Transcribed below. By special request of our correspondent Daniel, this one is written with a 1968 Royal Safari, which deploys the awesome power of registered-trademarked technology: Magic Margins^®, Twin Pak^® ribbons, Touch Control^®, and, instead of a tabulator, Magic Columns^®. What is the difference between a keyset tabulator and Magic Columns? Magic, of course! Otherwise nothing.

Sir:

It grieves me that I should be forced to write these words to you. My duty is not light, but I will stand and face it like a man. In times of crisis, I do what I can to make the land I love a better place, though sometimes I would rather hide my face.

I will attempt to keep my comments brief, since doubtless many readers share my grief, and making extra effort to embellish simple thoughts is something I don’t relish.

When I first heard that poetry was found among your pages, I of course was bound to feel dismay. It could not be the truth! You surely could not be corrupting youth! Yet, on investigation, it has proved to be the case. I must say I was moved to tears—to manly tears of rage, I mean. I hardly could believe the things I’d seen! There in plain sight were lines that rhyme and scan. What do you hope to gain? What is your plan? What will you win by poisoning young minds? Surely you must have known the child who finds a limerick will go on to a sonnet. And once his brain has rhymes and meters on it, why, there’s no telling where he might go next! I hope you understand why I’m so vexed.

Well, I, for one, will not stand idly by. I hate to be so blunt, but this is why we have asylums. I have placed a call to Western Psych, and I have told them all. They asked for my address, and I assume that, when the men in white coats reach my room, they’ll have me lead them to your operation. Mine is, you see, no idle indignation.

—Sincerely, Mark Tarfield, Penn Avenue, Garfield.