Monday, November 05, 2007

Mailbag Blues

One of the problems with living in the jungle is the unreliable postal service. The minute you pay one troupe of monkeys to deliver the mail, their rivals get jealous and start mugging the bag carriers and eating the letters. They’ll only stop their sabotage if you pay them as well, which annoys the mail monkeys. “Why should we haul postbags through the trees when they’re getting paid for doing nothing?” is their complaint. I’ve tried telling them the New Testament parable about the workmen in the vineyard, but it doesn’t impress them. Jesus is viewed with suspicion by monkeys – they see him as a colluder with business interests and the propertied classes.

I take no consolation from the fact that my hairless cousins are often similarly inconvenienced. Dr Whipsnade was recently in a huff about the British Royal Mail, which had suspended all services after its employees went on strike. Now you won’t find a millionaire more supportive of workers’ rights than the good doctor. When the fire fighters withdrew their labour, he made a point of visiting the picket lines and handing out packets of Doritos with a sour cream dip. However Larson Whipsnade is an avid reader of periodicals, and cannot tolerate interruptions to his weekly deliveries of The Mayfair Man, The Soho Squire and The Bloomsbury Tit (an ornithological newsletter). When I asked him about the pay and working conditions of British postal workers, he rapped his cane angrily against a sculpture in his drawing room.

“I’d like to tie their lazy hides to a dog sleigh!” he growled.

Yet whatever one says about the Royal Mail, they have many high horses to ride before matching the piously pigheaded postal workers of Canada. These moose-brained zealots are
refusing to deliver mail on the spurious grounds that it contains pornographic images. It is indicative of the dismal moral climate in Canada that mailmen now believe they are entitled to inspect their cargo and scour it for titillating pictures.

As it turned out, the supposedly obscene material was merely a pamphlet published by the Sex Party, a miniscule political grouping campaigning for the rights of prostitutes, voyeurs and couples addicted to dogging. Quite understandably, they are suing Canada Post and using the accompanying media interest to publicise their platform.

“We are the first political party dedicated exclusively to sex-positive issues,
declared party secretary Rufus Horn. Regular, energetic coitus purges the body of toxins and liberates the spirit from hostile and aggressive emotions.

This is an entirely bogus theory, as it happens. Lions mate continually when the females are in season and it doesn't alter their nature one iota. They snarl, grimace and bite before they do it, while they are doing it, and after they have done it. It is a common human fallacy to suppose that getting laid frequently can change you into a different person.

Yet much as I pooh-pooh their philosophy, I defend their right to disseminate it by way of post. It is not for the mailman to examine the documents he is entrusted to deliver and withhold the saucier items from distribution. That sort of officious meddling should be left to the Vice Squad.

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That wonderful graphic of the postman serving as mailbox is Japanese. We used to know a postman in Japan and he had this on his desk.

As a child, I always struggled with that parable. I know that it is just an allegory , but I always felt so sorry for those workers who'd been out in the heat all day long but were paid no more than the ones who'd goofed off most of the day and only put in a few hours of work. The notion that sinners are almost more beloved than the righteous is hardly an incentive to lead a life on the straight and narrow.
i'd be all for rising up against hated postal service (they always give my netflix to my neighbors), but then i see them walking around in their stupid little shorts wearing their stupid little hats, and i'm overcome with pity. i know. i don't know where it comes from either.
couples addicted to dogging. must go google that now.
Well you can't blame the postal workers for being bitter. I mean the milkmen and the satellite installation professionals are usually the ones getting all the nookie, aren't they?
My sympathies lie with the Sex Party - what an inconvenient position in which to find themselves. Most uncomfortable. ;-)
Sam, Problem-child bride is right: while the milkmen get hungry for it housewives in negligees, the postmen get angry little dogs and depiction of their craft by one Postman Pat. Not fair.
An extraordinary post to go with the cute pic right above, GB. :-)
We should support all these poor people that have to trudge around in the cold. Postmen, milkmen, dustmen, window cleaners, gas men, and Jehovahs Witnesses are all welcome at my door. Women don't do door to door much, they are better at party plan.

Millicent Tendency asked me to advertise the petition to oppose privatisation of European postal services petition SIGN HERE.
Male lions have sex mainly so they can indulge in their fetish for eating the offspring. I should know, I have to counsel the mother lions when they come crying that they are the victims of domestic abuse. Of course, the male lions can't help themselves, so you have to have some sympathy, yes?
Jesus is viewed with suspicion by monkeys – they see him as a colluder with business interests and the propertied classes.

Then how do they view the story of Jesus chastising the moneylenders in the temple? It seems the monkeys need to spend more time in Sunday school.

Mary: The sinner gets the same reward, but only after he has mended his ways. It's harder to be good if you're used to being bad.

Kara: Provoking pity is a well-known seduction technique. Some women are attracted to weeping men, others to prison inmates. You go for the doofus.

Jen: I'm surprised you haven't heard of it. California has the perfect climate for it.

Sam: Postmen come too early, don't they?

Kitty: I agree. They're being screwed.

Ms Robinson: Postmen don't get near housewives in America because the mailbox is too far from the door. Milkmen always sneak up to the side entrance, the sneaky bastards.

Suzy: I like to cover a wide range of topics in one post!

Lady Daphne: Window cleaners! Do you remember that George Formby song?

Mungo Borealis: I have no sympathy for them at all. Neither would you if they lived in your back garden. The females don't cry after their cubs get eaten. They flirt with baby-killers by sticking their fannies in their faces.

R. Sherman: Monkeys are very suspicious creatures. They suspect Jesus of being in the pocket of the fishing and timber interests.
I'm with the doctor on this one... and that illustration has filled me with joy. I might try that out on my postman (when he turns up).
Postman must be celibate because ours is the biggest miserable bastard to walk the earth.
One question re your well-received graphic: is that mail incoming or outgoing?
"Postmen come too early, don't they"

Ah but postmen often knock twice. It's a double-edged letter-opener, isn't it. If they don't get you ion the downstroke, they'll get you on the up.
I'm just really hoping that Rufus Horn is his real name. Wonderful.

Our posties rock, by the way. We've had the same ones for years and they are lovely.
My posty is great and so is Ruf's. He delivers all my naughty toys there. Id be terribly upset if he stopped because he thought it was morally wrong.
Miss Cheese: The ability to shit out letters is as impressive as sword-swallowing in its own way.

Ron Knee: Maybe you should try cheering him up by mailing erotic postcards to yourself.

Cooper: It's outgoing. I don't put up graphics depicting sexual assaults.

Sam: Yes, it doesn't matter how early they come if they know all the strokes.

Misssy: So you've forgiven them for going on strike, then?

Mrs Cake: I assume you've got a private P.O. Box to stop the wrong people from seeing your toys.
My postman refuses to deliver my post UNLESS it has pornography in it. Which it invariably does.

It is the only joy the old duffer gets, bless him.
i resent that. harumph.
I'm happy that the US Mail hasn't come up with any interesting regulations regarding what gets delivered. That's something...
Oooooh I thought - no t--s or b--s. How odd! And then I scrolled down.
Usually my envelopes arriving from the States look as if they have been tampered with.
I hate to take you to task GB but I am testament to the fact that having sex a lot makes me a happier person. Also, I don't snarl, grimace and bite after the act, which makes me a tad different from a lioness.
I cant agree more dear gorilla - postmen have no right to stick their snitch into other people's post. I used to hate sending postcards to my mum when on holiday because if the postman saw my mum, he would always say something like - "hear she's been bitten by a horse" or the like. That's when the mail was delivered on time, without mishap. That's why my uncle trained my late cat Tigger to wait in the bushes for the postman and attack on command whenever the postman tried to cram bills through the letterbox.
Come to think of it, maybe that's why they are striking...
I guess this will get the postmen and women all hot and bothered . I say the postmen and women should get to grips with this sticky issue, and stand firm against this smut.
Lord Likely: Your concern for the lower orders is touching m'lud. And I'm sure many maidservants would agree with me.

Kara: Your 'harump' reminds me of a Mel Brooks movie, but once again I can't remember which one.

Liv: The US has a strong porn lobby which would hammer them if they got any funny ideas.

Pi: Really? You should ask your American friends to stop sending you pornography.

Emmak: You'd be a great poster girl for the Sex Party. But do you snarl, grimace and bite before you've been seen to?

Mermaid: What a cheeky postman your mother has! I shouldn't be surprised if he was flirting with her, the rascal! Cats' paws are too good for him!

Charlie: Well put. If the smut is sticky, they have made it so.
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Mr Bananas I sympathise with Dr Whipsnade , my own periodicals Mamouth Hooters (a classic car magazine ...ahem) and Bored Housewives Rubber Review (Useful household items) have been simularly disrupted .
Postmen by nature seem to be a disgruntled lot , maybe the sex party are correct and they all need a good shagging , I shall experiment with my local postie and see if an early morning strumping improves the delivery rate
Couldn't you get other jungle beasts to deal with your post Mr. Bananas how about sloths for example? Also - I have say the sour cream dip is the worse for doritos, the hot salsa is nicer.

But where would be if our ISPs refused to deliver porn ? Hay Mr B.?? Hay ? Hay??
But do you snarl, grimace and bite before you've been seen to
You betcha...I am like a gorilla with a cactus up her arse before I have been thoroughly worked over.

Me and Ciccolina could start up the Sex Party again. Whatever happened to that political heavyweight?
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Mr Bananas
I have always had a soft spot for our posties
They tend to be cheery blokes, probably due to all the credit cards that they have stolen that morning.
What I really hate about the bastards is the rubber bands.
It took me a while to work out why I kept finding red rubber bands on my path,then I saw the **** do it.
So next day I waited for him.
Soon as he came up the drive I stuck it on my thumb and flicked it at his head and told him how I would be grateful if he never did it again.
I suppose this makes me seem a trifle eccentric.
Mariano: Hello, my friend. Good of you to drop by.

Beast: Not a bad idea, but perhaps you should offer him a cup of tea first.

Mutley: There's no need to keep haying me, I got it the first time. I have little time for porn and have condemned the hard stuff on many occasions. A hot sauce tastes better inside a tortilla.

Emma: La Cicciolina is raising her son and campaigning for good causes. Did you read my post about her?

The Anon: You seem to be in two minds about your name.

The Hitch: Perhaps you should have put a egg cup on your garden wall for the postmen to deposit their rubber bands in. You were too quick to flick, in my view.
Is the jungle anywhere near Australia? Our postal system tends to be tedious.
Rufus Horn? I don't believe it.
I went to school with a Rufus Horn. There surely can't be two. Is that you? Roof? It's me, Ack!
Rosanna: Kangaroos would make great postmen with their pouches.

Dr Maroon: He wants you to join the Sex Party and go canvassing door-to-door.
Mr BAnanas my postie is a lady (I think)
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