From: The College of Revisionist History, University of Minas Tirith

To: Board of Trustees, University of Minas Tirith

Dear Sirs (and Madam):

It has come to our attention that some members of your august body have considered raising a memorial to Mr. Frodo Baggins in honor of his so-called "sacrifices" in what has been loosely dubbed "The War of The Ring".

It is with the greatest trepidation that we encourage you to refrain from such an over-sentimental act of ignorance. Recent research by our department has revealed that Frodo was nothing less than the class oppressor that it is our sworn duty to stamp out of existence.

Take, for example, this little-noticed addendum to The Red Book of Westmarch, discovered by our researchers just recently.

"The Memoirs of Master Samwise"

O.K., when do I get paid?

It works like this, huh?

I work my butt off. I nurse that little whiner from Hobbiton to The Cracks of Doom. I keep my eye on that little weasel Gollum (may he rest in ashes), I rescue him from the Orcs, I baby sit him from Cirith Ungol to Orodruin, I CARRY him to the last test, where he conveniently wusses out and lets Gollum do his dirty work for him.

What happens?

We go back to The Shire.

And no sooner than we get there than he is aching to leave. You would think that as de facto leader of the Baggins clan he would be willing to stay until the evil that had been done under Lotho had been healed.

HAH!

I swear, that little nit cared no more for the Shire than he did for the toe-jam of one of Sharkey's Orcs. While he might have covered it all up in noble sentiments like "someone has to give these things up, Sam" and "the last pages are for you, Sam", in his mind he was screaming "Get me the H*** out of this backwater pesthole!!"

To tell the truth, I don't blame him all that much. He had that crazy cousin of his egging him on. But is that any excuse to leave me here in a hole that is going to need years of renovation to be even remotely habitable?

While he is living it up with Elves and such, here I am with a wife, a child, and another on the way (where the heck is birth control, for Pete's sake?), a desolate Shire (Mayor my fat Hobbit a**!), and no prospects on the way. Yeah, Strider talks a good game, but I'll see him up here when you see wings on a Balrog.

And to top things off, he skips off while owing me for wages from September 1418 through September 1420. You would think that he would have the common decency to at least pay me. But no, he was too busy boozing it up at The Green Dragon to bother with things like that. Merry and Pippin agree with me, the rotten little creep is well gone from here. All that crying and singing you here about is in regards to A) Lost wages and B) relief that the cretin is out of our hair.

Screw him.

Samwise Gamgee
October 17, 1420
Hobbiton, The Shire

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