My mailbox

I'm tempted to use my fake caller ID to order something to make my love bombardment last for hours. I could save much with Karl or check out Uncle Bernie's secret weapon, guaranteed not to crush my man's engine. 

I can earn up to 1,250 points while getting $80,000, may share of the Bailout, or join Nielsen's Homescan Consumer Panel where I get to sample meals prepared by reknowned celebrity chefs using cuts from overjoyed consumers, sorted by race, sex, ethnicity, sexual preference, and shoe size.

Should I tell the NSA survey group what zombie flu precautions I am taking?

I'm guessing that a few spammers are actually living up to their end of the privacy policies I routinely agree to, because I have several offers to help me teach children responsibility. Children and responsibility are not two concepts that ordinarily come to mind while I'm awake.

I have the opportunity to take advantage of several stimulus packages, some of which involve vibrating life-like plastic products that I can wrap around my insignificant penis and earn up to 200 points while saving 50% on a Rachael Ray Knife Set, which can be used in case of medical emergency to perform an appendectomy.

Looking for a big discount on a small order or wondering how long this market rally will last? You need go no further than my mailbox.

It's all here, folks. Like truth and beauty, although I doubt it's the kind that Keats had in mind.

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