Thomas Wictor

As I’ve mentioned before, there’s a theft ring in the United States Postal Service. It’s based in New York. The American Postal Workers Union, AFL-CIO, negotiated rules that when mail from a foreign country goes missing, American postal inspectors can’t look for it. Instead, the country from which the mail originated has to investigate. The only way the foreign country’s inspectors can do that is to send a query.

“What happened to Thomas Wictor’s piece of mail from Rome, number RA734255750IT?”

“Dunno. Sorry.”

I’ve discovered that the thieves use X-ray machines to see what’s inside the envelopes. The National Security Agency spies on us and lies about it; the Internal Revenue Service unfairly targets political groups it doesn’t like and lies about it; and the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives ignores injunctions that prevent it from carrying out raids to collect the names of customers. It’s all about lists.

There’s no doubt that my name and address are on a list at the Sort Facility in New York. The only pieces of mail that go missing are the irreplaceable photos and postcards. This latest one really hurts.

Chinese soldiers of the Qing Dynasty, 1917. I planned to use the image in my book Assault Troops of World War I: The Central, Allied, and Neutral Powers. Now it’s gone. Some postal worker with a giant ass and atherosclerosis stole it and sold it to an equally obese, unscrupulous collector with terrible body odor. I paid $760.00 for it. However, it was priceless.

The problem of theft by postal workers is so widespread that the USPS created a generic “apology” bag in which they stick empty envelopes.

Actually, it’s beyond unacceptable. It’s a federal offense that carries five years in prison for EACH PIECE OF MAIL STOLEN.

No, they don’t care. We’re urged to report each theft to the Postal Service. I did for a while, but they did nothing. They just confirmed that my mail had disappeared.

I’ve spoken to postal workers on the phone, and they’re utterly indifferent, often amused. What happens is that when you join any kind of group, your loyalty is transferred to your new “brothers and sisters.” The people stealing my mail are looking at decades in the federal pen, so their slimy “siblings” won’t turn them in.

Look at Postmaster General Patrick R. Donahoe. He’s spent thirty-five years in the US Postal Service.

The only thing he cares about is the next bite of fatty food he’s going to shove into his cakehole. That photo was taken at a black-tie dinner. He probably gobbled down 3500 calories in food. Add the wine, and it was 4500 calories, easily.

So what I’ve done is gone completely paperless. My plan is to starve the postal service. I pay all my bills electronically, never send letters, and use couriers whenever possible. With any luck the US Postal Service will be dead in less than ten years.

Here’s how far we’ve come. Airmail pilot W.C. Hopson, suited up for winter flying in his open-cockpit biplane, sometime in the early 1920s.

To borrow the Cardinal Ghost’s favorite phrase, don’t you want to marry him? I don’t care if you’re the most hetero of heteros. You could be so manly that your penis has a penis. Doesn’t matter. That is one hot piece of American male. He’s what we used to represent.

“You want me to go up in a wood-and-linen contraption and fly over the Rocky Mountains in a snowstorm? Sure. I’ll do it. Put a cigarette lighter in the dashboard, a holder for my bottle of bourbon, and an extra seat for a blonde, and I’ll fly your little plane.”

Today we have Jerry Streeter, local president of the American Postal Workers Union in Topeka, Kansas.

He’s going, “Waaaaaaaaaah!” because the processing center—the place where mail is stolen—is being moved from Topeka to Kansas City.

“The worst part is we still don’t know how this will impact us. A lot of people are going to have to make some big life decisions.”

Judging by your weight, Jerry, biology will take the decisions out of your hands in fairly short order. Did you think you could eat nothing but fast food your whole life and not have it impact your health? Also, being the local president of the postal workers’ union at a processing center, you were well aware of all the theft going on.

The article says that the US Postal Service faces a dire financial challenge and relies on the sale of postage, products, and services to fund its operations. What they don’t tell you is that 148 percent of the revenue that the USPS generates goes to benefits—retiree health care, pensions, workers’ compensation liabilities—and outstanding debt to the U.S. Treasury.

So, the frightened, morbidly obese baby-man Jerry Streeter just sat there, eating, while the union to which he belongs destroyed his livelihood. He thought he’d be rolling in cheeseburgers and fries forever.

Tough luck, Jerry. By not giving you any more money, I’m doing my part to make sure that you lose your health-care insurance and pension.

Some people just have to learn things the hard way. It’s wrong to steal and use the power of your union to negotiate rules that protect the thieves. Now all of you get to suffer together.