Ask Mr. Apple......

As you might imagine, a world famous blog like AOA (Apples over America) generates a lot of email from our millions of readers worldwide. Some people write to register their opinion about a topic we've written about, some to argue with an official position the editorial board has put forward, still others write simply to tell us they've enjoyed reading and discussing AOA with their friends and family. But every once in a while a reader writes us asking for advice in dealing with important life issues. As publisher, founder, and spiritual leader of AOA I want to assure you that I read each and every one of your emails. Yes, I pore over the words and stroke my beard solemnly, pondering your boring and minor problems before deleting them unceremoniously from my inbox like the worthless digital detritus they are.

At least that's how it used to be. But today all that changes! For today, the AOA board of Governors and I are pleased to introduce a new feature to Apples Over America - "Ask Mr. Apple". Now, you have the opportunity to ask me questions and get real answers from either myself or one of my interns posing as me! Learn from me children. I am here to teach you.


Dear Mr. Apple,

Yesterday at my local Whole Foods retailer, I was shopping for organic vitamin pills and bean sprouts when I noticed a most attractive young lady browsing the reusable hemp facial tissue one aisle over. I quickly smoothed my hair, adjusted my suit jacket, and went over to introduce myself. Mr. Apple, this lovely creature was as charming and interesting as she was beautiful, and soon I was laughing, reciting poems I'd written, and humming folk songs to her right there in the nappy aisle! It turns out we both share an interest in Contra Dancing, and so I suggested she might like to attend a monthly dance session I have been frequenting. She cast down her eyes shyly and expressed reservations. "Aha! Well played my little flower", I thought to myself, "but methinks the lady doth protest too much." In my experience, the dance of love is filled with feints, dodges, parries, thrusts, and the occasional accidental stabbing, so her initially cool reaction was hardly enough to discourage me. I threw caution to the wind and shrewdly pressed the issue until such time as she provided me with her cellular phone number. Unfortunately, when I tried to call her I found that the number did not exist. She must have made a transcription error when she wrote it down on the back of the PETA pamphlet I provided her. Mr. Apple, I'm devastated. I feel like my one chance at true love has come and gone. What should I do?

Sincerely,
A dirty hippie



Dear dirty hippie,

Clearly this poor girl gave you a fake number just to get you to go away. No one could love a worthless hippie like you. Ha ha!! Just kidding my friend! What actually happened here is exactly what you suspect, a simple transcription error. Your fatal mistake was getting her to write down the number on a PETA pamphlet. Surely her hand was trembling and her eyes were misting over with tears at the sight of the poor little furry creatures being slaughtered for clothing, and eaten in burgers, roasts, stir fries, and processed nugget form. Thus incapacitated by grief, how could she not make an error or two when writing out the number? I suggest a two-pronged approach to your problem:

1. Make up posters with her picture on it (hand-drawn from memory) and post them around Cambridge on telephone poles and street lights. Offer a reward for any information about your love's location.
2. Camp outside of the Whole Foods every day until she returns. Surprise her in the same aisle where you met for the first time, kiss her, and tell her the lengths you went to to find her. She will be so impressed with your romantic gesture that you'll be in for sure.

This plan is foolproof. Thank me later, son.
Yours,
Mr. Apple