The way I understand it, the Russians are sort of a combination of evil and incompetence... sort of like the Post Office with tanks.

My favourite books are Charles Bukowski's 'Post Office' and 'Women.'

The blankets had fallen off and I stared down at her white back, the shoulder blades sticking out as if they wanted to grow into wings, poke through that skin. Little blades. She was helpless.

Now I have to have the biggest P.O. box in the entire post office to get all the manuscripts coming in.

I don't film messages. I let the post office take care of those.

In an urban area, you're not going to be an hour away from another post office.