19 Nov 03
I am writing you from Finland, Scandinavia. I turn to you in a really odd case. For many years I’ve been fascinated by the idea to get something from me to the North Pole and to the South Pole. Last year, two of my “teeth of wisdom” (molars) were removed by a dental surgeon and those teeth were after that disinfected and sealed in a bag. Since then I’ve had this weird idea, that I definitely want to get one wisdom teeth to the maximum South and the other one to the maximum North. So, I would like to know, if there are any chance to get a wisdom-tooth of mine to be buried in the Antarctic? This must be the oddest request you have ever heard of, but I am sincerely asking this. Please keep this email confidenial.
We will gladly plunge that disinfected tooth of yours into the South Pole directly. Your seed thus planted in a mountain of shifting ice, it will begin its long creep to the Antarctic coast, accompanied by a thousand tons of raw American feces similarly hidden, and the impossible difficulties of ultimate glory will be yours to omit as you see fit. Send it to our contact at the South Pole: [name omitted], South Pole Station, PSC 468, Box 400, APO AP 96598. I agree that this is an “odd” request, but for reasons you may not have intended. Antarctic contract workers must have their wisdom teeth removed to be eligible for employment (a symbolic removal of undesirable faculties?), and I am amused at the prospect of a molarless American station importing wisdom teeth from another country. In the spirit of international cooperation, Big Dead Place agrees to underwrite your pathologically common jab at immortality, and will send you pictures of the proceedings.
F. Scott Robert
Ingredients for the Ritual
1 Disinfected Finnish Tooth
1 Bottle Finlandia Vodka
1 Bottle Plax Dental Rinse
1 Finnish Flag
1 Geographical South Pole
11 Enthusiastic and Costumed Americans
On this 7th day of February, 2004, at the Geographical South Pole, of planet Earth, the third planet from the sun, in a small solar system in the Milky Way Galaxy, a random and insignificant clump of gasses in a vast, expanding universe, we are here gathered to bury the disinfected tooth of some deranged foreigner that none of us has ever met.
In the overt Antarctic tradition of international cooperation, we will plant this Finn’s wisdom tooth at 90 degrees South, in symbolic hope that wisdom may one day grow on this desolate and absurd continent, and that the entire polar plateau may one day be filled with endless rows of the disinfected teeth of insane Scandinavians, Mongols, Slavs, and our other friends from around the world.
So mote be it. Let us bury the tooth.