Recently, in 2311, archaeologists discovered this ancient letter from the early 21st century. Happily, our ingenious biblical scholars have been able to isolate the various redactional layers of this letter.
| Jan. 14, 2018
Dear Harry, { This name is currently unattested in the 21st century and should be understood allegorically with reference to the recipient’s hair length}
I regret {inconsistent with the narratorial voice, this was added by the 2nd redactor} that we cannot {polite addition by 2nd redactor} grant your requested extension {21st-century writers applied “extension” to added fake hair, obviously the original subject of this correspondence}. You should be aware {3rd redactional layer} that you should apply {allusion to a hair-cutting appliance} for extensions before the deadline {note etymological root “dead,” subtly threatening penalties if hair is not cut}, as clearly {3rd redactor, wrongly thinking hair color at issue} specified both in the syllabus and in the student handbook {2nd redactor; no original author would include two prepositional phrases}. If I may step aside from the usual professional language for a moment, applying for an extension six weeks after the close of the semester is irresponsible behavior characteristic only of immature, preadolescent {2nd redactor, who thinks the recipient too young to grow hair}, whining brats. Are you aware that our institution {3rd redactor envisions here a barbershop} provides basic counseling services at no cost to the student? I strongly encourage you to take advantage of this opportunity, and also, if your counselor so advises, to check yourself into a psychiatric institution. {3rd redactor, wrongly thinking barber scissors cause brain damage} Sincerely, Your Advisor {3rd redactor, alluding to helmet visors, which can prevent brain damage}
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