Authorities disclosed this week that they are investigating a series of letters sent from local officials to the leaders of the Islamic Republic of Iran. The authorities in charge of the probe, who did not reveal any identities because investigations are ongoing, said that their inquiries have focused on three letters. One was from an obscure highway department official, and it apparently informed the leadership of Iran that if they ever planned on driving vehicles on local roads and highways, they would be expected to obey all traffic laws, which would include keeping within speed limits and stopping for pedestrians in crosswalks. Another letter was sent from a local health department, official and it advised the Iranians that, should they choose to open a restaurant or snack bar in the department’s jurisdiction, they would need to comply with all relevant health laws and their businesses would be subject to routine inspections. A third letter, which authorities said seemed to be written by a child in crayon, informed the Iranian leadership that “the Big Red Truck is mine and you can’t play with it.” Initial reports suggest that the authors of the letters in question had somehow come to believe that it was now incumbent upon all official entities to inform the Iranians of how our legal system works. Investigations are ongoing.
A potential horror gave way to joy on Tuesday in Sag Harbor, as melting snows revealed a frozen banjoist on a Main Street bench. The banjoist had apparently last been seen picking and grinning on the same bench, as heavy snow fell several weeks earlier, before being completely buried in snow from passing plows. As temperatures rose on Tuesday and the snow melted, the banjoist once again became visible, encased in ice. Emergency personnel were summoned, and to everyone’s astonishment it was discovered that the banjoist was not dead but in a state of cryogenic suspended animation. Doctors advised that the banjoist be allowed to thaw slowly to prevent shock, and thus began a tense vigil—any false step could have proved fatal. Working in shifts, numerous brave volunteers attended to the banjoist as he slowly unfroze, while onlookers watched from behind a police cordon. At 7:35 p.m., a terrified gasp went through the crowd, as the banjoist suddenly started, as if awoken from a deep sleep. Mothers clutched their children, and grown men looked away. Cries of horror gave way to sighs of relief, however, when the banjoist went to resume playing only to find that his banjo was damaged beyond repair.