Free Ronald Rabbit Is a Dirty Old Man by Lawrence Block

“inside gags” in the publishing industry concerning an executive secretary with that first name who is possessed, if you will, of an insatiable appetite for carrots. This would not be a problem with Rachel, or, come to think of it, with Rosalie, Rhonda, Ruth or Rita.
    (2) Should your reaction to (1) be favorable, I would beg to be considered for the post of editor. I should be glad to submit a resume upon request, and, if policy dictates, would willingly assume the nom de guerre of Laura Clarke for the term of employment.
    (3) This last point may well be the most important of all. In any mammoth corporation, Mr. Finch, an executive is faced with the problem of delegating authority wisely. One cannot take too much upon one’s own shoulders, nor yet can one put too much trust in the good judgment of inferiors.
    What brings this all home is a letter I today received. It seems to have originated from your office, and was either signed by a subordinate or, in the crush of daily work, was signed by yourself without you having taken the time to read it. A glance will assure you that you would not at your worst moment be capable of producing such drivel. While a letter of this sort directed to me would have no obvious repercussions, you can surely imagine the results if a more important letter were handled in this fashion. For that matter, even this particular letter could have unfortunate results should it be widely circulated among, for example, editorial and sales personnel. While the word laughingstock is a bit strong, I’m sure the point is clear to you.
    In the event that you do not have a copy of the letter at hand, I am enclosing herewith a Xerox copy for your attention.
    With all good wishes,
    Laurence Clarke
    Editor Emeritus
    LC/s
    Enc.

12
    Ronald Rabbit’s Magazine for Boys and Girls
    67 West 44 th Street
    New York 10036
    LAURENCE CLARKE,
    EDITOR
    June 23
    Miss Rozanne Gumbino
    Whitestone Publications, Inc.
    67 West 44 th Street
    New York 10036
    Dearest Rozanne:
    The offer still holds, you gorgeous cunt, you.
    Hungrily,
    The Phantom

13
    74 Bleecker St.
    New York 10012
    June 23
    Mr. Ronald David Caulder, Esq.
    Muggsworth, Caulder, Travis & Beale
    437 Piper Blvd. Richmond, Va.
    Dear Mr. Caulder:
    I have it on reasonably good authority that you are presently engaged in the preparation of a suit of defamation of character against Mr. Clayton Finch, President of Whitestone Publications, Inc.
    This puts me in a rather awkward position, as I have ties of allegiance to both Mr. Finch and yourself, having served one in the capacity of editor and the other in the capacity of son-in-law. My first impulse was to sit this one out on the sidelines, but further reflection has convinced me that neutrality in this instance would be cowardly and irresponsible.
    Accordingly, I’m enclosing herewith a Xerox copy of a letter I received today from Mr. Finch. You’ll note his reference to yourself in the passage I’ve marked. His characterization of you as “either terribly confused or a raving maniac,” and his recommendation that I cease to employ you professionally, would certainly seem to be actionable. Of course mine is only a lay opinion in every sense of the word, and you will no doubt be better able to judge this point.
    At the same time, I do owe a measure of loyalty to Mr. Finch for past favors. Thus, should this matter ever come to court, it would be my duty to testify on his behalf. I would then confirm his charge and would testify that, during the time I have known you, you have frequently been terribly confused and have more than occasionally acted the role of a raving maniac.
    My regards to your client Mrs. Clarke. Please convey to her my best wishes for success in her forthcoming marriage.
    Very truly yours,
    Laurence Clarke
    LC/s Enc.

14
    219 Maple Road
    Richmond, Virginia
    Saturday
    Dear Larry,
    I ought to know better than to write you this letter. You’ll probably send a copy of it to my father, or to The New