So, you’ve decided to do your own research—I think that’s just terrific! On an unrelated note, here are the fourteen modes of communication I’d prefer to try before meeting with you face-to-face.
First, send an email. My address is 2012gangnamstyle4life@gmail. Regrettably, I’m somewhat behind on my emails and ask that you wait fourteen non-business days before following up.
The next step would be to send a text message to (555) 867-5309. My policy is to never respond to texts however, so this is more or less subterfuge. (As you can see the number is fake.)
At this point you might think a call is in order but you (and many other knuckle-draggers like you) would be wrong. First try Messenger, LinkedIn, Slack, WhatsApp and Myspace, though I don’t remember my sign-in info and don’t feel like resetting my passwords.
When you do ring me, keep in mind I’m currently working painstakingly on the website for my blog and am screening all calls, so don’t expect an answer.
On my voicemail relate the details for a Zoom. Schedule this for four months from the day on the night of the nearest waxing crescent moon. Don’t be surprised to find my screen black as I always Zoom in the pitch dark.
After I don’t show for the Zoom try me by smoke signal, preferably with billowy white smoke from a fire of pine needles. In addition to, and in conjunction with, the smoke signal, send a carrier pigeon. Attach a fortune-cookie-sized message to the bird’s ankle or appropriate appendage. (Note: normal city pigeons don’t know where I live and won’t come through.)
If you receive neither a return smoke signal nor my responding pigeon within 72 hours, go to the top of your building, or to the peak of the small mountain on the outskirts of town, and use flag semaphore. I have a guy that watches out for this.
Please use brightly colored flags and be vigorous with the motions of the flags as the manner of every gesture will be noted. I myself don’t own flags and will respond only with either a thumbs up or a middle finger. Have binoculars on hand in order to see which I hold up.
A middle finger would mean what it always means and I’m not sorry.
If you get a thumbs up, go to a museum and find a telegraph machine from the 1870s, specifically a Browning Repeating Sounder, and send a telegram.
Keep it brief—stop.
Remember each letter costs a nickel—stop.
With word choice—stop.
If it’s too annoying—stop.
Stop trying to contact me—stop.
If by the end of the day you don’t receive a witty reply with several unnecessary “stops,” resort to snail mail.
In composing your letter, form well-crafted paragraphs of three or four sentences and write in cursive with a loopy, flowery hand as I like the aesthetic of an antiquated feminine touch. A spray of perfume and a cherry red lipstick kiss wouldn’t kill you.
Unfortunately, I ran out of Forever Stamps ages ago and won’t respond by mail unless you send a care package with stamps, envelopes, paper, ink, an inkwell and a quill made from a peacock feather or bird with similarly resplendent plumage.
Other than these fourteen tried-and-true methods, I don’t know what to tell you. I’m practically bending over backwards here. I guess if you’re still adamant and really feel I need to hear what you have to say, get in touch with my assistant’s assistant.
Once you fax the necessary forms to Tim, Diane will arrange a conference call so the three of us can get on the horn and pencil in a fifteen-minute coffee date at the Starbucks near my house.
I’ll be the one wearing a mask and a face shield like a police officer in full riot gear.
Hoping you’re well. Kind regards, et cetera et cetera.