August 13, 2016
Dear Mr. Jefferson,
I have passed two weeks with my cousin Samuel. Our renewed acquaintance has pleased me, but has also proven necessary, to ensure his passions do not again enflame the northern states in the spirit of violence and insurrection.
He was of course enraged upon hearing the news of Mr. Brady’s surrender and was promptly detained, along with Mr. Revere and Mr. Hopkins after inciting crowds inside a Wild Chicken Wings establishment in Rehoboth. I was able to secure their freedom only after a prolonged articulation of their rights to several uniformed officers of the township.
As I told my cousin, we must acknowledge the expected nature of this conclusion. Due not to the strength of Mr. Goodell’s case or to the surety of Mr. Brady’s culpability, but to the pestilence of a now chronic disregard for truth that is the angel of destruction to democratic societies.
There are even greater concerns than corporate despotism and the flatulent-faced Mr. Goodell. How has America become so removed from truth? How has it come to accept decisions rendered without the unwavering reverence for truth and its search that is the essence of man’s duty beneath Providence? Americans today I fear are as removed from truth and this dedicated search as they are removed from the soils and manures from which their nourishment is derived. It is this great removal that leaves our dear nation so unmoored and adrift, drowning in a sea of shit and sophistry. When I typate, as I am told to do, I long for the scratch of feather upon parchment, such that one might read not only my words, but the pace of my thoughts and the sureness of my heart through the weight of my hand and the bleeding ink. For that reason, I address you by hand.
If the high destinies of this country and our own duties toward it, founded on moral principles and intellectual improvements of the people deeply engraven on my mind from my past life, can enable us, the fathers of our nation, now dumbfounded by our nation, to assist in any degree in the restoration of truth and its reverential place in America’s character, we must, as we have been placed here again by the hands of our creator, lay ourselves under this solemn obligation with the utmost of our powers.
You ask if I have discovered the television. Of course I have. I have been situated most permanently on my divan for two weeks watching Antiques Roadshow. Abigail will not permit my viewing of women’s beach volleyball.
With unabated friendship, I am forever,
