There is no "giver backer" in the mail game!

Do you hear those drums in the distance?

Those are my legions marching towards your innocent and undeserving mailbox...

Think of Helms Deep...but there is no Gandalf, Eomer, and the Rohirrim to save the day.

DOOOOOOOOOM!

Nothing good ever happens when you can hear the drums.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LNV2EEz_DUA

As a sidenote, I hope I'm online and on vent when he opens his mailbox again.

How yet resolves the governor of the mailbox?
This is the latest parle we will admit;
Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves;
Or like to men proud of destruction
Defy us to our worst: for, as I am a soldier,
A name that in my thoughts becomes me best,
If I begin the battery once again,
I will not leave the half-achieved mailbox
Till in her ashes she lie buried.
The gates of mercy shall be all shut up,
And the flesh'd soldier, rough and hard of heart,
In liberty of bloody hand shall range
With conscience wide as hell, mowing like grass
Your fresh-fair stamps and your flowering letters.
What is it then to me, if impious war,
Array'd in flames like to the prince of fiends,
Do, with his smirch'd complexion, all fell feats
Enlink'd to waste and desolation?
What is't to me, when you yourselves are cause,
If your pure packages fall into the hand
Of hot and forcing violation?
What rein can hold licentious wickedness
When down the hill he holds his fierce career?
We may as bootless spend our vain command
Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil
As send precepts to the leviathan
To come ashore. Therefore, you men of mailbox,
Take pity of your boxes and of your parcels,
Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command;
Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace
O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds
Of heady murder, spoil and villany.
If not, why, in a moment look to see
The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand
Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking correspondence;
Your postcards taken by the silver beards,
And their most reverend writing dash'd to the walls,
Your naked junk mail spitted upon pikes,
Whiles the mad cartons with their howls confused
Do break the clouds, as did the wives of receptacles
At Herod's bloody-hunting postal employees.
What say you? will you yield, and this avoid,
Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy'd?

I have no idea WTF is going on. Which is no surprise, given who started this thread...

... If I don't log in to Frenial in 30 days, all the mail that got sent to her will be automatically returned. That sounds like an equitable solution....

I know all of your toons names...

Contemplate this on the Tree of Woe.

Therefore, you men of mailbox,
Take pity of your boxes and of your parcels

I am particularly happy with this...

See, Fren? Sending mail back to people WILL bite you in the ass.