Junk Mail

 
I love junk mail as much as any one can. All the things I get constantly amuse me. Take this huge pile on my desk – please take this huge pile. I can refinance my home with four different companies – even thought I rent an apartment and the only thing I own is a truck. I can take classes to learn everything from lock smithing (could be handy for when I launch my criminal career) to gun smithing (hummmm may even be handier for that criminal career) to computer repair and home inspection. I can improve my love life by taking little pills (wonder if they have one that will give me a love life) and I cam improve my golf swing by watching a video (will it help my putt-putt scores). From one company I can buy eighty zillion dollars in life insurance for only five cents or I can get coverage for unborn children by simply sending them a sample of my breath. But since I have another envelope her that says I have just won a shopping spree through Fort Knox I don’t need insurance. And I can drive to Kentucky for my windfall in one of the eight vehicles I can win if my key fits. Which I can save 14% in insuring with these seven insurance companies envelopes (If I keep calling each of them do they eventually have to pay me to insure my car?) But why do I need a car when this flier shows me how to build a fully functional helicopter out of paper clips and toilet paper. All the tools I need for construction I can select from one of the five tool catalogues that offer free delivery if I call them with a credit card number within fourteen seconds of touching the paper (I wonder how they know when I touch it). Credit card numbers will be easy to come by since I have offers from 47 different companies giving me unlimited credit on platinum cards. Which will come in handy when I start my own home business where people will throw money at me for just getting out of bed at three in the afternoon. And that bed will be comfortable since this pamphlet tells me all about the bed they will send me for a thirty day test. Extremely lazy rocket scientist that kept getting bedsores before a shuttle launch developed the mattress. It shows a picture of a mattress being smashed by Sumo wrestlers driving steamrollers and sustaining no damage. No word on what happened to the guy lying on the mattress during the experiment. I am not sure if I need it though because my bedroom is a low steamroller traffic area. I shouldn’t be able to damage the thing with my weight even if I use the multitude recipes and coupons I received for food that I have never tried (who cooks with Campbell’s cream of Yak anyhow). Although I won't gain any weight because I can shed pounds just by taking these pills while strapped to this machine that will electrocute me into a Schwarzeneggeresque physique with no more effort expended that plugging it in to the wall socket.
Yes, life is good. I have every thing well in hand here. It says so right here in this mailer from the health store that is stuck to the pizza coupons. Now I am going to check my email. Last time there was a offer on Russian mail order brides. I wonder how they ship them. I hope a flat rate is used instead of a per pound. Maybe I should select a really little one.