To the editors of the Wall Street Journal:
I am a long-time subscriber to your fine periodical. Each morning as I rush out the door to the class that I am five minutes late to, I am greeted by your illustrious newspaper on my doorstep. The sight fills me with a profound sense of shame, shame at my utter failure to adhere to my plan of waking up an hour earlier each morning to skim your paper's headlines. This, however, is entirely a failure on my part, and in no way reflects upon the quality of your journalism. On the infrequent occasions when I have the chance to glance through the Journal, typically on weekends, I am quite pleased by the content. Moreover, I have found other, highly valuable uses to which to put the paper.
It is often remarked, on the subject of the timeliness of newspapers, that today they provide news, tomorrow they provide fishwrap. Given my current dietary restrictions, this adage is not literally true in my case. I have, however, discovered that the Wall Street Journal is excellent for pressing tofu. As you are no doubt aware, tofu must be well-pressed in order to maximize its flavor when marinaded. The curd of the soy bean has very high natural absorption, but in order to make room for whatever flavorful marinades one wishes to fill the tofu with one must first expunge as much water as possible. This is usually accomplished by placing some sort of towel or cloth beneath the tofu, another cloth above it, and some heavy object on top of that. The tofu is then left to slowly expunge its fluids over the course of about an hour. The trouble with this method is that it leaves one with towels that are soaked in tofu juice. The towels must be washed quickly or the tofu juice will dry, imbuing the towels with a rather unfortunate odor. Omitting the towels just leaves one's counters covered in tofu juice.
It is here where the Wall Street Journal has proven my savant. I take the first two sections, fold them in quarters and place them under the tofu, and after dealing with the second two sections in a similar manner place them above the tofu and below the heavy object. An hour later I am the proud owner of a bone-dry square of tofu, a clean counter, and a soggy Wall Street Journal, which is soon placed in the recycle bin in the hall. My tofu pressing problems are solved.
For the most part. It has come to my attention that tofu possesses certain properties not unlike Silly Putty. I learned this one afternoon when I was chopping up tofu to grill and found myself confronted with a story on the current Hewlett Packard spying scandal, pressed across the broad side of my bean curd. This, you can imagine, has caused me some concern.
I am writing to request that you modify your printers to use a non-toxic ink, the better to assure that I am not poisoning myself when I press my tofu with your paper. Failing that, I would request that you switch to an ink possessed of a more pleasing taste; the one that you currently use has been conferring a slightly bitter, tinny flavor to my tofu. I am, as mentioned, a great fan of your periodical, and would hate to be forced to switch papers over a problem so easily resolved as this one. If, however, you fail to rectify your current ink problems, I may have no choice but to cancel my subscription and start purchasing the New York Times.
Yours, etc.,
Phineas T. Bumbershoot, Esq.
