Last week those of us here in the crowded, ink-stained and ivy-filled offices of the Primate Nooz received a letter so poignant, so trenchant, so filled with sagacity and insight, that we just had to stop what we were doing, take a few deep breaths and reflect upon its contents.  On further consideration, we decided to call an immediate staff meeting and read it out loud so that everyone could ponder its significance, not only for us here at the Nooz, but also for all of you out there, in towns like Cheesequake and Runnamuck, and in countries all over the world from Gabon and Jujube all the way to Bali-Bali.  So moved were we by what the letter contained that we determined right away to publish it in its entirety in the very next issue of the Nooz.
          The letter was of such length that it would have necessitated virtually a whole issue, but Nooz publisher Arnett Putney, III and executive editor Widen Lundale, Jr. were prepared on the spot to commit themselves to this unprecedented venture, and the lesser editors and staff functionaries and supernumeraries to a man declared their wholehearted support.  Extra rolls of paper, newsprint and felt-tips were ordered, vacations were cancelled, and Bunkie Lismore's impending wedding was postponed.  Even Quincey Brindle's elective surgery was rescheduled for later in the year so that the supply room could participate fully in this monumental effort.  All other projects were put on indefinite hold so that we could devote all our energies to the publication of this important document.
          Unfortunately, it appears that the letter was accidentally thrown out by a copy boy who had just been hired and who failed to realize what it was.  We were shocked and dismayed by this occurrence but there is nothing we can do about it now, so we have told Ms. Lismore to proceed with her wedding and Quincey with his surgery, and we have dusted off all our old features and will carry on with the next issue as originally planned.  C'est la vie.