My Apologies To All The Trees That Gave Their Lives

Cannot. Find. Top. Of. Desk. Must. Grunt. Out. Statements. A la. William. Shatner. Must. Clean. Off. Desk. To. Think. Straight.

Aaaah. There we are. An hour and seven different emails to seven different charity organizations later, I am free of clutter.

Seriously. Who the hell authorized the selling of my name to every blasted charity under the sun? So I gave twenty five bucks to a Native American charity years ago. Does that mean that I have to receive a letter a day, some with return address labels, some with whole sets of Christmas cards in them asking for money for the rest of my life?

I’m pretty sure there’s a service out there that will tell these guys to scram for you, but I can’t for the life of me remember the name of it. I think Brad Pitt once did a spot on Oprah for it. Was it Brad Pitt? Or some other hunky celebrity? Well, a lot of good his looks did me because I can’t remember his face or the website. Just his pecs. Under his white t-shirt. Yup. That’s pretty much all I remember.

A quick Google search reveals the usual tips for making junk mail go away.

I’m not a penny pinching ogre or anything. It’s just that I give to my LOCAL charities. And any yahoo willing to tape a REAL AMERICAN DOLLAR to the freaking ask letter to entice you to match his contribution CANNOT be hurting all that bad, right?