Monday, August the 2nd, 2004
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The reference library in Spangles, mentioned in today's instalment of the enthralling serial Unspeakable Desolation Pouring Down From The Stars, is, as far as I know, the only library in the world to hold a complete run of Dobson's short-lived periodical A Lantern In The Pit. The Lantern, as it was known, was a bold attempt to shed Dobsonian light on various intractable questions, chiefly of a philosophical bent. For some unknown reason, the pamphleteer-turned-journalist chose to compose most of the contents in a so-called ur-lingua of his own devising. He provided no translations, and all the papers relating to what he hoped would become a new universal language were destroyed in the Potato Building fire. We are left with seven fat issues of the magazine, densely packed with text which is—and, one assumes, will remain—devoid of meaning. Various cryptographers have at one time or another tried to crack Dobson's code, but most of them have given up when they discovered that no one would pay them. Here is a mercifully brief extract, from Volume 2, Number 1:
Ack spun dig hod bulk frag mint. Shog nit pan get hole tap pote. Rag snout cot bag hag ack ack tix. Nod goo pin pan sap tot foo. Ack ret bit pig nip pap lop fret sip. Pipi ut snap tog tog hoo flap toggle bin pan get hat sop tin ack pan fop. Chap.