I have purchased stamps a few times from the USPS website, so now I guess I’m subscribed to their magazine, Philatelic. It’s a quarterly publication for stamp collectors. I suppose I understand why. On the USPS site I got stamps for our wedding, I ordered some awesome Star Trek ones a while back, and every year around Christmas time I pick some non-Christmas specific ones because not everyone I know celebrates that specific holiday.
But the main reason as to why USPS is like, “Yeah, this one obviously loves some stamp collecting” is because they had some spooky ones a while back, and I bought a bunch of those along with with a framed set. I did this because I really love spooky things, not because I really love stamps. The spooky things just happened to be on stamps. But if I died and someone from the USPS had to give my eulogy, through the inevitable tears, they would be like, “She just really fucking loved stamps.” And yeah they’re cursing at my funeral, it’s an upsetting time and you can’t expect someone to hold back. They just lost a fellow stamp collector, can you just let someone grieve in their own way, Margaret!
I’ve actually gone to a Stamp and Postcard show as a child with my mother – and let me tell you, it was just as riveting as it sounds. I mean, it can be neat to see an old postcard of how a place used to look. I do like the historical angle of that. But uh, besides the hobby not being my personal jam, the people aren’t really my “crowd” – I know it and they know it. Maybe things have changed since I was a kid. I knit and that scene has definitely gotten more fun than it was “back in the day.” Honestly, there could be a goth subculture for stamps and postcards of bats and old cemeteries and while it would definitely make me pause, it just isn’t my thing.
Them: “Hi, can I help you find something specific?”
Me: “Do you have anything to do with death, bats, or ravens?”
Them: “…b…betty?”
Me: “Crows are fine…they look very similar…Is…there…”
Them: “Betty!”
Them2: “What, Barbara?! Oh dear, hi there.”
Them1: “Betty, she’s looking for um…”
Me: “Anything to do with death, bats, and ravens. Thank you.”
Them2: “Oh my, I don’t believe we have any of that here do we, Barbara?”
Them1: “No, I don’t think so. You might want to check with Martin, he has some with cats on them.”
Sending a postcard is weird, because everyone can read your message. Hey mail-carrier, read about my nana’s time in the Adirondacks and her dance lessons when things got real weird and grind-y when all she wanted to do was learn the Cha-Cha. On the other hand, would a mail carrier call the cops if they saw something crazy or ignore it because the entire world is fucking cuckoo bananas at this point? I kind of want to start sending crazy-ass postcards from now on.
Aunt Helen,
Canada is great and everyone here is super nice! A little too nice. Met a guy named Hank at a diner who I’m fairly certain is an inside man to the maple syrup reserve. Have followed him for 2 days. He’s pretending to work at a Tim Horton’s, but I know he’s just trying to throw me off the trail. I will find the maple syrup reserve. Please let the president know, I won’t let him down.
This works on multiple levels if you haven’t given Aunt Helen a heads up. It’s a win for everyone! You know why? You’re gonna need some goddamn postcard stamps and you don’t want just any stamps. What if they happen to have some with maple syrup? You won’t know unless you check online, right? Jesus, you’d think I work for them, but I don’t. Maybe I am a philatelist – which I had to look up to see what the word is for someone who is super psyched about stamps – but I think I’m more psyched about the larger picture of a joke, and also I just like sending cards. And why not like the stamps you’re required to put on the damn things, you know?
Anyway, I’m like crazy excited about my postcard idea now and I have lot of weird postcards I need to send.