Refusing the Refuse

I have never received a spam letter like this again, and I suspect the strategy of supposedly sending someone and airline ticket that they didn’t actually purchase had a low success rate. I can’t imagine why?

As always, spam letter first (unedited), then my response. If you like it, share it?

______________________________

Hello
FLIGHT NUMBER A933
ELECTRONIC 270525747
DATE & TIME / JANUARY 28, 2014, 12:52 AM
ARRIVING / Bakersfield
TOTAL PRICE / 243.25 USD

Your bought ticket is attached to the letter as a scan document.
To use your ticket you should print it.

Thank you for your attention.
_________________________

Dear Airline Representative,

Color me befuddled. “To use my ticket, I must print it?!”

You know, there was a time in this country when deals were struck with a handshake and held together with an understanding of character. Quick – think of the most adorable elderly man you know; that guy knows what I’m talking about.

But apparently in 2014, I have to *PRINT* my ticket. Paper and ink. Did you know there’s literally a mass of trash floating in the south Pacific that’s twice the size of Texas? You heard me right – that’s *TWICE* the size of the asteroid from the iconic documentary “Armageddon.” (RIP Bruce Willis)

I refuse to add my soon-to-be-depleted Epson 22H8B black ink cartridge to this flotilla of refuse.

On top of that, you have sent me a ticket to Bakersfield which I did not purchase, as if my guilt can assuaged by the below average service at their local Red Lobster. The same lobsters who clung to life in their desperation to escape the floating south Pacific Alcatraz of trash, only to spend their numbered days watching trays of cheese biscuits pass by their crowded tank, unable to smell them.

What guile. I would suspect the bakers that founded Bakersfield are turning in their graves.

No sir! The taupe-inspired inlets of the Bakersfield airport shall not welcome me, just as the bowels of my Epson EasyPrint Plus (Men In Black 2 edition) printer shall not welcome the slender sheet of bleached tree skin to embolden upon it this letter of betrayal, this eulogy for a lobster written in advance. Meanwhile, of those who have found their way into the tank, it can only be said:

“Let the rubber bands be a color that suits your eyes,

and distract us from them, because they kinda move like fingers,

and that’s super unsettling.”

-Jak

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