I first got hooked into this from an ad in a National Enquirer I picked up in a doctor's waiting room. I filled out the questionnaire, as it promised to return, "Unexpected insights into my character, life, and future."
What I got back was a pledge from someone who claimed to be a world-renowned psychic to help me realize my untapped potential, if I only sent money for a psychic remote reading. Since I know that if it seems too good to be true, it probably is, and I refrained from sending any money to Ms. Duvall.instead I went online, and found several reports on the Internet that all, unanimously, declared both her and the "National Psychic Research Institute" to be blatant frauds, perpetrated by persons of some cunning but no morals or ethics whatsoever.
In spite of my consigning the subsequent letters to our trashcan, ignoring them appears to do nothing but inflame the people responsible. To date, in five months I have received twelve letters, each one promising some new revelation and warning of some dire disaster that only Maria Duvall can protect me from, all for the discounted price of only...
My wife asked how we could get these people to stop sending us mail. I responded, entirely ad-lib, that the only way to get them to stop would be to hunt them down and kill them all. Unfortunately, the more I read about the shadowy people responsible for this plague of unwanted waste paper, the more I come to believe that I might have been absolutely right.
So, Bone—any time you're ready, bro, post me an e-mail, and we'll see if they like eating about eighty pounds of the crap they've been sending us! One of us can hold them, and the other can pound in another handful of paper, until they're all very, very full.
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