Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Let your fingers do the walking.

Hello nice phone book delivery people. I’m glad you’re employed and I’m sorry it is so cold, but I am wondering if instead of dropping off the thick polyvinyl bag full of a gazillion yellow pieces of paper I’ll never look at on my front porch, you could maybe just walk around out back and put it back in the alley? I mean, just to save me the steps and all? (Best if you remove the bag, put it in the gray garbage can, then set all the yellow bound pieces of paper in the recycle bin, please. Remove the magnets from the plumbing company, too. They go in the gray can.)

Say, do you have one of those suggestion boxes at work? Because I was thinking that you could tell the people you work for that a few years back, before he invented recycling, Al Gore invented the internet. Which is just stock-plumb full up with telephone numbers. I can't really think of anyone under the age of 72-1/2 that uses your “book” anymore. Unless they’re too short to reach the dinner table. I know it's sad, but I think it's alright to let this idea go the way of the brontosaurus. Okay, well that’s about it. Have a good day now, ‘preciate it.


  1. If this works, please let me know. I must get 40 of these a month, in two languages. If they feel they must leave me a phone book each and every time they drive by my house, the least they could do is leave me the book I am capable of reading before tossing it into the recycle bin.

  2. I like to display my manly strangth by tearing them in half.
    Another fun thing to do is see how many of your friends will bring them in from the porch in a twelve month span.



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