YOU. GUYS. Just realized the length of time between my last post and this very day. Very long length. The longest. Maybe not the longest in terms of a geological epoch, but certainly exceeding the length of a dragonfly’s average life span. I want to attribute this somewhat notable absence (which I am sure has profoundly impacted so many lives) to a good reason. I desperately want to say that I’ve been ultra busy, doing many important things with important people, and that my commitment to the kind and benevolent works I have tirelessly been performing have left me little-to-no time for writing, but that would be a blatant lie.
No. Please let me be very clear that I have been fucking around in the truest sense of whatever that means.
However, it simply doesn’t sit well with me that my prolific and highly influential online presence, appreciated by so many billions of human and robot eyes, would come to close on a piece advocating voluntary consumption of FOX news.
SO yeah. Turns out I have managed to do one kinda not shitty thing since May 30th!
To which I am sure, you are like wow congrats what an accomplishment. But whatever sarcastic assholes, you can bet your bottom dollar I am giving myself an enthusiastic pat on the back as we speak. I intend the entire last sentence a turn of phrase and not literal way of course, because obviously as
we speak I type this, I am employing the use of both hands and my voice not at all.
I have moved, to a place.
A place where my parents do not reside. A bonafide, brick and mortar residence with my name on the lease and my blender on a shelf. It has a dishwasher and great natural light and roommate and a roomate’s cat who will barely look at me and a mailman who I am absolutely convinced is breaking into all of our homes, with nefarious intentions.
You heard me. Despite all reasonable logic pointing to this last observation not being the case at all, that doesn’t mean I’m convinced it is not happening.
“Why would he do such a thing?”
You might be wondering, and to that I have both an abundance and a lack of answers. For the thrills, I would surmise. Perhaps he originally entered in search of valuables, but quickly realized the degree of our poverty. Perhaps he is trying on all of our clothing. Perhaps he is planting spider eggs in our bathtub drain. Perhaps he is enjoying a cold, glass of cream in the hallway. Perhaps he just really loves cream.
“What would make you suspect such a thing?”
You might be wondering, and to that I again have both an abundance and a lack of answers. Perhaps I have a history of paranoid tendencies. Perhaps I see his mail truck parked in front of various homes along the block for extended periods of time and I can’t help but wonder. Perhaps I went to see IT this week. Perhaps the mailman is Pennywise. Perhaps he is in my closet right now.
These pertinent lines of inquiry have been taken into consideration and promptly discarded. Case closed. He is most definitely Pennywise, and he is most definitely in my closet right now.
You are probably thinking that I am a lunatic. And to that I have no adequate defence because yeah, I am and it is in my personal opinion one of my most useful and endearing qualities, second only to my vast knowledge of Eminem lyrics.
Oh, you know Pennywise? Name one of his songs
Hide yo’ kids, hide yo’ wife because Pennywise is here, to instil fear, and deliver your j-crew catalogues.
When you take the time to think about it more, I am confident you will come to agree with me. I know from personal experience, because I have spent an exorbitant amount of time meditating upon this very issue, and it only makes more sense with every additional second spent doing so.
I wouldn’t use the word “rewarding” to describe this obsessive rumination, because it wasn’t, nor would I recommend it in any capacity. Be that as it may, I have come to the conclusion that there are too many similarities between a clown that lures children down into the sewers to feast upon their fear, and the uniformed men who visit our homes everyday in our absence to deny.
The facts I have thus far accumulated in support of my theory are as follows:
- He parks his car outside of our house on different sides every day
- Sometimes he sits inside of the car for twenty-thirty minutes
- Sometimes he is not inside of the car for twenty-thirty minutes
- Where is he?!
- We almost never receive mail, so as a starting point for delivering mail our house is not the ideal spot
- Dogs do not like mailmen and I trust their judgement
- I never see him actually going up to houses to put mail in boxes
- The USPS requirements for employment are suspiciously lax
- The USPS employment board look like they know something sinister:
I mean seriously
It’s time we bring to light the silent epidemic impacting us all.