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Eight Days a Week (or five)

Look…I know that the actual demand for Saturday mail delivery is quite low, and the cost is quite high. Even for YHB, with better mail than most of you, I can very reasonably wait until Monday for my mail deliveries. Furthermore, having spent Saturdays at work for five years, it kinda stinks, and while it’s better than not having a job, still, it’s nicer to have the two weekend days off. And, as my old Dad would say, it’s good for The Jews.

So. Fine. The new delivery schedule is probably, sure, whatever. A good idea. The right thing to do.

But—and I can’t say this strongly enough—what the hell is wrong with us that we can’t deliver mail six days a week? I mean, Jesus fuck, people, we’re the richest country in the world, our goddamned streets are paved with fucking ruby-titanium-platinum zebra stripes, at least in the nice neighborhoods. Mrs. Carter and her husband bought their daughter a diamond-enfuckingcrusted Barbie, and they won’t be even the big dicks at the Dolby Fucking Theatre on the twenty-fourth. Oh, and some stupid fuckers paid NBC two hundred and fifty fucking million fucking dollars to run their goddamned ads during the Super Bowl. That’s the ads—there was eleven billion dollars in total consumer spending connected to the sonofabitch, and ten billion dollars in gambling. Ten billion dollars in bets on one game! Because fuck yeah this is the United Fucking States of USfuckingA, and we could deliver mail twenty times a day, you’re fucking right we could.

Hell, three thousand fucking goddamned DOGS are going to Madison Square Garden next week, where their owners can buy a thousand dollar ice-cream fucking sundae to console them for not winning a little purple and gold motherfucking rosette.

We have thousand dollar coffee pots, because fuck yeah this is the United Fucking States of USfuckingA, and if we don’t have hundred-thousand-dollar stoves, yet, maybe there’ll be one on the enormous fucking yacht that just docked in West Palm Fucking Beach.

You know what? There’s a trend for fucking alumni tours that offer ultimate in service, comfort and convenience for less than a hundred grand, not counting hookers and blow. Why? Because fuck yeah this is the United Fucking States of USfuckingA, that’s why.

So I don’t care if going to five-day delivery is actually sensible from a cost-benefit standpoint. It smells like giving up to me.

Tolerabimus quod tolerare debemus,


Do you feel this is a larger or a smaller step on the highway to Giveuptown than the one taken in 1950, when the Post Office Department ended the practice of delivering mail twice per day?

In truth, Jim, I am bitter about that, too. That's a bigger deal for businesses; this one of course is more about our homes. I'll say this, though: we're definitely heading South on that highway.


hear hear, V. This is ridiculous.

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