Undoubtedly, Dr. Howard Croakman had a proverbial stick up his non-proverbial hind-quarters. Defying convention and the phrase “..can no longer be considered…” I drafted a rebuttal with a self-imposed deadline of 2:22 AM to show the Board of Editors that I waste no time when it comes to re-butting buttheads.
Dear JONDE Editors, Colleagues, Janitorial Staff, and Howard,
Hope this letter finds you well (or quickly on the mend from any illness you may be suffering). While I appreciate your speedy response, I must contest a few points.
- In the spirit of honesty, I should say I have no graduate degree, so please call me mister or sir, as “doctor” would be presumptuous and possibly offensive to those academically certified to help others.
- As a follow-up to Point #1, my last name is spelled O-R-A-B-I and not O-B-A-B-I. Geneticists call such errors a base substitution, which (when occurring in nature) may or may not result in a mutant protein. If done on purpose, I find this provoking as both an Orabi and an amateur geneticist. Nevertheless, I thought I would make you aware of the error, as I take spelling seriously (especially when it pertains to my surname).
- Despite academic convention, the capitalization of titles such as “Editorial Board” should only occur at the first reference of such a title. Subsequent usage should therefore be lowercase, as not to rub said title in the face of the reader. Strunk and White’s “Elements of Style” call such usage “bunk.”
- The question of my nearness to death on the night of October 1, 2016 is unquestionable. As described in the manuscript, my experiences on that night are consistent with previous reports of those who nearly bought the farm. The fact that this experience occurred during a diminished state of consciousness, is irrelevant. Upon removal of my Sphincter of Oddi (by an unknown surgeon), lights became unbearably bright, and choir voices began singing in, what I believe was, the key of F major. My body began levitating towards an empty tunnel, much like the Liberty tunnels of Pittsburgh, PA (before the renovation). On the other end, a voice asked me if I had any questions, to which I said “Can I speak with George Harrison?” to which the lights dimmed and I began falling back from whence I came, to which I thought my question had angered someone and they decided I should go the other way, to which I woke up to the sound of garbage trucks. I can assure you this experience is my own and unabridged. Suggesting that my testimony is invalid because I was catching Z’s is downright crooked. With all due respect good sir, you wouldn’t know death if it smacked you in the face.
- The Sphincter of Oddi is among the most critical (and unpublicized) sphincters in all of human anatomy. Its removal would most certainly result in death or, at the very least, a tumultuous relationship with food. Despite what metabolomics geeks will tell you, a Sphincter of Oddi-less body will cease to exist.
With that, I would kindly ask that you reconsider this submission, as my mother’s refrigerator magnets have been without purpose for the last 12 years, and she could really use the boost.
Jack of all trades
Master of none
P.S. 4,352 is hardly an approximation, but rather an exact number.
The e-mail was sent at 2:21 AM which was extremely annoying because the JONDE e-mail was received at 2:22 PM (eleven hours and 59 minutes prior), which is far less affective than twelve hours and zero minutes. Apparently, my digital wrist watch was out-of-sync with my computer, which made me question the whole notion of time and absolutes, which was even more annoying because I’d done that once before and woken up with a blistering headache.
Photo Credit: Eli Christman from Richmond, VA, USA – Birkenstocks with Candy Corn Socks, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=48489303