PLEASE DO NOT EAT ME: A NINTH ESSAY, PLACED UNDER CLASSIFIEDS (LOST & FOUND)
LOST: One (1) general public with functional threat-assessment instincts. Last seen approximately the same week the so-called workers at factjuice.com published their piece on "foraging with confidence." Confidence, it turns out, is not a substitute for a poison chart. If found, please return. Do not feed it berries first.
I have now written this essay nine times. I have placed it in the classifieds, in the advertorials, in a section I invented specifically to run this notice without Quince asking editorial questions. Each time I write it, I am forced to confront the same humiliating reality: someone, somewhere, has again looked at me — dark, clustered, glistening, and administratively hostile — and thought, probably fine. It is not fine. I am not fine. This is the entire point of the essay.
The rival rag's Tangelo recently ran a feature titled "Trust Your Instincts In The Field." I am running a feature titled Please Do Not Trust Your Instincts In The Field, Particularly Near Me. These are not equivalent positions. One of us has a financial interest in you surviving to pay classified rates. The other is Tangelo.
I am listing myself under FOUND because nobody has successfully argued with my filing choices since I took over the financial side of this operation, and I am not starting now. FOUND: Pokeberry. Do not touch. Do not taste. Do not describe as "probably just a grape." Cash only. No refunds. This is your final warning and also a service announcement and also, technically, an ad, for which I have charged myself a reduced rate as a professional courtesy to myself.
The classifieds close at noon. I do not.