Wednesday, August 31, 2005

I've complained about the Minneapolis Star Tribune newspaper before, and today I'm going to be more specific. I HATE my carrier. I abhor him. I loath the rat bastard. I wish his parents had never procreated, because they have produced a special breed of idiot that never should have been allowed to exist in the first place, yet alone raised in a heated house.

Below we have a picture of the number of duplicates of a newspaper insert I received on Sunday.

If you don't want to do the counting, I'll do it for you. There's ten. Ten of the same senseless ad for a satellite TV service. Was my Best Buy ad in there? No. Apparently someone else got ten of those. We were missing a lot of ads, and this isn't the first time.

My paper is not delivered by a 13-year old kid on a BMX bike, it's put together and delivered by an adult. An adult who seriously deserves to have his coconut cracked open and mixed with a nice Bacardi Dark Rum and fed back to him with a rusty grain shovel.

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