Reading a work in progress by Sthetic I was reminded of a competition between my mother and Trude, a friend that she met at university in the late 1940s. The competition was to see who could send the postcard with the worst taste. (Trude’s handwriting was miraculously illegible, consisting of a series of horizontal lines of varying length, on which were placed a few loops at random intervals. Reading these messages was a bit like solving a crossword puzzle, or possibly the Rossetta stone.)
The battle went on for many years, until Trude finished it with an unbeatable card. This is the image that was on the card.