For the record, these jerks didn't ask a single question about any of these topics in a 90+ minute debate:

The financial crisis
The collapse of housing values in the US and around the world
Afghanistan
Health care
Torture
The declining value of the US Dollar
Education
Trade
Pakistan
Energy
Immigration
The decline of American manufacturing
The Supreme Court
The burgeoning world food crisis.
Global warming
China
The attacks on organized labor and the working class
Terrorism and al Qaeda
Civil liberties and constraints on government surveillance

(original list from dailykos)

Instead it was a cavalcade of nothing but smear questions about Bittergate, Rev. Wright, Bosnia, tax cuts (the "moderators" arguing in favor, natch), even scraping deep into the barrel to try for BS links to Weather Underground that Sean Hannity is trying to push.

ABC's phones and mailboxes are gonna get stuffed with hateful responses.

You may not want your mailbox to be spammed, but I don't want my profile page to be spammed either.

Oh i forgot, I don't want my mailbox to be spammed

Good Call Kronos... I'll post it here and on the description:

The main character of the film (James Van Der Beek of all people) is receiving constant love letters from an anonymous person. When he believes he's found the girl thats doing it he spends all his time pursuing her. When he fails, he goes back to his womanizing ways. The final love note you see in the mailbox is actually her final goodbye letter. She was a person who was seen in every single important moment of the film in a very inconsequential way. (She served lunch to the main character, she watched him from the background, of course this isn't revealed until the end of the film). This video is the final result of a troubled girl who's obsessive affection isn't returned. When I first saw this movie, it was almost entirely forgettable until this happened. Strange that a character with so little screentime would make the most powerful impression during the film.

The song is "Without You" by Harry Nilsson

My mailbox is empty. But I didn't contribute any money for the shirt, anyway.

*save

http://www.snopes.com/photos/advertisements/mailbox.asp

to be fair, someone has chopped off the original beginning and ending of this video... it is a commercial for Type & Magic print production company, by the Buenos Aires office of the Ogilvy & Mather international advertising agency.

Original Ending:

----------------

We know you don't like surprises.

[Type & Magic]

Separations. Photochromes. No surprises.

----------------

Won´t be able to check my mailbox until the 27th.
If it is there already I will take it to NYC and take a midnight shot wearing it in Times Square or on the Brooklyn bridge or wherever the heck I will be at 12am.

As a matter of fact I think we should all wear it for new years eve and share the pics!

I just stepped in from checking the mailbox and low-and-behold ye Sift shirt arrived safe and sound! Thanks, dag nabbit! I appreciate it. Really cool.

LOL!
________

Normally I would scoff at a biometric lock on a trailer, but if it's on cinder blocks then there's a WORLD of difference.

In reply to this comment by Camhuffman:
Actually I just bought one for my cinder-block foundation trailer.
In reply to this comment by kronosposeidon:
You're right, shatterdose. However, people who would buy something like this would most likely be well inside the upper-income bracket, and the thieves who prey on upper-income targets are smarter and more resourceful than most. Obtaining a fingerprint from their intended victims probably wouldn't be too difficult if they were determined. They could lift it off their cars, mailboxes, or even off the door handle itself and then proceed accordingly. However I believe the main point of this video is that a supposedly perfect lock was beaten in more than one way, and without great difficulty.

Actually I just bought one for my cinder-block foundation trailer.
In reply to this comment by kronosposeidon:
You're right, shatterdose. However, people who would buy something like this would most likely be well inside the upper-income bracket, and the thieves who prey on upper-income targets are smarter and more resourceful than most. Obtaining a fingerprint from their intended victims probably wouldn't be too difficult if they were determined. They could lift it off their cars, mailboxes, or even off the door handle itself and then proceed accordingly. However I believe the main point of this video is that a supposedly perfect lock was beaten in more than one way, and without great difficulty.

You're right, shatterdose. However, people who would buy something like this would most likely be well inside the upper-income bracket, and the thieves who prey on upper-income targets are smarter and more resourceful than most. Obtaining a fingerprint from their intended victims probably wouldn't be too difficult if they were determined. They could lift it off their cars, mailboxes, or even off the door handle itself and then proceed accordingly. However I believe the main point of this video is that a supposedly perfect lock was beaten in more than one way, and without great difficulty.

You are likely to be eaten by a grue.
If this predicament seems particularly cruel,
consider whose fault it could be:
not a torch or a match in your inventory.

It got narrated at you in the second person.
Every time you booted up, it seemed you got another version
of your life told to you by a status line blinking,
the impossible people you could be without thinking
yourself insane of personality problems,
with a mop on a drop ship or trying to stab a goblin.
That don’t play in public life. You get arrested,
psychoactive medication daily in your big intestine
and attesting that the voices in your head
said the dwarf shot first, embedded arrow then you bled.
But doctors with needles posit repeatedly
that you knocked down that midget in the park unneededly.
This has seeded the idea that you should
never venture from the house, never get misunderstood
by the non-player characters inhabiting Earth,
none of whom are too concerned about Nord & Bert,
not one of whom ever aimed a fish around the room,
trying to get it in the ear canal because doom
beset the last planet they were on, or near
the verge of a set of poetics they wouldn’t hear.
Never peered at the clues with invisible ink.
No SM goddesses ever gave them pause to think.
Never piloted six robots, each distinct.
Don’t matter how many 2-liters they drink,
they’re not gonna follow what you’re saying at all.
They impugn and appall in the scope of their gall,
as you hide in your room in disgust with the lights turned out.
Turn ‘em on in a turn. Leave ‘em off for now.

You read a pamphlet from a mailbox that urges low cunning,
offers cursor and prompt: type >run and you’re running,
and parses what you tell it, pronouns intact,
abbreviations if you need ‘em (better keep it gramat.).
Better punctuate your sentences and never redact
the name of anything ambiguous. You’re about to get asked,
do you mean the red one, the round one, the crooked, or the blue?
Better keep that in your pocket, don’t know yet what it could do.
Could be the spray for the grue; you’re gonna need it if it is —
a situation that reloads, restarts, or quits.
Wonder how many points out of how many points
you’ve got to get before you’re done. Endeavor then to rejoice,
when you wish more ardently, identities shed,
for continuance, the rhyme forever voyaging. Fled
from all lights and colors, from all smells and sound:
just the lyric on the monochrome display and you’re proud
to make another verse appear by solving riddles.
If you didn’t have to sleep, you know you’d never seek acquittal.
You’d be ever in the middle and the midst of quest.
If it weren’t for >don the gown. you’d never get dressed.
In your underwear typing, just like Front,
keyboard attached up to my fingers — wrists bear the brunt —
as I seek to do stunts simply through their descriptions.
I think I went once to some sands that were Egyptian.
And I retain plane tickets, snapshots, receipts,
yet I stand unconvinced that this has happened to me.
I wouldn’t want to misremember or get confused.
Recall of crawling towards a pyramid appearing over dunes.
Recall of entering the thing and descending stairs.
Does it descend from there, adventure to nightmare?
Did I battle a snake? Was the treasure intact?
Or did the TRS-80 in my brain get hacked?
Thanks, Grampa, for buying it. Now my life’s ruined.
Twenty-two years later, head’s infested: got the grue in.
PLUGHing, XYZZYfying, trying to escape,
but I can’t ‘cause I’m up and around and awake.

"Why doesn't patches have patches anymore???

inspired funny shit...and the logo with the dog witha mailbox for a head....very good!

Iraq used to have a return address.. till someone blew up the mailbox.
Wasn't the case for invading Iraq based entirely on the possibility that Saddam had nukes? wait I must be crazy.

Is a victicrat something like an islamofacist? I like taking 2 completely non related words and mashing them together to prove my point... like moonbat!

I'm not a big fan of Clinton, but using him as a scapegoat everytime someone points the finger at Bush is getting old quantum.

Oh sweet. If that song ever found its way into my mailbox that would be so cool...