Every day, at about 4:00 in the afternoon, a man comes to my building and delivers the mail. Except Sunday. This is hardly an unusual situation. I believe that most of my readers also get mail on a daily basis. Except Sunday.

However, I do not write this editorial to herald the United States Postal Service, nor to criticize them (although I could find many a reason, if given the opportunity). Unlike most of my complaints at the world, this one cannot be pinpointed to any one individual (read: Dear John) or organization (read: America OFFline). Rather, it has to do with the ever increasing amount of junk mail I get.

Follow me, please, because this is not your typical "I hate the magazines" or "I hate the credit card applications" complaint. I have a detailed story. In itself, it is boring and trivial. In the context of Grumble and my canon of work therein, it is also boring and trivial. In other words, it fits right in.

Let me begin by telling of this very strange letter I received today. In an envelope addressed to me, I found the following letter (for your appreciation of authenticity, I have left it totally unchanged):

First of all, I never received the first mailer. Or, if I did, I didn't notice it, and I threw it away. However, if I was intrigued enough to open this envelope (and no doubt the first mailer was in a similar envelope), and as I am quite consistent in my day-to-day decisions in regards to the culling of mail, I conclude, with minimal doubt, that I never received the first mailer.

However, had I received the first mailer, my new found confusion stems not from the original mailer, but rather from the second -- which was sent in an effort to clear such confusion.

You see, had the first mailer caught my eye, one could conclude that, at the time, I was in need of facial plastic surgery. And from that standpoint, this second mailer simply reiterates this doctor's specialty in facial plastic surgery. Excellent.

I suppose that I might have not been interested in facial plastic surgery, and thus discarded the first mailer. However, upon receipt of the second mailer, my theoretical need for otolaryngology could now be fulfilled, as this doctor has explicity stated that he is also a specialist in such a field.

So far, I don't recognize confusion as a situation I've had to face with regards to my opinions of the first mailer.

And yet they think I might be confused.

But wait! Let us say that I know Dr. Kraus, or perhaps Dr. Kraus' work. And I know that he specializes in otolaryngology. Now when I receive the first mailer, I am possibly confused, because I am led to believe that he specializes in facial plastic surgery. Yet isn't facial plastic surgery a subset of otolaryngology? So isn't a mailer that says "Dr. Kraus specializes in facial plastic surgery" fully accurate? If I am to believe this second mailer, then there was evidently nothing false in the first mailer, and I must believe it as well.

I am still confused only by the second mailer, not the first. I still wonder why I needed the second mailer.

Ah, perhaps I need it because Dr. Kraus looks to expand his patient base beyond those requiring mere facial plastic surgery. Perhaps he wants to make sure that those patients requiring other forms of otolaryngology are included.

Forgive me if I'm wrong, but if you need something like head or neck surgery, are you really going to respond to a mailer? Especially when it's followed shortly by another mailer explaining an inaccuracy in something as basic as what this particular doctor does? Please. I paraphrase and misquote a popular song when I say, I don't know much about otolaryngology. My dictionary goes from otiose (futile) to Ottowa (the capital of Canada) with nothing in between [insert dumb joke about "useless Canadians" here]. However, I am led to believe that it has something to do with the larynx, which is in the throat, which is not something we can buy over-the-counter medicine for. I am therefore led to believe that otolaryngology in any form is fairly serious, and once again, I do not sign up for a doctor through an inaccurate mailer whet it concerns something as serious an my head and my neck. No way.

Let us also address the fact that this second mailer was typed on January 30, 2001. I received the second memo on February 12, 2001, nearly two weeks later. One might have assumed that a mailer of this kind is deemed urgent by the office. I mean, to correct a rather trivial error involving the definition of a word no one is going to know anyway -- well, if it matters that much, why the hell does it take twelve days to reach me? If they really care, they should have FedExed the second mailing. Or at least it should have gone out on the day it was typed, which was a Tuesday, and thus reached my mailbox on Friday, February 2. But no, it took well over a week longer to reach me. Imagine the business Dr. Kraus must have lost from all the people needing an otolaryngologist, and skipping past Dr. Kraus' name in the directory because they had received a mailing that said he was only into facial plastic surgery. Poor doctor.

In addition, there are certain elements of the grammar and word choice in the second mailer of which I do not approve. To begin, let us look at the opening sentence:

Right at the start, there is a problem. "This letter is to correct..." suggests that the letter has been given an imperative order to correct something. "Letter, go correct this error!" as if the letter was a living being. A maitre d' of a restaurant might divvy up the evening's chores by saying, "John is to fill the water glasses, Lisa is to put out the napkins," and so on. But what do they mean, "This letter is to correct an error…"? My answer: they mean that the information given within the letter is to make the reader(s) aware of 1) a mistake in a past letter; and 2) the information which corrects that mistake. And through that assumption (can you find another?), it is not the letter itself doing the business, but rather the reader's comprehension of the content.

Further, the writer concludes the first sentence with his third prepositional phrase (that's an awful lot, methinks), which is "by our office." Scan down to the bottom, and find the signature of the letter. It has been signed by "The Office of Dr. Kraus." Since the office wrote the letter, wouldn't the appropriate third prepositional phrase actually be "by us"? I think it would. To say "by our office" suggests that the letter was not written by the office as a whole, but by members of the office. One could argue that "members of" is implied at the signature. But I have learned through continuing errors in the mail I receive from these otolaryngology specialists not to trust everything I read.

In addition, the definition of otolaryngology given in the letter includes otolaryngology itself. This is something of a paradox. I believe this is not the first incident of such a paradox, as there seem to be other occasional such episodes of circular logic in dictionary definitions. But usually, when a definition is somewhat self-referential, it at least uses a different form of the word. Perhaps, "...otolaryngology, which includes facial plastic surgery, head and neck surgery, otology and other otolaryngological studies." At least then it's not totally circular. One could get out and look up a different word. And without a conclusive definition of Dr. Kraus' specialty in medicine, I determine once again that I am confused by the second mailer and not the first.

Junk mail has it's value. I give it less than a hay-penny, but value any way you slice it. I don't understand why I need to get credit card applications from banks with whom I already have credit cards. I don't understand why sometimes, junk mail arrives at my address, but with the names of other members of my family, some of whom live as far away as say, another state. (Yes, oddly enough, my mother gets mail at my address -- how do they do that? They must have my address and the names of all my family members. I never get mail for random names at my address, only the names of both my parents and both my sisters. And me.) I don't understand why, when I order an ink cartridge from the MacConnection catalog, I am suddenly subscribed to three weekly catalogs of differing sizes and quality all pertaining to things Macintosh. I don't understand why anyone in their right mind would send me a trial issue of "Baby" magazine. I don't understand why the Gap sends me catalogs, when I've never ordered anything from the Gap (since they don't have a big and tall section). I don't understand why I need a new CD of America Online every fucking week of my life!

As I've said before, however, I am a perfect citizen. I know where to find the goods I need, and I know how to obtain them. I do not need junk mail. I can do it on my own.

And I haven't even mentioned telemarketers yet.