P O S T E D B Y A L B E R T
I still owe the Countess a reply to her recent proposal to repair the public image of nonprofits and foundations. I got this e-mail from her recently ...
Dearest Alyosha —
Have not heard from you in weeks. Why is this?
Uncle Sergei tells me you were hang gliding in western Pyrenees. I have told you, my little tapochki, of my dislike for Basque peoples. Very dull. I remember wanting to kill myself in Bilbao during demonstration of txinga erute in which unattractive men carry weights representing milk canisters. I know you are part Basque, but there are always exceptions, yes?
I write with some urgency. You have heard of my good friend Noël Godin? He is man who throws pies at self-important people lacking sense of humor— you have been one of his victims, perhaps. Just kidding, my little zaychik. Noël told New York Times his enemies are authority, depressing laws, return of moral order, and political power. You are little more than powerless drone with bad haircut, quite frankly, and I mean this only in nicest way.
Well, foolishly I told him about our little project and he is creating—how you say?—hit list for philanthropy. I suggest you quickly take up collection to buy yourself and your people a sense of humor.
Call me soon, dearest Alyosha. I’m going to South Beach with my new friend Paolo—he is one on the left. You can reach me at Delano Hotel.
— The Countess Apraxina