Sunday, September 24, 2006
Newman. (spoken in disgusted tone)
Ted and I were at a local Austin bar during happy hour the other evening, trying to have a conversation. I say "trying" because it was so loud in the bar that you really couldn't hear the person standing a foot away from you--despite the fact that they were forced to yell at the top of their lungs in order to be heard. In fact, if you were to take any one of the dozens of shriekingly loud conversations going on in there - out of its context - say, outside, and continue it at the same volume, any passersby would think that either you were having a really wicked argument that had degenerated into an all-out yelling match, or that you were definitely both insane.
Anyway, I did happen to catch a bit of what Ted was saying, and one of his comments was about how hard it was to post an earnest, revealing, or truthfully forthright post about something that is important to you or that you believe in, and that conversely it's much easier to be sarcastic, cynical, or bitchy - because you can then hide your vulnerability behind a wall of "attitude." I think he's really got something there, and I am about to do exactly that - to use this forum to complain about something that's bugging me, using sarcasm, irony, and a little biting humor, possibly.
Okay - here's my beef for the day. Remember that old slogan that the U.S. Post Office used back in the day?
"Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, shall keep me from my appointed rounds..."
Well, our mailman doesn't even have to walk anymore to complete his "appointed rounds," but gets to sit in his comfy, air conditioned mail jeep and just drive up to each mail box, open the lid, and shoot the mail in. He's got it pretty easy, no? Or so it seems. Actually, there is a dreaded evil that threatens to ruin the quiet, relaxing serenity of his daily rounds. No, it isn't a pit bull or even a rotweiler. What is this terrible plague that dismays him so that he is... gulp... dare I say it? ... actually incapable of delivering mail to every house, and thus forced to shirk his promise to make all his "appointed rounds?" Okay, I'll stop the suspense. It's this - my neighbor parks his car right in front of the mailboxes along the side of the street, and so the mailman can't just drive up to them and shoot the mail in there. No. He has to stop his car, get out of his car, walk over to the mailbox using his FEET, put the mail in the box, close it, and then walk all the way back to his car and climb back in. I think this must create a serious dilemma in his mind. How can he (1) perform his duties, while (2) avoiding this horrible inconvenience? What can he do? Easy - just drive right by the house, pretending that we (and our duplex neighbors) simply didn't get any mail. Yeah, that's the ticket... they, um... didn't have any mail - yeah, that's the ticket. Put it back in the bin for tomorrow, yeah... I guess I should be thankful that he's not just throwing it in the garbage. I mean, we do seem to be getting every piece of mail that is coming to us. Eventually.
So, let me get this right. In the olden days, mail carriers would trek through a blizzard, or a thunderstorm, or perhaps even a small, tropical depression in order to get your mail to you. But today, it's too much to ask a mailman to do a bit of WALKING...!? I'm putting this picture at the top because now, whenever I think of our mailman, I picture him just exactly as if he were this guy. Newman. J$ ¶ 11:48 AM
Ted and I were at a local Austin bar during happy hour the other evening, trying to have a conversation. I say "trying" because it was so loud in the bar that you really couldn't hear the person standing a foot away from you--despite the fact that they were forced to yell at the top of their lungs in order to be heard. In fact, if you were to take any one of the dozens of shriekingly loud conversations going on in there - out of its context - say, outside, and continue it at the same volume, any passersby would think that either you were having a really wicked argument that had degenerated into an all-out yelling match, or that you were definitely both insane.
Anyway, I did happen to catch a bit of what Ted was saying, and one of his comments was about how hard it was to post an earnest, revealing, or truthfully forthright post about something that is important to you or that you believe in, and that conversely it's much easier to be sarcastic, cynical, or bitchy - because you can then hide your vulnerability behind a wall of "attitude." I think he's really got something there, and I am about to do exactly that - to use this forum to complain about something that's bugging me, using sarcasm, irony, and a little biting humor, possibly.
Okay - here's my beef for the day. Remember that old slogan that the U.S. Post Office used back in the day?
"Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, shall keep me from my appointed rounds..."
Well, our mailman doesn't even have to walk anymore to complete his "appointed rounds," but gets to sit in his comfy, air conditioned mail jeep and just drive up to each mail box, open the lid, and shoot the mail in. He's got it pretty easy, no? Or so it seems. Actually, there is a dreaded evil that threatens to ruin the quiet, relaxing serenity of his daily rounds. No, it isn't a pit bull or even a rotweiler. What is this terrible plague that dismays him so that he is... gulp... dare I say it? ... actually incapable of delivering mail to every house, and thus forced to shirk his promise to make all his "appointed rounds?" Okay, I'll stop the suspense. It's this - my neighbor parks his car right in front of the mailboxes along the side of the street, and so the mailman can't just drive up to them and shoot the mail in there. No. He has to stop his car, get out of his car, walk over to the mailbox using his FEET, put the mail in the box, close it, and then walk all the way back to his car and climb back in. I think this must create a serious dilemma in his mind. How can he (1) perform his duties, while (2) avoiding this horrible inconvenience? What can he do? Easy - just drive right by the house, pretending that we (and our duplex neighbors) simply didn't get any mail. Yeah, that's the ticket... they, um... didn't have any mail - yeah, that's the ticket. Put it back in the bin for tomorrow, yeah... I guess I should be thankful that he's not just throwing it in the garbage. I mean, we do seem to be getting every piece of mail that is coming to us. Eventually.
So, let me get this right. In the olden days, mail carriers would trek through a blizzard, or a thunderstorm, or perhaps even a small, tropical depression in order to get your mail to you. But today, it's too much to ask a mailman to do a bit of WALKING...!? I'm putting this picture at the top because now, whenever I think of our mailman, I picture him just exactly as if he were this guy. Newman. J$ ¶ 11:48 AM
