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Content Dear Editor:<br/> <br/> How could you fall for the backbiting and slander of my sister, Dolly Jayal-Bate? Is she the one who got you derisively sneering at <span style="font-style: italic;">Mismeasure of Mensa</span> as "<span style="font-style: italic;">MoM</span>?"<br/> <br/> In any case, the final decision was with you male chauvinist pigs to axe <span style="font-style: italic;">MoM</span>. I'll bet this last episode you're running this month will be only half the usual length - you'll cut out the heart of my assault on male monstrousness.<br/> <br/> I'll resurrect MoM, whatever it takes, even if I have to start my own SIG [special interest group]. I'll probably have to precensor myself to get past the editors, so expect a new Lottie, restricted to philosophy and science topics (the new scope of the Philosophy SIG's <span style="font-style: italic;">Synapse</span>, for example) instead of my usual social and sexual sarcasm. I'll probably change my name, but you'll be able to recognize the new name because I'll keep the same number of letters. (Fourteen, including five for my new middle name, which I'll not use to confuse Immensan spies. Readers of <span style="font-weight: bold;">The Ecphorizer </span>will know to expect nine letters.) I may even change the title to <span style="font-style: italic;">22nd Century Science.</span><br/> <br/> Worst of all, I may have to betray my Mensan faith. To get published I may have to take a thousand-in-one shot with the Immensan Society for Psychical Endeavors I've sneaked into. <span style="font-style: italic;">MoM</span> has already been 99% turned down by the Infernal Legionnaires.) The Thirty-Niner Society wouldn't even let me in, claiming that my mind wasn't mannish (spatial-mechanical) enough.<br/> <br/> Truth to tell, you <span style="font-weight: bold;">Ecphorizer </span>editors have been more open than I've found other men to be. I've struck great blows for my causes, which would otherwise be known only to the future. I expect you'll even announce in <span style="font-weight: bold;">The Eck</span> where I manage to revive <span style="font-style: italic;">MoM</span>.<br/> <br/> Demurely yours, as always, <br/> Lottie Fish-Bate<br/> <br/> <span style="font-style: italic;">Actually, we (current editor and [female] assistant editor, and most recent former editor) had decided to give </span>MoM<span style="font-style: italic;"> (my casual abbreviation for </span>Mismeasure<span style="font-style: italic;">) a vacation before Lottie submitted Part Fourteen. Personally, I thought that Part Thirteen, which Lottie had already sent me, would have made an eminently suitable final chapter in <span style="font-weight: bold;">The Ecphorizer </span>but Lottie rather insisted on substituting this snarling, half-length Part Fourteen instead. Propriety prohibits me from commenting on the great blows that Lottie delivers. As for the future, I don't have crystal balls.</span><br style="font-style: italic;"/><br style="font-style: italic;"/><span style="font-style: italic;">So, dear readers, there you have both sides of the argument, and, just as you must do with politicians, you will have to make up your own minds who you want to believe. To quote at least one American politician, "I am not a crook." Or liar, as the case may be. --Ed.  <img width="20" height="13" alt="" src="/EPS/pictures/Image/EckE.gif"/><br/> </span>

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