Hello again. I am Kyria Abrahams — writer of many important books, one of which
has been published on purpose. My writing is very well respected and is often discussed among people who hold leadership positions at universities from which they cannot be fired without an enormous amount of paperwork.
Naturally, I would love to share some of this same said writing with you here. Unfortunately, it is currently housed on a variety of unsupported data storage mediums from the late 1990s, such as the Iomega Jaz cartridge and a minidisc formatted for a quantum computer (and honestly, where is anyone ever going to find a working Jaz drive?).
However, I assure you that my extensive body of work has been widely celebrated within the venerated marble halls of "academia." If you haven't been there, academia is easily accessible by train and is located in the Newport summer mansion of turn-of-the-century robber baron Gilbert von Manyhouses.
(Please note that due to recent structural renovations, academia has temporarily been moved to the Mirrored Ladies Ballroom, located next to the Marble Guest Loggia, directly behind the Children's Humidor. Film buffs may recognize the above photo of The Servant's Summer Parlour as the tasteful setting for the betrothal of Margaret and Tibby in Merchant Ivory's The Inevitable Undoing of Scones. We apologize for any inconvenience.)
Recently, the popular academic magazine Academia Monthly referred to my oeuvre as "very academic." These sentiments were later echoed by the highly respected Academic Journal of Academics, which dubbed my collected works "academically academic." Meanwhile, Ye Olde Yankee Academic harkened back to the comforts of feeding homemade cranberry jam to a basset hound. They simply called me "right nerdy."
Helped in no small part by these constant accolades from inside "academia", many now consider me as a type of modern-day Marilyn vos Savant, or even a latter-day Dear Abby. Perfect strangers write to me for guidance at times where they previously would have sought the worldly-wise advice of an elderly neighbor with no discernible facial expressions. I wholeheartedly support this type of action!
After all, what knowledge are we expected to gain from these so-called "experienced" octogenarian types? Every time I seek out the folksy wisdom of some weather-torn old timer, all I get in return is some unusable maxim like, "Never give a bottle of molasses to a Chinaman!" or instructions on how to hand-crank a Victrola while the Jerries blitz my laundry tub. Thanks but no thanks, Grandma.
Tomorrow, I'll answer several questions that I was most definitely asked by various strangers who have an excruciating amount of respect for my opinions. At that point, I will hopefully prove once and for all that old people have very little to offer society.