Concentrate of Thailand

Feeling misunderstood on an international level, Thailand felt they needed to promote an awareness of their customs and culture. Unfortunately, with the global economic downturn, they lacked the resources to do a full on world wide public relations effort. What they lacked in wealth, however, they made up for in two things: top notch researchers and pineapples. Through careful crop breeding and flavor manipulation, they distilled all that they felt it meant to be Thai and genetically encoded the taste of Thailand into their world famous pineapples.

When bottles appeared on store shelves and in kitchen pantries across the world, no one noticed. Not until the cracked open the safety seal and took that first sip of the nation's new pineapple juice did they notice the new flavor contained within. Like the nation's Buddhist past, the juice was a perfectly balanced blend of flavors with no one part overpowering another. Their taste buds danced to “Phleng Chat Thai,” and they savored the flavor of sixty-six million people with a GDP per capita of $9396. Mingling with the rich sweetness was the taste of tropical forests, green fields, and towering mountains. It tasted not of rice, but a thriving rice industry, and a culture deeply enriched by its agrarian roots. Though the pulp had been removed, the juice still had hints of respect toward one's ancestors and elders, and a strong spirit of generosity. It packed the energy of soccer and muai thai with the tranquility appropriate to the golf capital of Asia. Those who drank the juice felt a certain kinship for the small nation that they had not known before. True to the country's hopes, appreciation for Thailand blossomed in markets where the juice could be purchased. The effect was short lived, however, as people soon stopped purchasing the bottles. Though the experience was pleasant, former customers said, the juice didn't taste much like pineapples.

- Originally mailed to M. Blackwood of Los Angeles, California

Invisible Exits

Many people carried a very ill opinion of the owners of the Cornerstreet Cafe. They thought they were manipulative imprisoners of their clientèle. People who attended their establishment often felt trapped, like they were being held in the restaurant against their will. They would complain about being barred from the exits by iron fences or bathroom signs on a blank wall.

The owner and former magician Mister Santos Lizanne did this deliberately, but not the way people imagine. People said he put signs up where there was nothing, or made certain parts of his cafe impossible to reach. This was utterly false. However, through clever use of paint and lighting and forced perspective, he made the way appear blocked. He felt too many people in the world lacked faith in humanity and trust in each other. They had grown cold and distant and clung to the words taught at childhood, “stranger danger.” So he used optical illusions to show them that they could trust people. That if the sign said there was a way out, you could believe that there was a way out, even if you could not see it.

Mister Lizanne was a man of his word, but you just had to trust him on it.

- Originally mailed to D. Murphey from Ocean Springs, MS

Unfortunate Appearances

On Regulus IV there exists a strain of hypersentient fungus who learned to live in peace with all their world. No longer did they have any predators and they bred only when resources were sufficient. They were experts in all sciences and mathematics and philosophy and had long ago diagnosed the nature of evil and purged it from their world. Their language, however, was a subtle one, full of shades of meaning, shades of color, pheromones, and timing. Few civilizations ever reach such states of enlightenment and sophistication. Unfortunately, the first men to land on Regulus IV never learned the language because they never considered a fungus could be sentient. As a result, on official records from then on, this amazing race was listed fungus phallus, the penis mushroom.

- Originally mailed to H. Longino from Gulfport, Mississippi

Nonviolent Kidnappers

Jillian Wabash was kidnapped and held for ransom in 1996 by a sect of pacifist Buddhist monks. The monks, who had seen a great many ransoms in movies, knew they had to send some part of their hostage to prove to her parents that they were serious. Unfortunately, being non-violent by nature, the Buddhists could only bring themselves to cut off the child's hair. When her parents received the package containing a lock of hair and a note made of letters cut from magazines which read

“Dear sir and madam, we have your daughter and are taking excellent care of her, ensuring she receives three healthy meals a day, a warm bed, plenty of exercise, and proper education while she is in our custody. If we receive three million dollars in unmarked bills, we promise we will not harm another hair on her head. We apologize for the hairs we have already harmed, but we wish to assure you they will grow back and that for the time being, we have shaped her hair into a fashion that is stylish and esteem raising while still allowing her to learn that style is but wind, full of force but no substance and the esteem of others is but an illusionary boulder on the path to enlightenment. You may leave the money behind the dumpster at McDonalds on Washington Avenue.”

The Wabash family, after careful consideration, determined the monks would probably be able to do a better job raising their daughter than they could, and so for the next ten years, they politely replied to each new delivery of a lock of hair, “Thank you, but we do not have the money at this time. We appreciate you looking after our child in the meantime.”

- Originally mailed to T. Danley in New Orleans, Louisiana