June 3rd, 2007


Greater Love Hath No Man

I should probably mention in advance that this post may look like one of those jokes that starts out with "A horse walks into a bar" and then commences to go on for approximately three hours with a twisty, turny kind of tale-telling that makes you think it's building up for a fantastic punchline, but instead ends up with something like, "Don't be silly: horses don't drink beer" or similar.

That said, let's give it a go, shall we?

For this to make sense, I'll have to go back a bit and tell you something about my Dad. Dad donates to several charities as a matter of course. Because of this, he's on the List™ for potentially every non-profit or charitable group ever invented. Now, it used to be that the way charities would try to guilt you out of your cash was that they would send you a set of free address labels along with a note that said something on the order of, "The poor, blind, amputee three-year-olds who are starving in Upper Badhobbsia want you to have these address labels as their special gift to you. However, sending you these labels means that little Sudrika will not be able to eat for a month and will probably be beaten severely for such extravagance so we hope that you'll use one of them to stick on this envelope when you send your generous donation."
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