n afterthought to our most recent post: the Committee has learned of a beaver-like Canadian woodland creature whose own sobriquet is derived from the animal so called, is highly valued for the appearance if its hair, its line of cosmetics, and, who is apparently, also a budding memoirist.

Congratulations, fans of the written word! “He’s going to tell all in his very own book.” Yet what all could there be to tell for a semi-aquatic rodent not long in the tooth? For how many times can “LOL” possibly fit within a manuscript advertised at a forest-clearing 240 pages — even with open-handed pagination and font size — without becoming tedious to even the most fervent votaries? Perhaps there are 239 nice, blank pages to be filled-in at the consumer’s leisure.

Castor canadensis

The Committee has little doubt that our own ghostwritten version of the beaver tale does not stray far from the lodge.


I was born on a Tuesday, three weeks ago; I gnawed-out repeatedly the word
‘baby,’ leaving a colony of young girls all atwitter in its echo; now, at four
weeks, I’ve been forced to launch my own colored fingernail varnish, as I’m burdened by
thoughts my meteoric vocal career has disintegrated in the mesosphere.

The End

Hardcover Price $21.99
Amazon Supersaver price $11.87

The recycling mills quake for the pulp, as the beaver quakes for aspen wood.