Message on postcard:
Hey Josh —
Mase on, bro.
Mike
A conglomeration of things
Message on postcard:
Hey Josh —
Mase on, bro.
Mike
Message on postcard:
Hey Witzke — Sometimes I worry I’m gonna end up like this guy riding a log with an owl in hot pursuit. What am I even doing?
Message on postcard:
Jesse — I am starting a new life above the Arctic Circle, where I now live on an iceberg. Last week, seeking wisdom and guidance, I dove to the bottom of the sea. There I met a meditating guru, and I asked him what philosophy a man ought hold. He said:
“No matter what the odds are this time, nothing’s going to stand in my way. This flame in my heart — and a long-lost friend — gives every dark street a light at the end. Standing tall, on the wings of my dream; rise and fall, on the wings of my dream.”
Then I realized he was quoting the theme song to Perfect Strangers, and I returned to the surface.
Message on postcard:
Nicci — Your Congress bill is overdue. Please remit $10,000 to the United States Treasury in order to avoid automatic secession of your house from the United States of America. Benefits of inclusion within the Union include many popular Constitutional amendments and our world-renowned annual fireworks blowout. Stop and think. Do you really want to live in anarchy? Of course not, don’t be stupid. Act now to retain your affiliation with the greatest country in the world.
Message on postcard:
Hey Chris — When is it best to have events? All the time? Or never? I think it’s best to have events all the time, every day. After all, if you’re not having an event, what are you having? Well, I’ll tell you what I’m having right now: A cow, man. I was just watching Fox News, and I learned that Obama never wants to have events for America. If anyone proposes an event, he wants death panels to kill it. Then today on Sean Hannity’s radio show I learned about the “grand compromise” Obama is willing to settle for. He wants to socialize all events! Everyone gets to come, but only for a little while! God, he makes me sick to my stomach. America, when did we lose our way?