Oct 3, 2006 by

So how hard can the mail be? Rain. Snow. Sleet. Barking dogs and brown paper subscriptions. A relatively gruntled situation. No reason for dissing the grunt. No reason to wield firearms or kill coworkers. Likewise, for the average resident or mail recipient, the mail is part of life that is both assumed and presumed; well, sometimes, if a nutty fruitcake or holiday beef log then even consumed. A few pieces of treasure snuggled in a mound of junk mail and solicitations. Perhaps the wife’s VS catalog, maybe a chance to win the sweepstakes and a visit from Ed McMahon. Usually the day’s delivery is just a loquacious love-note from an unrequited bill collector or a diatribe from an emotional, ersatz musically, disturbed fan. Oh the joys of semi-fame!. Despite the joys of e-mail, the crisp physical letter from a stalker is always a sensory joy. The smell of cheap perfume on a tear, lipstick, or occasionally blood stained letter. Tsk. Tsk. Oh the good ole days pre Katrina when my fans and stalkage were a blur of body parts, threatening letters, and packing peanuts! Where have all the flowers gone? Well, I just know they have not been delivered here… by the way, I hear that the cemetery is not receiving packages either.

Somehow all that is forgotten in the Big Easy on October 2, 2006. One year and one month and a few sheckles post Katrina (nice polysyndeton, eh?), my mail service is still sketchy, as my home floats from second city to third world but not quite back again. Two packages are M.I.A. My headshots and xylophone (??) were recently returned to senders because, according to the USP (and UPS), I no longer exist. It’s as if I’m out of bizniz. It’s as if I’m dead. But trust me, my voter registration and tax bills will miraculously arrive even after I shed this proverbial mortal coil. Heck in certain parts of the state I’ll probably still be able to and shall vote. How’s that for suffering suffrage? How’s that for purple prose?

Anyway … it’s as if the paperwork and bureaucracy and cluster fudge of FEMA has spilled over into other seemingly efficient operations. Houses, blocks, neighborhoods, and apparently small dynasties (aka the kingdom of me) have disappeared from the map – literally, figuratively, and rand mcnallishly. The computer GPS has erased us. What can Brown do for me? Bring me my friggin’xylophone (why I ordered one or why I’m upset now that it is lost I don’t quite know… but I have the right to bear one, play one, bang one, and even ship and receive one .) Has the Brown of UPS been replaced or re-regulated by the Brown Michael of incompetence? I know UPS and USP are notb the same. But they are. They are. They both function on the same misinformation about whether we exist and where we exist. The postman may only ring twice, but the gov’t seems to keep screwing up again and again and again, Ad infinitum. Ad nausea. Add postage. BLOG THIS!

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