Thursday, December 23, 2010

Dear Albrecht: II

Albrecht Soothspitz (b.1327)
Bottom line is, Albrecht happens to love both mulled wine and wassail. Go figure. The number of letters pouring in to "Dear Albrecht" is overwhelming, but Albrecht is doing his best. What with his being pretty drunk most of the time (we've been heating wassail and mulled wine in vats for him) and coupled with the fact that he answers his mail in calligraphy on skin pages and then makes me type things onto the blog, he can only answer a few at a time, but he is doing his best, so please show some Christmas patience. Anyway, this week's letters:



Dear Albrecht:

My sister -- we'll call her "Promiscuous Bitch" -- is a bit of a loose cannon in our family. She has always had a problem controlling her passions, but, recently, she crossed the line. At a family gathering I held in my house, she tried to seduce my husband. Well -- actually, she succeeded. I know this because the tree didn't hide them quite as well as they thought it did. I thought my aunt, Alma, was going to choke on her cider. Anyway, how should I handle this? We all act like nothing happened, but I am about to flip.

Signed,
MISTLETOE, MY FOOT!


Dear Mistletoe:

There are several ways you could proceed on this one. The first option is, you could purchase a better quality tree for next year. Let me suggest the Leyland Cypress which is thick and lush for blocking out undesirable visuals and will also serve as a sound-barrier for whatever lascivious noises might emanate from the lungs of strumpets and rakes at their double-backed beast-making. Or, you could throw your sister in the stocks on Christmas eve, naked, and let her endure the icy consequences of her whorishness. Stocks can be built rather cheaply and, if properly carved and gilded, they make a handsome addition to your front lawn.

Albrecht.
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Dear Albrecht:

I live in an apartment complex with very thin walls. The guy who lives next door to me plays Dungeons and Dragons with his friends at least three times a week, each night until four or five in the morning. All night long I am kept awake by their conjuring, dice-rolling and battle-cries. One night, I knocked to ask them to be quiet, but a guy in a robe with a pointed wizard's cap answered and just said "BEGONE!" and slammed the door. Should I call the police?

Signed,
CAUGHT IN A SPELL

Dear Caught:

Police? For God's sake, man, call a priest! Dungeons and dragons are both ill omens. Sounds like you are being encroached upon by a nefarious coven of black magicians. I remember, in the summer of 1357, when my brother Ruprecht was transformed into a newt by the necromancy of a hag who dwelt in the hills outside of Stankburgen  . . . no  . . . the memory is too vivid . . . Call a priest, immediately.

Albrecht.
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Dear Albrecht:

I am a regular church-goer. I have a real problem every time we get to the "sign of peace." During cold season, it is unwise to shake hands with others. I'm afraid I will get sick. Is there a polite way to refuse to shake someone's hand in church?

Signed,
GERMFEARING

Dear Germfearing:

I have one word for you, you coward: plague. Ever hear of it? I lost six siblings and my uncle, Gerhard, to it. You think maybe you can deal with the sniffles in the interest of communing with your fellow worshippers? -- or buy a 99-cent bottle of hand sanitizer to use after? I ought to take you back to the Middle Ages with me and make you lick a couple of lepers. Toughen up and stop making excuses for your anti-social, selfish nature.

Albrecht.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Albrecht:

What is your favorite Christmas album?

Signed,
CURIOUS

Dear Curious:

My what?

Albrecht.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Albrecht:

I'm sick of all of the commercialism of Christmas. People need to put Christ back in Christmas. My heart is made sick by the cold materialism around me. What are your thoughts?

Signed,
SANTA HATER

Dear Santa Hater:

Chris is getting me something called an Nintendo Wii for the Yule celebration and I'm pretty excited. Apparently it is form of magical entertainment -- something about baubles moving when you wave your arms. I also understand there is something called a "Snuggie" that I am getting to keep me warm in my hermitage, along with an automatic tea-maker. And new quills. I love the focused scratch of a new quill. I'm sorry -- what was the question? Uh -- no time now. I have to be off to daily mass.

Albrecht.
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Dear Albrecht:

I am nine years old. I am afraid Santa will only bring me coal, because I am sometimes bad. Can you help me?

Signed,
Jack

Dear Jack:

I'm sure you haven't been that bad. But maybe a way to be sure Father Christmas will be kind to you might be to ask him for coal. When I was a boy, the winters in Stankburgen were frigid. The only thing I ever asked Father Christmas for was coal so that my parents and my brothers and sisters could stay warm. You know, every year, he brought coal but he also brought the most interesting little elf-wrought toys . . .

Merry Christmas, Jack.

Albrecht.

2 comments:

  1. Dear Ablrecht,
    I just read your questions and answers. I was very pleased to see your views. I have a son who sounds just like you! I thought he was not well! After reading your views I now feel a little better.

    He asked me about "The Christmas Pistachio"? I told him the tradition of "The Christmas Pistachio"

    Once apon a time in Italy, long ago...a child was eating walnuts on Christmas Eve. These were his favorit snack, especially on Christmas Eve. Anywasy he started to choke on the nut!!!! Everyone around him didn't know whaat to do...except his great Grandmother. She rushed to the kitchen and grabed a burlap bag full on pistachios. She ran back into the polor and told everyone to get out of her way. Ran over to the boy and made him sit on the floor and then......slamded him on the back with the burlap bag full of pistachios! All of a suddent the walnut flew out of the boy's mouth and on to the floor! He was saved by the bag of pistachios!! Of course if it weren't for his Grandmother being there and knowing the remedy he wouldn't be alive to talk about it!

    So now you can see the tridition of the "Christmas Pistachio". As long as there are children there will always be the "Christmas Pistachio" present!!!!

    Unknown

    ReplyDelete
  2. Dear Anonymous Unknown -- Albrecht appreciates the comment. H has now demanded that I go out and buy him a seven-pound bag of pistachios.

    ReplyDelete