What is so special about mail? Why do I care about it in the least? Why do I come home every day and approach my mailbox as if a bar of gold and a basket of hookers were waiting inside? I don't care about it, yet I am drawn to it, and it is the one part of my day that is pure, blissful childhood joy.
Today I got two movies from Netflix. Tomorrow I'll get some t-shirts. Saturday I'll get absolutely nothing, but I'll still be excited when I check the mailbox. Why? Ninety percent of what I get is credit card offers, bills, and coupons for stores that only a ninety-year-old woman would visit. If I'm lucky, once a week I'll get coupons from a bad pizza place offering me 25 cents off the normal price.
Is it the suspense, the fact that what's inside is unknown? If that's the case, then why aren't I excited to go to my car every morning? A hobo could have stuffed a corpse inside. What about work? A hobo could stuff a corpse inside somebody else's car in my coverage area, and I could get to take pictures. These wouldn't be pleasant surprises, but the things I get in the mail every day aren't pleasant either.
Especially the plain envelopes from Burbank, CA. I swear to God, that's the cruelest trick in the book. It looks like some interesting, important letter, and then I open it and find pictures of girls peeing in each other's mouths. Then the people checking mail next to me in my apartment building think I'm a freak.
But still, I'm excited to check the mail. It's not just me. Everybody gets excited by mail, whether they admit it or not. You get excited about the possibility of mail, Stephen Hawking gets excited about mail, and the president gets excited about it. The United States Postal Service is easily the greatest publicly-funded group ever devised by humans. For a small portion of your taxes each year, you get a surprise waiting for you in a metal box. It's like the final showcase for "Let's Make a Deal", except you don't care if you get the dunce prize, because tomorrow will bring a new opportunity.
There needs to be more joyful systems like this, but sadly, the joy of receiving mail is hard to duplicate in other areas. PBS is pretty rock solid when it comes to predictable content. You could throw in porn once a week, but that doesn't bring the same level of anticipation. You'd be disappointed too often. The mail surprises you once a day, six days a week. The only way television could provide that kind of delightful tension is if "60 Minutes" had Andy Rooney playing Russian Roulette every night.
*click* Well, that's it for tonight, folks. Tune in tomorrow, when I try the last remaining chamber. It's sure to be a bang!
If "60 Minutes" would like to use my idea, they can do so for free. No payment to me is required. All I ask is that I be reminded when the shows are broadcast, so I don't miss it.
If someone out there has my address, for God's sake, send me more mail. The system needs to be supported. Just don't send me photos of girls peeing on each other. That's all I ask.
