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Sirs:
This is the 2nd time I have written you this month, and it truly would be a wondrous thing to have the instant matter resolved to the mutual satisfaction of me and my master, who also pays my courier wages and holds my life in his hands. He is something of a recluse, and hasn't left the compound in the last 5 years or so. I think you can see, therefore, why it is so very critical to get these movies-by-mail orders correct on the first go-round. And herein lies the problem.
My master is a huge fan of "Curb Your Enthusiasm." He has seen Seasons 1 thru 3 complete. (During Season 2, vol. 3, he laughed so hard, he peed in his cloak, and I thought, perhaps he was going to have a hernia, but it was just a false alarm). I, myself, am humming the theme song from "Curb" as I write this. I heard my master humming it this morning, and now I can't get it out of my head.
After he completed viewing Season 3, my master took a bit of a hiatus. In fact, we all laid low for months with nothing much to do except watch my master's home-made tapes. (BORING! Just him talking into a microphone in front of a blue wall). After days of this, the mood around the mansion was this side of morose -- if you get my drift. Depressing, to say the least. And worse, no one was able to jolly up my master. Not even his wife(s) and the silly "doctor" with the black thing on his forehead who used to stop in every now and again and shoot the you-know-what with my master.
Finally, my master had had enough padding around the house humoring the imbecile hangers-on who were always hanging on. One day, without warning, he walked into my quarters and directed me to order the next 3 "Curb" discs. (BTW, he is a "Premium" member, and, thus entitled to have 3 discs out at one time). I dutifully complied. Or so I thought. But it had been so long since we had last watched an episode, that I truly could not remember what came next in the series. When the package came from your company with the little return mailer (postage pre-paid), my master was beside himself with joyfulness. We decided to have a "Curb" marathon that weekend. Some of the gang slaughtered a lamb. There was talk of popcorn. The whole clan gathered together in the viewing room. We would have drawn the curtains had the curtains not been perpetually drawn, anyway.
Then I slid the disc into the player. At first, all was well. But about 7 minutes into Episode 1, my master said: "Hey! We've seen this one before!" I had a sickly feeling that he may have been right, but I was secretly hoping that either my master was having dejavu or that in a few minutes he might not notice. But it was to no avail. Soon the others were shouting. "We've seen this one before!"
My master ordered me to stop the disc and play the next one in the series. But we never got past the main menu. My master started to read the synopsis: "Thanks to Larry's miscommunication on his new cell phone, Richard Lewis' girlfriend succumbs to peanut allergies a week before they're supposed to go to the Emmy Awards. A practicing Christian Scientist, she doesn't take any medicine, so Richard and Larry devise a scheme to cook up some brownies." [The joke is the brownies have Benadryl in them]. Lo and behold, this was enough for my master. "Idiot!" he screamed. "You ordered Season 3 all over again! Did you think I wanted to watch the same season twice in a row!?" Then he took off one of his sandals and began to beat me to within an inch of my life. The others took off their sandals and threw them at the television screen. Chaos reigned. The whole while, the theme song from "Curb" just kept playing over and over -- just the few bars. Then it would stop. Then it would start again. The way it does when you are stuck on the main menu. After about 20 minutes of that, you just want to shoot yourself.
After my master finished beating me and recovered his composure, he demanded that I send back Season 3 and order Season 4 without delay. I crawled to my quarters to do his bidding.
Waiting for the replacement discs was the longest week of my life. Do I have to paint you a picture? I trust not. I practically camped out by the letterbox to make sure that no one else would get to the mail first. When the red mailer with your cheerful little logo on it finally arrived yesterday, I do not have to tell you that it was with some trepidation that I opened it in the privacy of the water closet. With the door locked. And paper stuffed under the crack. And much superfluous flushing.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I opened up the case and saw the correct disc inside. But then I thought it best to be certain. I waited until the middle of the night when the entire household was sleeping. Then I crept down to the viewing room, popped the disc in the player, pushed the mute button, and began to watch. It was Season 4, alright. I began scrolling around to be sure. (Episode 1 -- Larry is offered the lead role in Mel Brooks' musical, "The Producers"-- guffaws all round; Episode 2 -- Larry sets up Michael on a "blind" date with a veiled Muslim woman -- too cute!). But suddenly, a new problem reared its hideous head. The disc began to skip. Then it just froze completely. I tried everything -- alcohol, the oil from a machine gun mechanism, ghee -- nothing would clean it satisfactorily. I suppose it is not necessary for me to advise you that I could be in quite a deep hole here as a result of this monumental clusterfuck. Do you fellows not check the discs before they go out?
My entreaty is as follows: I need you to replace the damaged disc as quickly as possible without any shilly-shallying. Moreover, I should think that giving us a free month is the least you could do after all we've been through. Two months is more like it.
A damaged disc!? This is how you generally treat "Premium" members? Seriously!
Now, the other important thing is this...for the love of...those bloody helicopters! I can't hear my own thoughts! It almost sounds like they're landing in the courtyard. So annoying.
Where was I? Oh yes. I need you to ensure...
I...Oh this is pointless. That noise is soooo loud!
Now what?
Hold on. There's a loud knock on the front door.
I had better go and see who it is just now...
This is the 2nd time I have written you this month, and it truly would be a wondrous thing to have the instant matter resolved to the mutual satisfaction of me and my master, who also pays my courier wages and holds my life in his hands. He is something of a recluse, and hasn't left the compound in the last 5 years or so. I think you can see, therefore, why it is so very critical to get these movies-by-mail orders correct on the first go-round. And herein lies the problem.
My master is a huge fan of "Curb Your Enthusiasm." He has seen Seasons 1 thru 3 complete. (During Season 2, vol. 3, he laughed so hard, he peed in his cloak, and I thought, perhaps he was going to have a hernia, but it was just a false alarm). I, myself, am humming the theme song from "Curb" as I write this. I heard my master humming it this morning, and now I can't get it out of my head.
After he completed viewing Season 3, my master took a bit of a hiatus. In fact, we all laid low for months with nothing much to do except watch my master's home-made tapes. (BORING! Just him talking into a microphone in front of a blue wall). After days of this, the mood around the mansion was this side of morose -- if you get my drift. Depressing, to say the least. And worse, no one was able to jolly up my master. Not even his wife(s) and the silly "doctor" with the black thing on his forehead who used to stop in every now and again and shoot the you-know-what with my master.
Finally, my master had had enough padding around the house humoring the imbecile hangers-on who were always hanging on. One day, without warning, he walked into my quarters and directed me to order the next 3 "Curb" discs. (BTW, he is a "Premium" member, and, thus entitled to have 3 discs out at one time). I dutifully complied. Or so I thought. But it had been so long since we had last watched an episode, that I truly could not remember what came next in the series. When the package came from your company with the little return mailer (postage pre-paid), my master was beside himself with joyfulness. We decided to have a "Curb" marathon that weekend. Some of the gang slaughtered a lamb. There was talk of popcorn. The whole clan gathered together in the viewing room. We would have drawn the curtains had the curtains not been perpetually drawn, anyway.
Then I slid the disc into the player. At first, all was well. But about 7 minutes into Episode 1, my master said: "Hey! We've seen this one before!" I had a sickly feeling that he may have been right, but I was secretly hoping that either my master was having dejavu or that in a few minutes he might not notice. But it was to no avail. Soon the others were shouting. "We've seen this one before!"
My master ordered me to stop the disc and play the next one in the series. But we never got past the main menu. My master started to read the synopsis: "Thanks to Larry's miscommunication on his new cell phone, Richard Lewis' girlfriend succumbs to peanut allergies a week before they're supposed to go to the Emmy Awards. A practicing Christian Scientist, she doesn't take any medicine, so Richard and Larry devise a scheme to cook up some brownies." [The joke is the brownies have Benadryl in them]. Lo and behold, this was enough for my master. "Idiot!" he screamed. "You ordered Season 3 all over again! Did you think I wanted to watch the same season twice in a row!?" Then he took off one of his sandals and began to beat me to within an inch of my life. The others took off their sandals and threw them at the television screen. Chaos reigned. The whole while, the theme song from "Curb" just kept playing over and over -- just the few bars. Then it would stop. Then it would start again. The way it does when you are stuck on the main menu. After about 20 minutes of that, you just want to shoot yourself.
After my master finished beating me and recovered his composure, he demanded that I send back Season 3 and order Season 4 without delay. I crawled to my quarters to do his bidding.
Waiting for the replacement discs was the longest week of my life. Do I have to paint you a picture? I trust not. I practically camped out by the letterbox to make sure that no one else would get to the mail first. When the red mailer with your cheerful little logo on it finally arrived yesterday, I do not have to tell you that it was with some trepidation that I opened it in the privacy of the water closet. With the door locked. And paper stuffed under the crack. And much superfluous flushing.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I opened up the case and saw the correct disc inside. But then I thought it best to be certain. I waited until the middle of the night when the entire household was sleeping. Then I crept down to the viewing room, popped the disc in the player, pushed the mute button, and began to watch. It was Season 4, alright. I began scrolling around to be sure. (Episode 1 -- Larry is offered the lead role in Mel Brooks' musical, "The Producers"-- guffaws all round; Episode 2 -- Larry sets up Michael on a "blind" date with a veiled Muslim woman -- too cute!). But suddenly, a new problem reared its hideous head. The disc began to skip. Then it just froze completely. I tried everything -- alcohol, the oil from a machine gun mechanism, ghee -- nothing would clean it satisfactorily. I suppose it is not necessary for me to advise you that I could be in quite a deep hole here as a result of this monumental clusterfuck. Do you fellows not check the discs before they go out?
My entreaty is as follows: I need you to replace the damaged disc as quickly as possible without any shilly-shallying. Moreover, I should think that giving us a free month is the least you could do after all we've been through. Two months is more like it.
A damaged disc!? This is how you generally treat "Premium" members? Seriously!
Now, the other important thing is this...for the love of...those bloody helicopters! I can't hear my own thoughts! It almost sounds like they're landing in the courtyard. So annoying.
Where was I? Oh yes. I need you to ensure...
I...Oh this is pointless. That noise is soooo loud!
Now what?
Hold on. There's a loud knock on the front door.
I had better go and see who it is just now...
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