Amelia Earhart's peach basket paper hat

My brother hooked his computer up to the TV so I'm viewing the internet and watching television at the same time. Oh my god, IT'S THE FUTURE! My words are very large. I keep running into the kitchen expecting some kind of robotic maid or one of those devices on Star Trek where they make whatever food you want but crappy, like some kind of interstellar canteen. Future, I demand you find a way to materialize multi-flavor candy that doesn't include the colors yellow or green. I would like my fruit by the meter, not foot. Extra marshmallows in my galactic marshmallow cereal, please. Also, it would be pretty cool if I could look out the window (past the Dr. Phil-esque wise woman with large teeth who may or may not cut your throat with a straight razor) and see the moon beneath me. Not the Earth moon, of course, one of those far distant moons that no one can prove doesn't exist. Yeah, you heard me, science. You can't prove it.

The 1960's promised and future, you'd better deliver this time. Not like moon shoes.

Anyway, I wrote you a story. I saw you walking down the street the other week and you were carrying a large basket and when you set it down I noticed that inside this basket was another basket smaller than the first one.

Also, what was up with those wooden clogs you were wearing?

Anyway, when you set the baskets down I couldn't resist. I was expecting rice cookers or 15 boxes of animal crackers, or, to tell you the truth, anything except for the disembodied head of Mary Tyler Moore. Who can turn the world on with her smile, and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile? I thought the beret was a nice touch, but I am overcome by words such as ubiquitous and weave. Handles seem so wasteful to me given the contents. I am not to be trusted with nesting baskets. But then you were gone, and I didn't get the chance to ask you what was in the MTM head. Pirate treasure? A mummified moth colony? Oh Amelia, how sad it must be to be the same color as everything around you. One can only assume that during your time in the jungle, after you floated down to earth like Mary Poppins or Alice, you found the secret to immortality in a tree fruit and discovered that it was to be functionally invisible. If I had some paint on me or was some form of very large beet I could smudge you back into existence at least until it rained again.

Also, your eyes are diamonds in this story.

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