The Collection Plate

Gentle visitors, many of you who have happened upon these hollowed pages -- as one might stray into a darkened alley on the wrong side of town in the dead of night and, thereupon, begin a desparate search for a quick and safe exit -- many of you have inquired whether we have some means of accepting donations.  One characteristic request follows: 

"Dear Sirs, 

If I paid you, would you stop?

[name withheld]"

Evident here is a desire to contribute to your humble Contributors' cause, but coupled with a concern  -- nay, almost a childlike feear -- that we would take such offense at pay as to set down our digital quills forever.

It is true that our policy has been to turn down, graciously, all gratuities -- thankfully a policy that has not been put to any trial, thus far.  If we had a motto, it should have been "ars gratia ars", had it not already been copyrighted by an outfit who has made a great deal of money from it;  it being apparent that the writings Hereunder have little value as education, edification, or entertainment; and, us being gentlemen artists, we hold, with Shelley, that these pages are the record of the "best and happiest moments of the happiest and best minds."  In short, for the happiest and best, scribbling is its own reward.

Yet, we have ever been solicitous of our visitors, and, therefore, we have extended a virtual collection plate on the side bar.  If our guest are so moved to leave a shilling or two, or even a haypenny -- why, then, we have set out a computative cup to catch these figurative coins.  The season of Lent is  almost upon us, with it's tradition of penance and almsgiving -- your visitation hereunder is, in itself, a penance, and the alms would simply add to the awful mortification of it all.  You will note that our theme for this initiative is  "Give... Until It Hurts" -- anticipating, as we always do, a rather high pain threshold among our guests.

Thus, gentle visitors, we find ourselves in a veritable win-win posture:  on the one hand, if you give us nothing, then we will be gratified to know that you regard these jottings as invaluable, incalculable, priceless; on the other hand -- and, again, our hand is out -- if you shower us with numismatic bliss, you will be gratified to know that you are supporting us in our various vices and unhealthful habits, which, through a marvelous  and as yet unexplained alchemy, yield the thoughtful thoughts here inscribed from time to time.   

In either case, we will accept your appraisal as the happiest and best accept feast or famine: with equanimity or with mirth, with a relatively broadening or narrowing girth, and with the continuing commitment to post.

Comments

[Ned]

A brilliant idea, either poor but affirmed or rich and without care. I have never held hope that I might ever be paid to write, but to be paid not to write has possibilities. I might start with something I am sure I can get more people to back, such as the "Stop Ned from Talking" fund or the "Stop Ned from Commenting" organization. I must give this more thought, I am annoying enough to become filthy rich! And no one thought I would amount to anything. Ha!

[Gone Away]

If a herring and a half costs three haypence, how much does a herring cost? Not until you have answered this deep and philosophical question am I prepared to seek out the touted donations facility.

[Remainderman]

Ned & Gone Away --

You are both, of course, perpetually exempt from this suggestion of donation, by virtue of your longstanding & invaluable support of us, humble, poor, starving, garrett-dwelling Contributors.

[Ned]

You have a garrett? Oh man, I would kill for a garrett. I thought I was doing great when I beat out that bag lady for the gutter. Wow, a garrett.

[Remainderman]

You're right -- a garret is a bit toney and upscale these days.

FOR RENT: Northshore studio garrett. Nice. $2500 a month.

[Gone Away]

.oO(I notice all shy away from my question. And I thought I had chanced upon one of the dwindling few who understand just what a haypence is. You may call me a cockeyed optimist...)

[Remainderman]

Gone Away --

Your math problem challenges the Anglo-challenged. But, I would venture that, on your facts, a herring would set one back a pence.

[Gone Away]

And you, sir, would be right! True learning is not dead, it seems.

[Remainderman]

That would appear to be a red herring (still one pence a piece, though).