Actually, I'm pretty sure "Sues (and everyone else) ignore him, so he's fine" was most of the actual argument for him knowing about the PPC. The rest, IIRC, was that he canonically knows things he probably shouldn't anyway.
And historically, it does sort of go for Gimli, and Éowyn, too. They don't permanently know about the PPC, but it was recommended to go to them for help, since Suvians ignoring them means they aren't as susceptible to the Suefluence, and can see that their compatriots are acting like idiots, and want to help.
See, the "established rules of the PPC" weren't always what they are now. Heck, we didn't really have established rules for a long time, other than these, and they were regarded as more guidelines than actual rules. Basically, as long as people liked the idea and it was funny, you could do it.
I mainly object to the idea of canons knowing about the PPC when the argument for it boils down to "they are more awesome and special than anyone ever." Like... I think Sherlock Holmes came up once? And yeah, he's cool and smart and would probably figure everything out quickly enough if he weren't brainwashed by his latest daughter/sister/lover/wife/whatever, but that doesn't imply that agents should deliberately leave him with uncanonical knowledge, and it certainly doesn't make him immune to neuralyzation or canon snap-back.
I had to talk someone out of leaving a character with an eidetic memory with knowledge of the PPC, too. He was an alien of some sort and might not have had eyes, IIRC, so it would make sense that the neuralyzer wouldn't work—but FicPsych has a lot more technological resources, and even someone who wouldn't forget anything under normal circumstances can still have his mind messed with by, say, fictional chemical substances. {= P Plus, again, canon snap-back.
But I think the rules of the Disc are just absurd enough to allow for Gaspode, personally. {= )
Re. Jool, you did forget, though to be fair it's a joke from... *checks e-mail record* October of 2015. So I will tell it again, and then everyone else will at least sort of get it, too:
In closing, have a silly scene that popped into my head yesterday:
Jenni: So what's your actual name? "Notary"'s a bit stiff for... informal use. *smirk*
Notary: *cool look* Antrilovorasilendar.
Jenni: *blink* What do they call you for short?
Notary: My whole. Name.
Jenni: ... Right. Jool it is.
(It's a
Farscape reference. The character originally bearing the nickname Jool, whose part the Notary takes in this dialogue, is Joolushko Tunai Fenta Hovalis. ^_^ )
~Neshomeh
---
Jenni stared down at the pad in her hand, mouth in a studious twist and one finger tapping lightly against her thigh.
There were several avenues she could think of to pursue from here. Deciding the Universal Translator could negate the problem would work, but that felt like cheating; borrowing someone's TARDIS for the purpose only slightly less so.
Maybe if she got some psychic paper and copied the entries onto it? Did psychic paper even work that way?
Trying to find someone who could read Gallifreyan would of course represent an unconscionable breach of confidentiality, but merely threatening as much might be good enough.
Learning to read Gallifreyan herself would be quite the coup, but either she'd have to do it in the same relative time as everyone else, which would take forever, or she'd have to go be Gallifreyan for a while in a non-linear fashion, returning to the moment she'd left here, which again felt rather like cheating.
She could probably get a computer to read it. The PPC had access to any data you could possibly want. That would work, and it was something anyone could do, and was therefore not cheating. It was a pretty good option.
On the other hand, simply solving the puzzle didn't quite seem in the spirit of the game, which this was. There was nothing for it but to track down the Notary in person and maybe drag her out to lunch or something, all the better to bug her about deliberately avoiding Jenni's office hours to leave her a book full of writing she couldn't read and a provocative note that she very well could. Really, if she didn't want Jenni to vigorously pursue the matter, she might've just done the assignment and follow-up as intended in the first place.
This would be fun.