THINK ABOUT IT: Back to the bag
October 14, 2005
THINK ABOUT IT: Back to the bag
Welcome once again to the Think About It Central E-Mailbag, the one and only stop for my brilliant responses to your well-pondered queries. Quite a few things (12) have happened in the world since last I took the time to answer your missives, and naturally, you’re curious. So I’m going to go through a few of these things to get you people off my back.
Dear Blake,
I’m e-mailing you because none of my regular mail seems to be getting to you. I’ve sent you 11 personal letters, 42 postcards, nine Priority Mail envelopes and one six-by-four foot crate. Never mind what’s in it. My question is, why aren’t you getting any of my mail?
Determined Darla
Darla,
Wow. Nice to have a stalker. Anyway, since Hurricane Katrina screwed up life for millions of us down here in Louisiana, there have been a lot of things we need to adjust to. Long lines at Wal-Mart. Heavy traffic on all major roadways. A dramatic increase in minor nuisances like mosquitoes and Jesse Jackson. But mail delivery has taken a particularly dramatic blow. Now the fact is, even under optimum circumstances, the U.S. Postal Service has not been a model of accuracy and efficiency since Mr. Gailey delivered a thousand sacks of mail to Kris Kringle in a court of law, and frankly, I’ve always suspected that was rather dressed up for dramatic effect. We have grown accustomed to parcels getting lost, letters arriving late and stamps being priced at absurdly strange amounts (37 cents? We can’t calculate how much a book of that will cost, all of our math flashcards got lost in the mail).
Since the storm, however, mail is taking much longer to arrive, if it arrives at all. Bills, letters, paychecks… everything is arriving preposterously late. Periodicals aren’t getting through at all, which is driving me nuts because I’ve missed two issues of City of Heroes already, and if I can’t find out what’s going on in Paragon City soon, I may go nuts. Unfortunately, since the post office replaced all of its phone numbers with a single, nationwide 800 number staffed by approximately three computers, all located in India, it’s impossible to get a hold of anybody higher than the manager at your local post office, who breaks out in tears and screams “I’m only doing my job!” every time you try to broach the question, which if you ask me, is just plain rude.
So in short, if you want to get in touch with me, e-mail is the best way. If you want to exact retribution, send a large package of cheese to anyone in the New Orleans area. I don’t know where they’re keeping all our undelivered mail, but they’ll notice that one pretty quickly.
Mr. Petit
With the new television season upon us, I was wondering if you had any of your trademark thoughts on the new shows. Are you as excited about the new season of Living With Fran as I am?
Excited Edgar.
Edgar,
Believe me, “excited” isn’t even the word for it. Since you asked, though, I’ve been watching the new TV season with some interest, and I was interested to note that the first show has already been cancelled, Fox’s Head Cases, starring Chris O’Donnell as a mature, dedicated attorney. Chris O’Donnell is something of a cosmic anomaly - he was entirely too old when he played Robin in those two Batman movies which should be consigned to the depths of Hades and used to either stoke the fires or, should the devil be in a particularly evil mood, be shown to the damned on the daily basis. However, he looks too young to play… well… anything else.
I have no idea if Head Cases was any good, because Fox cancelled it after just two episodes. This is par for the course for Fox, a network that seems to have the broadcast philosophy “If it ain’t a hit by the first commercial break, replace it with a reality show.” They killed Firefly, they killed Andy Richter Controls the Universe, they killed Futurama… Frankly, I’m astonished that a show as good as Arrested Development has made it all the way to a third season.
The moral of the story? If you’ve got a good show in the pipe, take it to NBC instead. Lord knows they need it, because their Martha Stewart investment isn’t exactly paying off either.
Mr. Blake,
Everything But Imaginary has been online only for a few weeks now. How has it changed, writing a column exclusively on the internet as opposed to putting it in a newspaper?
Curious Quentin
Quint,
Wow, that was actually a good question. Are you sure you’re writing the right column?
Since you asked, things aren’t that different. I’ve still got to be clever and witty on a weekly basis, I’ve still got the same things to talk about. The big difference is that now I can play my Tenacious D CD at top volume as I’m writing without the boss’s daughter whining about it or talking about replacing my column with photographs of her kids playing soccer. Also, the cat can jump on my keyboard at virtually any moment. In short, it’s more like working at a real newspaper than where I was before.
Mssr. Petite:
You know those little blurbs you always put at the end of your column? Does anybody actually read those?
Inquisitive Irene
Irene,
I don’t know. Let’s find out.
Blake M. Petit thinks you’re ugly and your momma dresses you funny. There, that should get people’s attention. Contact him with comments, suggestions or your painful, burning questions at blakept@cox.net.
THINK ABOUT IT: Back to the bag
Welcome once again to the Think About It Central E-Mailbag, the one and only stop for my brilliant responses to your well-pondered queries. Quite a few things (12) have happened in the world since last I took the time to answer your missives, and naturally, you’re curious. So I’m going to go through a few of these things to get you people off my back.
Dear Blake,
I’m e-mailing you because none of my regular mail seems to be getting to you. I’ve sent you 11 personal letters, 42 postcards, nine Priority Mail envelopes and one six-by-four foot crate. Never mind what’s in it. My question is, why aren’t you getting any of my mail?
Determined Darla
Darla,
Wow. Nice to have a stalker. Anyway, since Hurricane Katrina screwed up life for millions of us down here in Louisiana, there have been a lot of things we need to adjust to. Long lines at Wal-Mart. Heavy traffic on all major roadways. A dramatic increase in minor nuisances like mosquitoes and Jesse Jackson. But mail delivery has taken a particularly dramatic blow. Now the fact is, even under optimum circumstances, the U.S. Postal Service has not been a model of accuracy and efficiency since Mr. Gailey delivered a thousand sacks of mail to Kris Kringle in a court of law, and frankly, I’ve always suspected that was rather dressed up for dramatic effect. We have grown accustomed to parcels getting lost, letters arriving late and stamps being priced at absurdly strange amounts (37 cents? We can’t calculate how much a book of that will cost, all of our math flashcards got lost in the mail).
Since the storm, however, mail is taking much longer to arrive, if it arrives at all. Bills, letters, paychecks… everything is arriving preposterously late. Periodicals aren’t getting through at all, which is driving me nuts because I’ve missed two issues of City of Heroes already, and if I can’t find out what’s going on in Paragon City soon, I may go nuts. Unfortunately, since the post office replaced all of its phone numbers with a single, nationwide 800 number staffed by approximately three computers, all located in India, it’s impossible to get a hold of anybody higher than the manager at your local post office, who breaks out in tears and screams “I’m only doing my job!” every time you try to broach the question, which if you ask me, is just plain rude.
So in short, if you want to get in touch with me, e-mail is the best way. If you want to exact retribution, send a large package of cheese to anyone in the New Orleans area. I don’t know where they’re keeping all our undelivered mail, but they’ll notice that one pretty quickly.
Mr. Petit
With the new television season upon us, I was wondering if you had any of your trademark thoughts on the new shows. Are you as excited about the new season of Living With Fran as I am?
Excited Edgar.
Edgar,
Believe me, “excited” isn’t even the word for it. Since you asked, though, I’ve been watching the new TV season with some interest, and I was interested to note that the first show has already been cancelled, Fox’s Head Cases, starring Chris O’Donnell as a mature, dedicated attorney. Chris O’Donnell is something of a cosmic anomaly - he was entirely too old when he played Robin in those two Batman movies which should be consigned to the depths of Hades and used to either stoke the fires or, should the devil be in a particularly evil mood, be shown to the damned on the daily basis. However, he looks too young to play… well… anything else.
I have no idea if Head Cases was any good, because Fox cancelled it after just two episodes. This is par for the course for Fox, a network that seems to have the broadcast philosophy “If it ain’t a hit by the first commercial break, replace it with a reality show.” They killed Firefly, they killed Andy Richter Controls the Universe, they killed Futurama… Frankly, I’m astonished that a show as good as Arrested Development has made it all the way to a third season.
The moral of the story? If you’ve got a good show in the pipe, take it to NBC instead. Lord knows they need it, because their Martha Stewart investment isn’t exactly paying off either.
Mr. Blake,
Everything But Imaginary has been online only for a few weeks now. How has it changed, writing a column exclusively on the internet as opposed to putting it in a newspaper?
Curious Quentin
Quint,
Wow, that was actually a good question. Are you sure you’re writing the right column?
Since you asked, things aren’t that different. I’ve still got to be clever and witty on a weekly basis, I’ve still got the same things to talk about. The big difference is that now I can play my Tenacious D CD at top volume as I’m writing without the boss’s daughter whining about it or talking about replacing my column with photographs of her kids playing soccer. Also, the cat can jump on my keyboard at virtually any moment. In short, it’s more like working at a real newspaper than where I was before.
Mssr. Petite:
You know those little blurbs you always put at the end of your column? Does anybody actually read those?
Inquisitive Irene
Irene,
I don’t know. Let’s find out.
Blake M. Petit thinks you’re ugly and your momma dresses you funny. There, that should get people’s attention. Contact him with comments, suggestions or your painful, burning questions at blakept@cox.net.