A delivery truck brings a little pile of garbage to my house almost every day of the week. I gather up the daily piles of garbage and put them in a large container until it’s time for a different service to take it all away.
Yes, I have a garbage delivery service and a garbage pickup service. I’m just the middleman. I would like to say that my role in all of this feels life-affirming. But it doesn’t.
The garbage delivery service sometimes goes by the name United States Postal Service. The garbage itself goes by the name junk mail. I don’t think there is legal way to stop the garbage deliveries. I think every home in my country is legally required to have some sort of mailbox or mail slot. I would look it up but I use all of my free time prepped the incoming garbage for the outbound leg of its trip.
The other day I had an idea for cutting out the middleman (me). What if I forward all of my incoming mail to my local garbage dump’s address? That way the Post Office could deliver my garbage to its final resting place without experiencing the purgatory of my kitchen.
I think this could work.
Sometimes, hidden within the little piles of garbage that come to my house, I will spot a letter that looks important for one reason or another. That’s why all of you need to join me by forwarding your mail directly to your local garbage dumps. If we all do it, people will lose hope that their letters are getting through. As a general rule, you can’t experience progress until someone else loses hope. So let’s speed that along, okay?
My new book is How to Fail at Almost Everything and Still Win Big: Kind of the Story of My Life. It’s my best work.