Tag Archives: Kalashnikov

Happy Birthday Ken

Ken.

I am writing to you from a secure and secret place, safe from the hacking of the Russians. Yes, it is true, I have found a way to avoid them. The Russians, I mean, and their hacking, I mean. I have found a way to foil entirely their machinations, a quite clever and, I might even say, diabolical way.

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Kalashnikov’s Umbrella

Today, it rains. Today I must go out. When I say I must go out, I mean to say that the choice to go out is not mine, or not mine alone, for there are external forces which compel me to rise from my bed and to venture into the world, against my will. My will! How absurd it sounds when I put it that way, as if I had a definite will and not rather a velleity. And against this will, this velleity, the many forces, some external but others perhaps not. Forces, that is precisely the word. And external, also the precise word. For everyone understands what is meant by a force, and also by an external. Were it not for these, I would stay in today, as I would stay in every day, if left to my own devices.

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