SpecGram Vol CL, No 2 Contents Letters to the Editor

An April Fool

A Letter from the Managing Editor

Fake. It is all fake. I’ve spent over a decade believing all of this crap, and I’ve devoted the last few years of my life to perpetuating it, working my fingers to the bone. I have recently discovered that much of the supposed history of SpecGram is made up. There have been clues, which I have, perhaps willfully, ignored.

Even the letter from the editor, which I wrote, in the last issue, is full of clues. I, unthinkingly, merely passed on this clap-trap I’ve had drilled into my own head.

Somewhere between a million and a million and a half issues of SpecGram from 1888 and not one copy survived? Eighteen mudslides is possible, but improbable--eighteen mudslides in landfills stretches credibility to the breaking point. And what the hell is “3 7/16 fires” even supposed to mean, anyway?

That’s it.. find a new Managing Editor, a new lap-dog lackey to believe in this crap. Not me, buddy. I quit!

(Scroll down.)

April Fools!

I’m not quitting, of course. I love my job at Speculative Grammarian. And none of what I said is true. Sadly an estimated 1.2 million copies of SpecGram really did disappear into the rumps of the linguistics-loving populace over a twelve-month span in 1888-1889.

The landfill mudslide incidents were all the fault of a former publisher, Theophrastus Philippus Aureolus Bombastus von Hohenheim XXIV, who had a weakness for funding struggling linguistics grad students by purchasing any less-than-choice property they owned. Needless to say, several real estate sharks teamed up with unscrupulous grad students (some were actually from English departments, no less!) and took advantage of Theophrastus during the rainy season.

There have been four major fires in the history of Speculative Grammarian. The first was during the Great Chicago Fire in 1871. The SpecGram offices were located at the outskirts of the devastated area. By chance, the fire petered out while burning through our building. Because of a badly worded clause in an insurance policy, and the unbending will of an insurance claims adjuster, the offices were declared 7/16 destroyed, which--being less than half--was not covered by the policy. In a fit of black humor, the incident has been known to the SpecGram inner circle as the 7/16 Fire ever since.

It all makes sense. It is all true. Even the seemingly contradictory bits. Every word is true.

There is no spoon.

Letters to the Editor
SpecGram Vol CL, No 2 Contents