Hey, everyone, it's been a while since I did one of these where it's just me and you and you listen to me talk on my own, no interacting with the chat, no guests, And I thought we needed a break from all this because it's just been too much lately, and sometimes you need a good laugh. Sometimes you need to shake your head and be like what the hell
and have it not be completely depressing. So over the holidays, I received a letter in the mail and I didn't get around to reading it because I put it aside and I forgot it was there. You ever put something in like plain sight that just becomes like the environment, and then all of a sudden you're like, wait, wait a minute, what what is that? Oh? Oh, And so someone sent me an analog super chat, that is, they send something to my PO box with a with either cash or a check or money order in it. And
the person said, who sent this? I have an important anecdote to share with you and your listeners, if you choose it's cautionary tale, ignormal your peril. This is a true recounting of real events. I choose to believe him that this is a true recounting of real events. But after I read this, you may choose not to believe that.
So this is the way it starts out. Prior to last Christmas, I received no one of my phone, not one, but four delivery failure notices in regards to a present I had bought online for me and my well loved second generation Ford Ranger. My honey is a step side three point three lead manual, but with a four x four drive train, skid plate, etc. A great blend of off road capability and decent mileage. You don't see many of them around, That is a rarity. Step sides are awesome.
I actually have a step side, not a Ford, but he goes on it seems my driver Prakesh. You see where this is going right, couldn't find my house for reasons that are both obscure and obvious, depending on which fact of the matter you consider. And since it was a Friday, I saddled up the Ranger and headed out to the industrial park north of the airport. All the new logistics companies have set up shop there. I intended to find my new swaybars links goddamn it, so I
could install them over the weekend. Before had handled the on ramp badly given the broken swaybar links, but would practice a clarity. I emerged smoothly and lit out between the freeway in third gear at thirty five hundred RPMs. After a short haul north, I exited onto Vindaloo Boulevard and pulled up in a likely spot with the Ranger quietly idling. I patiently waited. I was sure to spot what I was looking for from my vantage point in the seven to eleven parking lot across from the Circle
eight motel. Soon I was rewarded. It was one of those tall white Sprinter type vans with not one, but two pajets in the cab. The one in the shotgun seat was stabbing at a weird looking tablet device while animatedly exclaiming something to the driver, swinging down the boulevard in almost drunken fashion. The van was moving away fast, so I let out the clutch on the Ranger and
gave chase, even with that messed up swaybar. The van sported a logo on its side with a sort of perverted looking disneyesque pink elephant, which gave onlookers a knowing wink while its trunk curled around a cardboard box. This was a exactly the image that accompanied the delivery failure notices from the praqush guy. Getting warmer, though my forward slewed about badly, I kept up with the rogue delivery van.
A light rain began to descend, and I saw the van make a left into the forecourt of a prefab building. Seemingly it was just one of a series, but on drawing closer, I could actually see and sense the enormity of the menacing metal structure now looming over me. It made me nervous, but I knew my truck parts were somewhere inside. I pulled into and once having gotten out of my truck, I took care not to engage with
any of the various pajeet drivers. There were many, many pagets, all jabbering and jocking for their place in front of the big main doors, waving their tablet devices. Imagine the smell. Damn were those tablet things round? What the hell was to deal with those? I smiled sheeplessly and shrugged, etc. While I edged forward. You do what you gotta do when easing your way through a brown, jabbering, tablet waving
gaggle of Third worlders. The rain had gotten heavier and beaten noisily on the roofs of the growing squadrons of delivery vans. I got closer to the office door on the right side. This was Pajeet Central. I took a deep breath, opened the door, and pressed on inside. I'm assuming the deep breath was to hold your breath, because I can only imagine. I shook off the rain while
my eyes slowly adjusted to the dimly lit interior. With light shining through the glass transom, I could make out an African gentleman seated at a desk, again with a weird round tablet device. He was poking at various of the dark segments on the screen in an agitated manner, and beyond him stretched a long line of pajeetes, each holding a box or a brown envelope. Above the man's teetered a pile of similar packages, threatening to avalanche and
bury him pending the slightest upset. Sounds like pictures of trash heaps that I've seen in India. They just take the trash right outside the city and pile it five hundred feet high. Again, imagine the smell. What to make of this sorting facility? That's sort of like vooting. He's spelling it swording That kind but misspelled description was written in multi colored crayon on a large swat swatch of cardboard,
which was itself suspended over the infernal pile. The scenery resembled the Doctor Seuss cartoon depicting some kind of weird extraterrestrial post office that paints a picture, doesn't it like you can literally see it? In Doctor Seus's style, getting a results seemed to very venturing farther into the Getting results seemed to favor venturing farther into the building. It
was a gigantic space. As I have mentioned, I believe it was intended at first as an aircraft hangar, since it had no internal structure to support its enormous volume. Huge drifts maybe dunes is a better word, stretched off into the gloomy distance. These hills were entirely composed of cardboard boxes and brown padded envelopes, uncannily large, enormous heaps of packages piled on one on top of the other,
forming huge wave of like structures. The whole scene was illuminated by a big crescent shaped window high on the south wall, deafening hooting and babbling assaulted my ears, and unsettling smells filled the dense atmosphere. I can only imagine, Man, God bless you. Way up above, exhausts from the main delivery vans inside the space and other noxious gases seemed
to be forming a mixture. I could distinctly see on an otherworldly form of weather swirling round up high in the rafters built the gaseous streamers of I knew not what were curling around and round the apex of the ceiling high above. Uh oh. Everywhere pajeet swarmed over the colossal heap of packages. The clever ones had donned headlamps of the kind you take camping. I could see them
moving over the piles sorry of boxes and whatnot. Some pajeets were taking their discoveries down to a central area on the floor, and some others, having completed a similar mission, we're heading back upward, heading back upwards again. Awestruck, I wondered how best to describe the scene, and long ago memory of my childhood surfaced. He's writing to me now, question for you, Pete, when you were a kid, did Dad ever load your family into the car and take you all to the dump so you could look at
the bears. I'd have to say, no, that is not something that we ever did. Does it sound like fun kind of bears hang out of the dump? Is this something? Okay? Yeah, it was kind of like that. I mean, you painted a picture for me. I can only imagine. I observed a large pagete swat another smaller one and claimed some prize out of the pile. It took its fine down to the central area that had a large sort of mandela shaped dias dias on the floor. As I approached
his platform, a pajet confronted me. Here we go. He was the largest of all the brutes I had observed so far, standing well over four feet at the shoulder. He was directing the activity all around. His jaw swung open, and he seemed to ask me my business. I said it seemed to because, though open, his jaw did not move, His dead looking eyes did not focus or track, But I swear I heard words come out of him. With dawning horror. I'd observed a small pink elephant perched upon
the pajit's shoulder. It had a ginger neck beard and wore a set of those green eye shades that accountants use. The ensemble was topped by a black fedora, so got libertarian elephant here. The tiny animal's sinuous pink trunk was inserted into the pajitte's left ear, and he was obviously directing the brown brute's motion and speech. Uh. Things had now taken a disturbing, even frightening turn. I bet you didn't think we were going to enter into a Willam
Burrough's novel, did you. That is who I'm thinking of, isn't it Naked Lunch William Burrows? Let me look, look that up. I haven't read him in so long that Yeah, william S Burrows. I was correct, m s are one for me. Clearly the real business of the swortsing facility was conducted here by this weird hybrid. The puny package. Aram and I perused each other in the gloom for what seemed like a full minute. The elephant spoke, Hey, Jethrow, It said, you don't look so good. You need a
little bite. Maybe. The minuscule mastodon had produced a fig from somewhere and was waving it at me with one of its pink paws. Speechless, I nodded negatively and produced my phone to show the diminutive Dumbo all the failed delivery notices. Hold it still, it said, since the phone was shaking badly in my hands. Quote OIVEI it's mirror. We as backed up and that prakeuchh. He only knows how to turn right. It takes him all day to get anywhere. An acid tiny animal, he tossed away the fig.
Let me get this going here. He tossed away the fig, and a passing paget launched itself upward like a trout, snatching the treat out of the air with his mouth. Meanwhile, the elephant wiggled his pink trunk deeper into his pajete's ear. The pajete upon whom the packagerm perched, tipped his head skyward and began to belch deeply in the direction of the ceiling. He was soon joined by all the other pagets in the swording facility, all belching and farting in unison.
In some kind of smelly ritual designed to recover my package. One would assume, hold on already, our team of logistics professionals will find your package for sure. Be a mensch, shouted the tiny elephant above the racket The rhythmic belching sound continued from the brown choir as the head paget inserted his index finger through the screen of his dark round tablet device and was now swirling it around like he was on his second date with the fucking thing.
Everybody with me, give us a minute, it's starting to work. The elephant yelled high above us. All the big crescent shaped window grew brighter, and the swirling massive gas near the ceiling now resolved into something resembling a gigantic brown peach. But that was no peach, Oh god. Brown boxes and envelopes began to blast downward from an orifice in the
center of the definitely not a peach. Individually at first and then by the score brown missiles crashed toward us, accompanied by a crescendo of flatulent noise from the brown logistics professionals of the sorting facility. I was struck on the head numerous times, and I grew faint as a
pile of packages grew around and over me. I'd collapsed under on the floor under the rain of boxes, all the while listening to the hooting exclamations of the pajets being exhorted to find my package the elephant, quoting from the Bill of Lading like a verse from Leviticus. My vision faded. I felt an overwhelming desire to sleep. What was to become of me? Ready? You following good, doing
better than me. When I regained consciousness, I realized I was in my truck, parked in the drive of my own house, engine off, but the keys still in the ignition. I had no memory of escaping the sewording facility or of driving myself home. It was well after midnight, so it was all a dream. Kell it was. On the shotgun seat was my package and a note apologetically offering a very small discount on aluminum siding. Also, rather than
a traditional signature, the note sported a tiny pawprint. The wife's brother teaches paleontology at our local university, and he told us the print resembled that of fossils from a tiny creature Elephanticus Hebrewcus, a proto elephant thought to have gone extinct six million years ago. It's been about a year since the incident, and gratefully it's fading from my mind. The truck rides great now, though sometimes I notice it
smells funny. I don't talk about it, And I don't want to know what happened out there, Pete, but I beg you and implore you, you and your listeners, if you need automotive parts, go to a locally owned auto parts franchise outlet. We have to stick together. Take your trade to someplace owned by one of our guys and operated by our people. Reduce your exposure to global big tech and above all big pajeet, and look out for giant brown peaches. Watch the skies, keep watching the skies.
And so what do we learn from this story? Well, I think at the end there the recommendation, the emphatic pleading to do business locally with your own people. That makes a lot of sense. Now doing business with big tech and big paget also very important. Look out for giant brown peaches. I would have to say that, given what's been said here, that would probably be very important to do. So was it all a dream? Is there really an Elephantsicus hibraicus that his thoughts had gone extinct
six million years ago? Or is this humor? I would say upon reading this that I believe him. It makes sense. There's no reason why I should question somebody's experience. I would say that if you do order something online and Prakesh can't find the house, can't find your house is putting undeliverable. Whatever it is, consider it lost. Eat the cost. Don't go anywhere where you can you have to interact with Pajeet's being controlled by elephants on their shoulders, being
exposed to that smell in anywhere. Giant peaches can land on you, causing you to not be able to remember the rest of the day. Wise words important to remember. Be back in a few days. Take care, sa