The Sh– To Just Sh–ty… USPS

Established in 1775 by Benjamin Franklin, the United States Postal Service was a necessity.  People wanted to get messages to each other, and due to the Great Falcon Shortage of 1772 and the Mass Page Suicide Pact of 1774, providing this service was a must.  Though many people who “know” history will “claim” the Great Falcon Shortage and Mass Page Suicide Pact never happened, this truth remains – the US Postal Service was The Shit.

"Get yer hope right hyere..."

"Get yer hope right hyere..."

 Think about it.  How else did people communicate?  By talking face-to-face and… um, by telling somebody else to send a message.

Sometimes they ring four times...

Sometimes they ring four times...

In our modern age, we forget how essential the USPS was to building our country, and I don’t want to go into specifics (mostly because I don’t feel like looking them up), but according to – who else – Wikipedia:

Employing 656,000 workers and 260,000 vehicles, it is the second-largest civilian employer in the United States (after Walmart) and the operator of the largest civilian vehicle fleet in the world.

So the question that remains – how have they become Just Shitty?

Is it a sense that they aren’t as vital to our country anymore, given that we have other methods of communication, bill paying, and package sending?

Or are my feelings strictly personal?  The USPS was afterall responsible for these deliveries:

img_1067

Strike 1...

usps

Strike 2...

Happy Find… People Of Walmart

It's a little bit late for the condom.

It's a little bit late for the condom.

I’m a fan of Kurt Vonnegut’s works (I would declare huge fan, but I’ve read less than a handful of his books… oops!), but as I recall in Slaughterhouse-Five, there was a zoo on Tralfamadore that housed Earthlings.

ATTENTION ALL TRALFAMADORIANS!

If you want some fine specimen for your collection, search no further than any local Walmart.  If you require samples, check out the menagerie of folks (and their vehicles) at the website People Of Walmart.

And while you’re at Walmart, bathroom cleaning supplies are in aisle five… in case you wanna build a sex toy or something…

So it goes

Eye gotta hand it to ya...

A Tralfamadorian

(artwork by Animatedpunk)

Groundhogs, Explosions, And A Lack Of Clothes

It first occurred to me in Pennsylvania.  Punxsutawney, to be exact.  Some family and friends went there two winters ago for the 30th birthday of my sister, Becky.  (Sorry for letting the groundhog out of the bag…)
 
Her birthday falls on Groundhog Day, and the festivities at Gobbler’s Knob (um, yep, that’s it name) were surprisingly warm for it being so cold.  The people were nice at the Walmart we parked at and on the bus.  The grounds were cleared of fresh snow and already covered in hay which prevented soaking wet feet. 
I don’t get up at 5am for much of anything other than a flight, but I’m glad we awakened on time in order to witness this:
Catch a sparkler on your tongue!
Catch a sparkler on your tongue!

A fireworks display in the morning snow.

Normally, I’m not a big fan of the big booms on the Fourth (the mini-booms at my uncle’s house are a blast), but when they’re unexpected, they can be beautiful.  A similar feeling snuck up on me last night on Veteran’s Day.  I stayed at work a little later to avoid traffic… and read blogs.  Sometimes my wireless Internet doesn’t work at home because my neighbor turns it off, or starts fiddling with it somehow – asshole (j/k if you read this, which you probably don’t, so j/k).

On the freeway, I passed a mall presenting a full-fledged spectacular, grand finale and all (I stopped at a Best Buy – what’s wrong with me?)  I couldn’t stop smiling.  The music on the radio even seemed to mesh with the flashing and flaring chemicals (seriously, what’s wrong with me?)  It was… unexpected.

This made me realize that surprises are what it’s all about.  Like hearing Christmas music on the radio the day after Halloween.  It happens every year, but I forget that it’s going to happen and I actually enjoy it.  (Although I do grow sick of it well before Thanksgiving, and I feel sick for admitting this all – damn happy music.)

Or it’s just like going to a party where you don’t expect to meet anyone of interest (whichever path of interest you choose), and you gain an insight or catch an STD.  Regardless, it’s still a fun surprise!

In closing, it’s the same way with nudity.  If I go to the strip club, I’m paying for the fireworks and Christmas music.  But in public… on a Tuesday… in the rain – huzzah!  At a concert… when changing into another shirt – huzzah!  Or through my apartment window, into yours, across the alley.  Your lights are on.  Mine are off.  Huzzah…