Please Don’t Privatize Our Post Office
The very nice absentee ballot application with a postpaid envelope with my name and voting history classification (“above average”) arrived with an envelope it wouldn’t fit in without folding. Is there a rule that discounts folded applications?
For the very first time in years, when driving through Cheshire, Ohio, I see that all the big chimneys and spires of the coal processing plant are blackened partway down them. I wonder if that’s because of a recent deregulation?
Damn, I hate being suspicious!
As the Harper’s Magazine for September reports, “Online murder-for-hire advertisements seek to convey professionalism yet tend not to provide references up front…”
P.S. This was at the end of the Findings paragraph: “Psychopaths recommended harsher punishmengts for homicides, whether accidental or motivated by profit, but exhibit relative low concern about killing in general.”
They say you’re not paranoid if your ideation is true. I’m wondering what the president’s younger brother died of, and what was the race of the man the secret service shot. And if what he had in his hand was a camera when he knelt.
…Hang on with me and baby possum during these uncertain times…. I even read that our millionaire president thinks the public should pay more for first class stamps. Not nice!
“In this country, two things stand first in rank: your flag and your mail. You all know what honor you pay to your flag, but you should know, also, that your mail, — just that ordinary postal card—is also important. But a postal card, or any form of mail, is not important, in that way, until you drop it through a slot in this building, and with a stamp on it, or into a mail box outdoors. Up to that instant it is but a common card, which anybody can pick up and carry off without committing a criminal act. But as soon as it is in back of this partition, or in a mail box, a magical transformation occurs; and anybody who now should willfully purloin it, or obstruct its trip in any way, will find prison doors awaiting him. What a frail thing ordinary mail is! A baby could rip it apart, but no adult is so foolish as to do it. That small stamp which you stick on it, is, you might say, a postal official, going right along with it, having it always in his sight.”
― Ernest Vincent Wright, Gadsby
The soft blue blanket used to be electric.
Now it’s a rag of its former self, but a warm rag
when used along with sheet and comforter.
It’s an eyesore if you turn on the light and study it.
But why do that?