Pheroze

I came home today and checked my mail. Not email or missives from my trained flock of rabid carrier pigeons- for the former I bear the affliction of being tied to a ‘smart’ phone and the latter died 2 years ago and/or live only in my mind- but my physical mail. Stuff printed on 12th generation papyrus reeds and beyond.

Usually this is a pretty mundane act wherein I simultaneously curse the biller for not enabling digital opt-in and thank them for giving my shredder a new playmate.

But today was different.

The envelope had a hand written address. At first I thought, oh damn, they know I’m the Nigerian prince who can’t access his inheritance- time to move. But no, this was nice and legit.

I had a received a really lovely and considerate letter from one of the winners of a CD copy of Crows Into Swine on the giveaway contest MetalSucks.net had in December.

Here it is:

Vaughn. You rule.

That’s fucking righteous on so many levels. It’s just so great to take messages and convey things out of the digital realm sometimes. Thanks so much Vaughn- you made my week. I’ll be sending you thank you note back with a little something extra Crows Into Swine related that I have here. And I have no clue how you figured out Parasympathomimetic Thrombophlebitis; I can’t even type it without referring to it 15 times for spelling.

And thanks again to MetalSucks.net- you and your readers are fantastic.