By: Sir Henry Reginald Puffenstuff
October 7, 1924
While taking a stroll through the vast, carpeted savannah of RBD this afternoon, I happened upon one of nature's strange miracles. I shot it before it had the chance to move. Then, lowering my Kodak, I inched closer. What I had glimpsed was, indeed, a wild Thesis Essayus. This Thesis was sleek, its strong central idea supported by three slender, arching secondary points. I hoped to get a closer look, but it skittered off before I could lay hands on it. I reproduce it as best I can below, although my words serve as a poor representation of this magnificent beast:
Through the use of metaphor, grim word choice and alliteration, Chaucer drives home the theme that life is fleeting.
Truly spectacular, to stumble across such a beast unawares. Especially on a grim Tuesday in RBD, as the stormy seas of midterms approach. But such is the nature of the thesis, running past on soundless, integrated quotation-feet. It takes the skill of a veteran essayist to affix one to the page for further study, and in this respect, I have failed. But I must keep a stiff upper lip.
Until I have a Thesis successfully mounted above my fireplace, I must take comfort in reproductions I encounter in the storybooks of my youth. Only with careful training will I recognize my quarry when I stumble across it.
Ever have they analysis-coated limbs - three, often, which manifest themselves as paragraphs, an unimportant technical term in the hunting world. The central carapace, the main “point” of the beast, is supported by these. These supports are integral – without them, the beast will wander aimlessly, awaiting capture by some Professorius Englishae, which will gleefully stain it red with ink, effectively killing it.
Included are some of the different beasts I’ve recorded in previous entries, to refresh my memory. Of course, the Thesis can camouflage to fit its surroundings, and my descriptions focus mainly on the literary sort. Therefore, when in search of other big game, it’s necessary to recall that different shapes and sizes can inevitably be stumbled across.
One particularly strange thesis:
Lord Byron shows the importance of apples through his reliance on fruit-vocabulary, time spent washing fruit, and a metaphoric comparison of his wife to (a?) Granny Smith.
Another, still young and undeveloped:
Through the use of (a), (b) and (c), document “d” uses a more effective argument than “e,” persuading readers that unicorns are both very real, and a major contributor to global warming.
Oh dear. That’ll have to be all for the moment. I’ve spotted a Comma Spliceadontus. I’m not a certified Grammarian, but I’ve heard they’re dangerous, I might be in trouble, I’d best be off.
Faithfully yours,
H. R. Puffenstuff
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