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Special deliveries of cryptic messages to persons known and unknown because I'm too damn busy to catch up with you individually right now:
Beer-D: upon reacquainting myself with a Shostakovich favorite this evening for the first time in over 40 years, I discovered that this composer was the father of Klingon opera.
Anna: I didn't recognize your voice in comments at first, but if you know of Fonzo Serbo then contact me through regular channels. I would be happy to hear from you.
Helm**6: started writing you a note, but thanks first for the one you sent. The story sounds fairly normal to me, actually.
Gurlitzer: I know the blog has sucked and been neglected for a long time, but I was getting concerned that you hadn't shown up in comments lately. Guess everything is OK and I just need to write something interesting once in a while.
Mr. Summers, Class of 1970: good to meet you last month. Somewhat startlingly, I can't find a single hit on Google or Duck with the name of our college and "ACME" or "hundt". Two decades of our alma mater seems destined to swirl down the memory hole.
Little Oscar: Happy birthday! "Take an Indian to lunch this week!" (It's not the precise Stan Freberg reference for the occasion, but it's an appropriate one.)
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