Sir: Our public servants, it is universally agreed, are the servants of the public. I believe that notion is implied by the very meaning of the words “public servant.” Why, then, have the bureaucrats in the Port Authority steadfastly refused to grant my ideas more than a cursory dismissal? Am I not a member of the public? Are not my transportation needs as pressing as the next man’s? Is there any earthly reason why the Red Line streetcar should not be diverted to No. 1532 Breckenridge Avenue? The route would be lengthened by less than four blocks round trip, and the economic benefits would extend not only to No. 1532, but to No. 1530 and No. 1534 as well. It is even conceivable that Nos. 1529, 1531, and 1533 would benefit similarly, although I have not personally crossed the street to raise the question myself, since I have reason to believe that No. 1533 is inhabited by a West Frisian terrorist cell. Yet the worthless layabouts in the Port Authority will not lift a finger to lay a mere quarter mile of track. This is why I have not been out of the house since 1982.

W. Wenceslaus Kilter,


  1. Honoria Glossop says:

    My Dear Dr. Boli,

    I must ask you a question regarding the heart. What would you advise me to do if I told you that this utter squirt had taken an unshakable fancy to me? Even his name is dreadful. Once I even heard him say my laugh sounded like a freight train. He even calls my estimable father, a psychiatrist, a “loony” doctor, which I find most disturbing. Please tell me what to do, Dr. Boli, I hang upon every word that you write or say!

    Honorable Honoria Glossop

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