Dearest Ben, Ha! It says, “Not for resale.” And now I’ve bent a page backward and the cover’s fucked ❤️. But that’s not what I meant to say. I meant to say this: “Jamie claimed recently that you’re the ‘most cynical person’ she knows, and I think that’s awesome. Because human sociobiology assumes that humans are vehicles for unscrupulous, abiotic operators whose only goal is to multiply. And I’ve seen the hook, the line, and the sinker, and I believe this with my whole mouth. “In these pages you’ll find me at my least filtered (except perhaps for this inscription, which may be less filtered still). I hope that piques your interest, because - skeptic to fellow skeptic - if I can get you in my corner then maybe I’m onto something, here. In short: you don’t have to tell me if it’s shit. But if you do like it, write a review? “Have a Merry Christmas - or a humbug one, whichever is your preference. And let’s be friends. (I’m pretty sure you don’t have to be my enemy’s enemy for that, but could also be my friend’s husband?) I’ll leave you with a dark poem NOBODY should read. The Paraplegic Narcissist That’s fine. Leave me here. Alone. But turn me toward the microphone?” Cheers, My name. Pictured to the right is a “Hoopy Frood” Douglas Adams-themed mug, which coincidently has a happy shark on it, not unlike my cover art.

Don’t mean to inundate you with posts, friends, and neither do I mean to boast too, too much. But this inscription, though. It might be my best work!*

*Unqualified.

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