The Assemblagist

As part of the Col­bert Nation, I’m obvi­ously a speed skat­ing fan. But a new nation is begin­ning to form, an anony­mous nation filled with ephemera and ink — the Richard Canard Nation. It’s no Illu­sion. Canard is spread­ing his invi­ta­tions to cit­i­zen­ship through­out the world-​wide real, not the world wide web.

IUOMA cit­i­zens rejoice. Mr. Canard accepts all nation­al­i­ties to his nation.

Seri­ously folks, those who live in the Ass End of Some Great Dis­mal Swamp truly appre­ci­ate the pit­ter pat­ter of lit­tle mail­men feet on the front porch. And Mail MAN (eg MEN) is appro­pri­ate here on account of the Mail Woman, Mag­gie, deliv­ers to the neigh­bor­hood just north of here. We have the Men of the His­toric Dis­trict deposit­ing Mr. Canard’s canards into our boxes. Mail Art gen­er­ates much joy when it is in the hands of our mail MEN. The POst­CarD ARt deliv­ers a mes­sage to those who carry it as well as those who receive it.

Thanks to Mr. Canard AND of course to my dear Kate­rina Nikolt­sou in Greece, and to all the other ships at sea, for my cards and let­ters. I feel as if the out­side world is lis­ten­ing and … shh­h­h­h­hhh .… I hear the cries of stamps, the For­ever Stamps, in my desk drawer, beseech­ing me to MAIL MAIL MAIL.

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