My mailbox has been approved by the Postmaster General. I'm not really sure why it needs approval, particularly at such a high level. It's only slightly more advanced than a waste basket. Slap a door and a flag on a waste basket, boom, you have a mailbox!
Why is this guy a general, anyway? I think this power has gone to his head if he has to go around approving mailboxes. If he wants to approve things, maybe he should take a closer look at some of the people they hire. Or even those crummy little trucks they drive around in.
I guess this guy is so flush with power that he only allows "real" mail to be left in these boxes. Now I get all kinds of fliers and crap stuck in the flag and tacked to the post. Why can't these people just leave this junk in my mailbox? Are they afraid they'll be arrested by some marauding Postmaster Corporals or Privates?
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This is very similar to the way I feel about the Salvation Army where they have a regime of military titles. Always felt strange that they wear uniforms that convey the seriousness of their missions. I don't for a minute fall for that cheesy smile as they build up their biceps by doing curls with that bell during the holidays. They are planning to take over! Wouldn't be surprised to see them overtake the United Way group by mauling them with their secret Kettle tanks one day. What do they do the rest of the year? Plotting their takeover, no doubt. Mark my words, don't trust them unless you prefer to be standing out in the cold during Christmas!
I think the Salvation Army is planning an attack upon the Knights of Columbus. Please don't confuse them with the Nights of Columbus which refers to those wild first few days in the so-called "new world". Apparently Chris was a major partier. Anyway, I don't want to delve too far into his private affairs but you get the general idea.
Are you sure you're not confusing them with the Knights in White Satin? They used to play against the St. Louis Blues, but quit when they got too Moody.
They only got moody when they had to shake their booty.
Do you ever wonder how bands work their whole lives for that one big break, and end up as only a one hit wonder?
Maybe they go on to be Pilots. Or do a Magic act.
Never believe it's not so!
I just figured that they drift out to sea. Maybe they'll find an island with a shady tree.
We had joy. We had fun. We had seasons in the sun.
what a pity, you don't understand
You take me by the heart when you take me by the hand
I can't wait to hear what else you've got.
I know there's something going on here . . . but I can't put my finger on it
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