Well, this might have to be quick because I have to pee like crazy, but do y'all remember my mailman?
Remember? My mailman? Prancing little guy who verbally assaulted me and who I punched and tried to capture in self-defense? I knew you'd remember. I believe he was last mentioned in an entry titled something like "The worst day ever." Check it out if you want to know just what sort of snake we're dealing with here.
Anyway, he's up to his old tricks again, his tricks being assault, rat-like treachery, and trickery.
Our relationship became a bit strained after the last incident. He still brings me mail, and I still wait by the mailbox, but there's suspicion there. Suspicion and ill-will. Mostly on his part, I would say.
Now, before you hear otherwise from some nancy public servant, I want to clear something up for you. I know for a fact that it is illegal to damage or destroy someone's mail. Don't ask me how I know, it's just something I used to do. So, obviously, it would be the very opposite of illegal (legal, or super-legal) to try to protect the mail. And that's just what I've been trying to do (this is the point of contention between the nancies and I). Since "the incident," I have been putting mousetraps, and sometimes rattraps*, in my mailbox. This is to protect from mice, and sometimes rats, because mice, and rats, love paper and glue. They love to eat it, and they love to make nests out of it, and both of these actions count as damaging or destroying the mail. So I am acting under the authority of the super-legal. My mailman, apparently, has misinterpreted these actions as attempts to damage or destoy him (which, as far as I know, isn't even against the law). The snake reported me, and before I know it, there are some gentlemen with badges and sportcoats hanging around my mailbox, fiddling with my defense against mice, and sometimes rats (which, as far as I know, is protected by the second amendment).
As soon as they saw me, they came barging into my porch, full of questions. After many "What do you know about this"s and a few "Your mail carrier is very concerned"s it was eventually brought up that my traps were found to be covered in poison. Well, DUH!! I made it myself, after all.
I explained all of that to them, and they suddenly got these "Oh, I'm super important and scary" faces, and started telling me what a serious situation it was.
I told then that I knew it was a serious situation, because I take my art (poison making) very seriously myself.
They said that the mailbox was not the appropriate place for me to be practicing my "hobby."
I said that it wasn't just a hobby, it was art, and therefore they were oppressing both beauty and free speech by not letting me display it.
That's when the whole "poison isn't art" debate started up. You've all heard it before, I'm sure, so I won't go over it entirely, but let it suffice to say that the old "If you ate the damn Mona Lisa you'd probably die, not to mention Michaelangelo's David, but they're still considered art" argument was used by me, and it was entirely over their heads. And when I offered them each a drink, all they did was call a squad car and basically run away crying. That's what's wrong with law enforcement these days.
I was able to barter my way out of the situation with the uniformed officer (he accepted the drinks, along with some home made mace), but the whole experience left me feeling mighty sore, and even less inclined to forgive me mailman. I swear, when the ground thaws enough for me to dig some tiger-pits in my yard, that man is in trouble.
I don't mean tiger-pits literally, of course. I don't even know where I could get my hands on a real tiger.
Man, I don't think I have to pee anymore.
*Did you know "rattrap" spelled backwards is "rattrap?"
Remember? My mailman? Prancing little guy who verbally assaulted me and who I punched and tried to capture in self-defense? I knew you'd remember. I believe he was last mentioned in an entry titled something like "The worst day ever." Check it out if you want to know just what sort of snake we're dealing with here.
Anyway, he's up to his old tricks again, his tricks being assault, rat-like treachery, and trickery.
Our relationship became a bit strained after the last incident. He still brings me mail, and I still wait by the mailbox, but there's suspicion there. Suspicion and ill-will. Mostly on his part, I would say.
Now, before you hear otherwise from some nancy public servant, I want to clear something up for you. I know for a fact that it is illegal to damage or destroy someone's mail. Don't ask me how I know, it's just something I used to do. So, obviously, it would be the very opposite of illegal (legal, or super-legal) to try to protect the mail. And that's just what I've been trying to do (this is the point of contention between the nancies and I). Since "the incident," I have been putting mousetraps, and sometimes rattraps*, in my mailbox. This is to protect from mice, and sometimes rats, because mice, and rats, love paper and glue. They love to eat it, and they love to make nests out of it, and both of these actions count as damaging or destroying the mail. So I am acting under the authority of the super-legal. My mailman, apparently, has misinterpreted these actions as attempts to damage or destoy him (which, as far as I know, isn't even against the law). The snake reported me, and before I know it, there are some gentlemen with badges and sportcoats hanging around my mailbox, fiddling with my defense against mice, and sometimes rats (which, as far as I know, is protected by the second amendment).
As soon as they saw me, they came barging into my porch, full of questions. After many "What do you know about this"s and a few "Your mail carrier is very concerned"s it was eventually brought up that my traps were found to be covered in poison. Well, DUH!! I made it myself, after all.
I explained all of that to them, and they suddenly got these "Oh, I'm super important and scary" faces, and started telling me what a serious situation it was.
I told then that I knew it was a serious situation, because I take my art (poison making) very seriously myself.
They said that the mailbox was not the appropriate place for me to be practicing my "hobby."
I said that it wasn't just a hobby, it was art, and therefore they were oppressing both beauty and free speech by not letting me display it.
That's when the whole "poison isn't art" debate started up. You've all heard it before, I'm sure, so I won't go over it entirely, but let it suffice to say that the old "If you ate the damn Mona Lisa you'd probably die, not to mention Michaelangelo's David, but they're still considered art" argument was used by me, and it was entirely over their heads. And when I offered them each a drink, all they did was call a squad car and basically run away crying. That's what's wrong with law enforcement these days.
I was able to barter my way out of the situation with the uniformed officer (he accepted the drinks, along with some home made mace), but the whole experience left me feeling mighty sore, and even less inclined to forgive me mailman. I swear, when the ground thaws enough for me to dig some tiger-pits in my yard, that man is in trouble.
I don't mean tiger-pits literally, of course. I don't even know where I could get my hands on a real tiger.
Man, I don't think I have to pee anymore.
*Did you know "rattrap" spelled backwards is "rattrap?"
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