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!?

YOU'RE DEAD TO ME!

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...

...holograms!

All right, it's true! Of course nobody needs mail. What do you
think, you're so clever for figuring that out?