I check the return address of the package on the doorstep and my heart sinks: another one of those indeterminate-origin envelopes bringing me unsolicited Hollywood suck-up crapola.
Several times a week I receive a mailer full of junk originating from an otherwise unidentified “Shipping Department” in someplace like Rancho Cucamonga or Calabasas. The latest package contains two small Japanese-style lunch boxes. Within one are two tiny, square, black ceramic saucers and plastic cutlery; the other has ten fine little paper pyramids, each containing a bag of green tea. There’s also a tiny machine with a crank on it, and two …
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