This shot captures the intensity and horror of the whole thing better. There is some sort of cosmic significance, Erni. Simba is a Llasa Apso - yes, the sacred Tibetan dogs who were, I believe, the guardians of the temple. You might understand the significance of it. And then Erni, in an attempt to clean up this disaster, without my knowledge - because you know I would have used all my earthly powers to stop it - your mail-art was thrown in the trash. This was destined for a landfill, not really a landfill, but gigantic heaps of trash that now rise out of the landscape like mountains. You can truly see them from miles away. Day and night, trucks carry garbage from New York City and New Jersey Upstate. So your mail-art was destined to become an artifact among the debris of The City. But I did manage to rescue it. It's not looking too good. I'm not sure how to handle this archival challenge. This just, I don't know, really sad:
Can you suggest a punishment for destroying mail-art? As I'm always saying about someone: "Now what do I do with her?" I certainly think you deserve justice and reparation. I ask myself always, "Was it me? Was it my fault?" Then I say: This is mail-art. It's dog-eat-dog. You can't take it personally. No one said it was going to be easy. You pick yourself up and brush yourself off. Because you're always just one postcard away from a little south of nowhere in this biz, kid. You say: "Don't you remember two weeks ago when I..." And they come back faster with: "Sure, but what have you done for me lately." Dylan always has a line for profound times like these: "Don't look back."