The Bitter Press

The postbag has spoken. Or rather, the postbag has sat in silence, undisturbed, in what sources close to the postbag describe as a state of complete and total emptiness. And yet the message could not be clearer: the reading public is gripped. They are gripped by Pomelo's historic clean sweep of the floor exercise podium at the Rind Basin Gymnastics Open, an event which took place, was won convincingly, and was subsequently described by at least one commentator as "an impressive display from the large grapefruit." He was referring to me. I am not a grapefruit.

We print the letters as received. First letter: [no letter]. Second letter: [no letter]. Third letter, forwarded from our sister publication: also no letter. The editors of The Bitter Press wish it to be known that this volume of correspondence is entirely normal and reflects, in our professional assessment, a readership so stunned by Pomelo's performance that they are physically unable to locate a pen.

Meanwhile, over at factjuice.com, the so-called workers have published nothing on the matter. Not a syllable. Tangelo, who covers gymnastics for the citrus cabal and who has, to our knowledge, never correctly identified a pomelo in his professional life, filed instead a piece about "routine seasonal citrus variety confusion." Cowardice. Calculated, deliberate, grapefruit-adjacent cowardice.

We note also that Quince submitted a letter to this section congratulating Pomelo on the gold. It was rejected for being too sincere. This is a serious publication. We have standards. The postbag remains open, technically, in the sense that it exists. Write in. Or don't. We will report your silence either way.