstellar materials and foil our ambitions. Plexibbbles would be impossible! I’m sorry to get so worked up but if anything ever happened to Armand, I don’t know where I would go or do or be.
It has come to my attention that on Lady Rosewater’s last excursion to the Alps, which you cited in your last letter, was actually a clever plan to get rid of your employer. I guess that those involved in the hit didn't take into account that Lady Rosewater was once an Olympic skier and used to head many a Ski Patrol in her younger days. I have heard that just when they were about to shoot the Lady in the back of the head, she veered off a cliff to the left of the slope. As we all know, Lady Rosewater takes full advantage of life and left the Russian Party to explore other parts of the mountain. I guess they didn't count that Kitty always wears a parachute under her Chanel ski jacket. I think this was because of all of the flights that she took with good old Amelia, who had a nasty habit of running out of gas at 15,000 feet.
With regard to Paco Cottonbaughum, I don’t know much about him except that Armand considers him to be a long time friend. Their bond is based on trust and appreciation. Armand won’t talk to me about the origins of their friendship, but I have an inkling that they became friends when Armand used to visit orphanages and Juvenile detention facilities as a teen, lecturing on fine manners and stock market investments. Most of those who took his lectures seriously were once poor delinquents or abandoned children and now are the head of Internet companies and International law firms. I have a feeling that even Paco as the king of many realms of many regions of the Black Market that Armand respects his business savvy and impeccable fashion sense. As for his official biography, I know very little. . .which saddens me since I know even less about your history Anastasia Van Orange. All I know is that you have a wonderful sense of the English language. . .and I am sure being Kitty Rosewater’s personal assistant that you know many primitive and currently used languages. When these international scandals and assassination attempts become less frequent, we really should find more about each other.
Oh—Armand just returned from a peanut and coconut oil eyelid treatment so I must go now. But please have your sources find out more about Milchovy and we will figure a way to proceed with the interstellar mining procedure. . .
Sincerely,
Darwin Whitecrest
I wish that our replies were not of such dire urgency and that they could be more casual or inviting. However, it has come to my attention with our dealings with the F.B.I., C.I.A., and C.U.N.A.N.A. that your contact Zinovy Milchovy who worked as chief of Soviet affairs was killed in 1983 at which time Simone Vicaduer assumed his likeness and political standings. For the past 17 years we've been following Simone aka Zinovy and her actions since her reconstructive surgery and gender altering operation. As you may or may not have known, Z. Milchovy was only 4 foot 8 and Simone was an awe inspiring 6 foot 4 . . .they actually had to shrink and manipulate her body to Milchovy’s tiny stature.
It has come to our attention that when she was being fitted for her new body, that an evil and corrupt faction of the L.L.B.G.S., know known as the E.C.F.O.T.C.U.N.A.N.A., installed a kind of mind control mechanism that at any time can be activated by a hidden satellite orbiting the moon. These members of the E.C.F.T.C.U.N.A.N.A., could very well strike at any moment using Milchovy’s new title in the Cryogenic Bio world against A. Periwinkle and all those who want to mine interstellar materials and foil our ambitions. Plexibbbles would be impossible! I’m sorry to get so worked up but if anything ever happened to Armand, I don’t know where I would go or do or be.
It has come to my attention that on Lady Rosewater’s last excursion to the Alps, which you cited in your last letter, was actually a clever plan to get rid of your employer. I guess that those involved in the hit didn't take into account that Lady Rosewater was once an Olympic skier and used to head many a Ski Patrol in her younger days. I have heard that just when they were about to shoot the Lady in the back of the head, she veered off a cliff to the left of the slope. As we all know, Lady Rosewater takes full advantage of life and left the Russian Party to explore other parts of the mountain. I guess they didn't count that Kitty always wears a parachute under her Chanel ski jacket. I think this was because of all of the flights that she took with good old Amelia, who had a nasty habit of running out of gas at 15,000 feet.
With regard to Paco Cottonbaughum, I don’t know much about him except that Armand considers him to be a long time friend. Their bond is based on trust and appreciation. Armand won’t talk to me about the origins of their friendship, but I have an inkling that they became friends when Armand used to visit orphanages and Juvenile detention facilities as a teen, lecturing on fine manners and stock market investments. Most of those who took his lectures seriously were once poor delinquents or abandoned children and now are the head of Internet companies and International law firms. I have a feeling that even Paco as the king of many realms of many regions of the Black Market that Armand respects his business savvy and impeccable fashion sense. As for his official biography, I know very little. . .which saddens me since I know even less about your history Anastasia Van Orange. All I know is that you have a wonderful sense of the English language. . .and I am sure being Kitty Rosewater’s personal assistant that you know many primitive and currently used languages. When these international scandals and assassination attempts become less frequent, we really should find more about each other.
Oh—Armand just returned from a peanut and coconut oil eyelid treatment so I must go now. But please have your sources find out more about Milchovy and we will figure a way to proceed with the interstellar mining procedure. . .
Sincerely,
Darwin Whitecrest
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Dear Darwin Whitecrest, right hand (or both) to Armand Periwinkle,
According to my employer, Lady Rosewater, the time to act is now. She attended the international scientist council on issues of stellar mining techniques back in 1992 and knew that it could be achieved. That it is achievable now, is a surprise. Our links to Russia are few. We have recently ceased communications with President Putin due to some very bad sushi in the UK. The man is positively flush with radioactive assassins.
Those connections we do possess are of a very personal nature. Vladmir Pushkin IV (the renowned fashion designer who dresses all of the Siberian elite) and Lady Rosewater are very close indeed. Zinovy Milchovy, formerly chief of Soviet Affairs and now Director of Cryogenic Bio Pharmacy can also be counted among the friends of Lady Rosewater. Each were honored only last year when they had the pleasure of sharing a skiing excursion in the lower alps of Switzerland.
We are not entirely familiar with P. Cottonbaughum. I would like a more complete bio on your mining partner in order to be a better help. Suspicion in all matters cannot be helped as you may be aware of Lady Kitty Rosewater's past dealings.
I commend you in your search for perfection of this life enhancing plexibubble. All methods must be considered in preserving our respected employers. Lady Rosewater's funds and connections are therefore yours to use at your discretion. Do not worry about the absolute silence that we will retain on this subject.
Yours,
Anastasia van Orange, communications advisor and assistant to Lady Rosewater
According to my employer, Lady Rosewater, the time to act is now. She attended the international scientist council on issues of stellar mining techniques back in 1992 and knew that it could be achieved. That it is achievable now, is a surprise. Our links to Russia are few. We have recently ceased communications with President Putin due to some very bad sushi in the UK. The man is positively flush with radioactive assassins.
Those connections we do possess are of a very personal nature. Vladmir Pushkin IV (the renowned fashion designer who dresses all of the Siberian elite) and Lady Rosewater are very close indeed. Zinovy Milchovy, formerly chief of Soviet Affairs and now Director of Cryogenic Bio Pharmacy can also be counted among the friends of Lady Rosewater. Each were honored only last year when they had the pleasure of sharing a skiing excursion in the lower alps of Switzerland.
We are not entirely familiar with P. Cottonbaughum. I would like a more complete bio on your mining partner in order to be a better help. Suspicion in all matters cannot be helped as you may be aware of Lady Kitty Rosewater's past dealings.
I commend you in your search for perfection of this life enhancing plexibubble. All methods must be considered in preserving our respected employers. Lady Rosewater's funds and connections are therefore yours to use at your discretion. Do not worry about the absolute silence that we will retain on this subject.
Yours,
Anastasia van Orange, communications advisor and assistant to Lady Rosewater
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Hush-hush
Dear Assistant to Lady Rosewater,
Through careful consideration and thoughtful planning it has come to be realized that the plexibubble fortune can only exist if certain polymers are extracted from asteroids within our solar system. Sci-Fi? Not quite as the plexy in the Plexibubble is derived from Plexybutanol-hydrate-cosmostic-matterum (pronunciation may vary) from the rings around Saturn. It has become possible in the last few years to mine such an element with the help of the Russians, who unknown to almost everyone, have been pursuing a plexybutanol-hydrate-cosmotic-matterum alternative for the last 15 years.
We were able to construct one plexibubble that would contain and encase the Honorable Sultan Armand Periwinkle's head to ensure his life and well-being. However, the limited and rare materials found on our glorious planet Earth could only be extracted and formed to make the headgear element of the entire plexy suit. Yes, we have been trying to create an entire plexibubble suit for A. Periwinkle to keep in accordance with Article 4321005 of the International Impressive Peoples Act of 1978. This article states that all those of heightened cosmic importance to the human race must be preserved as living and with cognitive capabilities intact. The plexibubble head treatment, in all honesty, only allowed for A. Periwinkle to retain his brain and head mass while allowing for normal wear and tear to reek havoc on the rest of his body.
We must keep this information hush hush hush, to make sure that the Russians don't take us for a proverbial ride with costs. A. Periwinkle is intending to live for another 102 years at the very least and as we all know the US dollar in 2000 has not baring on the US dollar in 2102. For fear of losing A. Periwinkle and all the priceless knowledge that he may well bestow in the next century the Periwinkle Camp has decided to go along with the plan to extract interstellar materials. We will need the support of the Rosewater Camp and must for the first time since our Alliance has been formed rely on an outside source. This source is well known on the black market and is under the control of one Paco Cottonbaughum.
I am sorry to alarm you. We must keep this as secret as Armand and Kitty's 32nd joint face lift operation (when doctors removed the skin from teddy bear hamsters in order to restore and relocate skin and fluffy hair to the scalp and forehead).
Please send your blessings,
Darwin Whitecrest
A. Periwinkle's devote
Friday, February 23, 2007
Alas, we were not able to meet at the auction for auctioneers, nor did we catch a glimpse of one another at the Soho afterparty sponsored by the debonair Diddy-daddy-do. All the while, Darwin wished that he could replace champagne bubbles with a decent tet-a-tete with me. He needed to discuss a secret project: The Plexi-Bubble Extraction.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Dear Mr. Whitecrest,
I apologize for the missing details regarding our auction location, a minor problem that occurred with a good number of our invitations due its edible nature. Our carrier pigeons are feeling the side effects of that clerical misjudgement. Find the enclosed auction address [omitted from this post due to security concerns]. We will add an additional note regarding the plexibubble to our program. My curiosity concerning this device has the better of me. Guests to the auction will be arriving via helicopter or parachute, as usual. Will Mr. Periwinkle’s plexibubble helmet prevent lifts and drops?
Anastasia van Orange
I apologize for the missing details regarding our auction location, a minor problem that occurred with a good number of our invitations due its edible nature. Our carrier pigeons are feeling the side effects of that clerical misjudgement. Find the enclosed auction address [omitted from this post due to security concerns]. We will add an additional note regarding the plexibubble to our program. My curiosity concerning this device has the better of me. Guests to the auction will be arriving via helicopter or parachute, as usual. Will Mr. Periwinkle’s plexibubble helmet prevent lifts and drops?
Anastasia van Orange
Dear Ms. van Orange,
Your invitation is accepted and much appreciated. His Honor and Sultan A. Periwinkle is in Santa Fe, where the climate allows for his rejuvenation of cells and yet diagnosed growths to flourish. I do accept your invitation on his behalf but we need a specific date. You see, Armand’s plexybubble is being refitted for him. The doctors have collectively agreed that Armand needs to breathe pure Ozone and so the plexybubble was the only solution. This bubble of plexi-plastic material acts as a helmet, a shield that only covers his head and regulates his atmosphere. Though complicated sounding, no preparations need to be made for him whilst attending the auction. He would only ask that an explanation and description of the plexy bubble be added to the bottom of the auction item description. Something to the point. “His Honorable Sultan Periwinkle is now undergoing treatment for old age and upper respiratory cleansing. Please take no heed when you see a rather large helmet surrounding his head and seemingly cutting off his air-supply. What he wears is a plexybubble helmet and it is by doctor’s orders.” This is only so that those attending do not become overtaken with unnecessary worry with regards to Armand’s well-being.
Cheers,
Darwin Whitecrest
Personal Assistant to A. Periwinkle
VP Chairperson of Plexy Bubble Inc.
Your invitation is accepted and much appreciated. His Honor and Sultan A. Periwinkle is in Santa Fe, where the climate allows for his rejuvenation of cells and yet diagnosed growths to flourish. I do accept your invitation on his behalf but we need a specific date. You see, Armand’s plexybubble is being refitted for him. The doctors have collectively agreed that Armand needs to breathe pure Ozone and so the plexybubble was the only solution. This bubble of plexi-plastic material acts as a helmet, a shield that only covers his head and regulates his atmosphere. Though complicated sounding, no preparations need to be made for him whilst attending the auction. He would only ask that an explanation and description of the plexy bubble be added to the bottom of the auction item description. Something to the point. “His Honorable Sultan Periwinkle is now undergoing treatment for old age and upper respiratory cleansing. Please take no heed when you see a rather large helmet surrounding his head and seemingly cutting off his air-supply. What he wears is a plexybubble helmet and it is by doctor’s orders.” This is only so that those attending do not become overtaken with unnecessary worry with regards to Armand’s well-being.
Cheers,
Darwin Whitecrest
Personal Assistant to A. Periwinkle
VP Chairperson of Plexy Bubble Inc.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Auction Invitation
The following is a Copy of invitation to Lady Kitty Rosewater's Charity Auction. The originals have since decomposed.
Notice to Darwin Whitecrest; Personal Assistant and Chronic Liaison:
Thank you very much for the newsletter concerning our dear Armand. Lady Rosewater, my employer, was surprised to learn that he is well. Rumors have been unkind as of late. Knitting circles and weblogs have been spinning tales of illness.
In response, Lady Rosewater cordially invites both you and Armand to our favorite charity event. We will be holding our New York Auction at Christy’s Auction House. You may arrive as per usual protocol, by helicopter or parachute. This year’s theme is: auction for auctioneers. The money raised will go to the auctioneers suffering from various forms of arthritis from gavel handling and fast-talking.
As Lady Rosewater is chairwoman and designated “big spender” of the event, we would be pleased to the teeth if Armand could attend.
Love to all,
Anastasia van Orange
Assistant to Lady Rosewater
**Christy's Auction House is not the same well-known Christie's © auction house located in London, England.
Notice to Darwin Whitecrest; Personal Assistant and Chronic Liaison:
Thank you very much for the newsletter concerning our dear Armand. Lady Rosewater, my employer, was surprised to learn that he is well. Rumors have been unkind as of late. Knitting circles and weblogs have been spinning tales of illness.
In response, Lady Rosewater cordially invites both you and Armand to our favorite charity event. We will be holding our New York Auction at Christy’s Auction House. You may arrive as per usual protocol, by helicopter or parachute. This year’s theme is: auction for auctioneers. The money raised will go to the auctioneers suffering from various forms of arthritis from gavel handling and fast-talking.
As Lady Rosewater is chairwoman and designated “big spender” of the event, we would be pleased to the teeth if Armand could attend.
Love to all,
Anastasia van Orange
Assistant to Lady Rosewater
**Christy's Auction House is not the same well-known Christie's © auction house located in London, England.
Armand Periwinkle Fanclub
To all members of the Armand Periwinkle fan club, this is just a message dismissing any rumor that Armand is dead. I know throughout the international circles of hob-knobbing that this was considered fact. However, our idol and icon is very much alive and deliriously content. Living well over 102 years on this glorious planet Earth, Armand sends his love and phlegm covered wishes to you all.
Thanks and good tidings,
Personal Assistant and Chronic Liaison,
Darwin Whitecrest
Thanks and good tidings,
Personal Assistant and Chronic Liaison,
Darwin Whitecrest
The Invisible Hand of the 20th and 21st Century
They ask nothing of us—apart from a general request to abstain from the human tendencies that include stealing, lying, and brutalizing each another. They invent the technologies we use, set the standards of fashion, manage vast fortunes, and seem to live forever. But more importantly, they work night and day to protect the world from villains and imbeciles who would destroy the very tectonic plates beneath the Earth's crust, just to attain ultimate power. The Illuminati is too weak an organization to hold them in check and Forbes richest couldn't pay for their lifestyle. These few ladies, barons, and sultans (LBS) would be hailed as heroes, if their work was known. I call one of them "boss."
The LBS motto is "Set others free with an invisible hand." This motto was found in a small fortune cookie given to me by the perennial fashion plate and an original LBS member, Lady Kitty Rosewater. At the time, I was a New York City doorman, or rather door person, at one of her many residences. One bright afternoon she threw the cookie to me after returning from a drive to the country. She later emerged from the building near the end of my shift in order to present a robotic plexiglass arm to me. Was it a play on the motto? Did it mean that I was let in on the secret? Only Lady Rosewater could convey such a subtle message with this kind of daring maneuver in mid-afternoon. I have collected may relics since that time and accrued countless hours as the ever faithful assistant to Lady Kitty Rosewater.
Read the following correspondences at your leisure as my esteemed colleague, Darwin Whitecrest and I reveal the secret world of the LBS, with their permission, of course. -Anastasia van Orange
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