Let Me Tell You About A Porcupines Balls

Friday, September 23, 2011

I Want Out...Permanently

I'm want out of this spam operation.

95% of mail is the following, by volume:
  • 12 page booklets of local grocery coupons
  • Perpetual reminders of the "one weekend only" local furniture sale that's been running for over 6 weeks
  • Tempting 45.8% APR credit card offers
  • Balance reminders that I still owe $0 on that credit card from two years ago
  • Buttplug and sex swing mail-order catalogs addressed to a resident who probably lived here during the Nixon era
  • Local "buy 7 entrees, 7 drinks and 7 desserts, and get 1 entree of lesser value for free" coupons

The mailbox is nothing but a reverse trashcan, and I'm done with it all. You're dead to me, mailbox. You hear me, you filthy metal cocksucker!?


Calm down, everyone. No one's cancelling any mail.
Oh, yes, I am.
What about your bills?
The bank can pay 'em.
*Scoff* The bank... What about your cards and letters?
E-mail, telephones, fax machines...
...Fedex, telex, telegrams...
All right, it's true! Of course nobody needs mail. What do you
think, you're so clever for figuring that out?

No comments:

Post a Comment