Hey, man, I got your postcard, and I just wanted to let you know. As soon as possible, because you really seem to be freaking your shit about this whole census thing, what with sending me a postcard right after you sent out the census "request."
The reason I typed request in quotes, by the way, is because you put all over the front of the census packet that my response is required by law. So it really isn't as much of a request as it is a demand, right, Bobster? Oh, and it's also plastered to the front of this postcard that you're badgering me with.
Here's the thing, Bobbo: I actually have shit to do. You know, job, school, sleep. That kind of thing. You may not believe this, but sometimes I don't feel like rushing right home and filling out page after page of bullshit government forms.
I realize you work for the United States government, Bob, which is known for being incredibly efficient and quick about doing pretty much everything, but some of us can't be quite as speedy as you guys, you know?
I also realize that this is important stuff. I mean, we gotta keep track of all the Frenchmen sneaking into our country and stealing our poodle poop, right? (That's something else I wanted to talk to you about, Bob-O-Matic, is all the missing dog poop, but I'll save it for another time.)
You gotta give me some time, big guy. You're sending out the wrong message with your passive-aggressive postcard sent out right after the packet. You're like someone's kid brother squealing about how mom said you could play the XBox, too, or a hooker demanding money for a lousy blowjob that didn't even feel good.
Just calm down, okay? Back off my nutsack a little, and I promise I'll get your information to you. In the meantime, why don't you guys at the government focus on other stuff, like our country flushing itself further down the toilet on a daily basis, or maybe all the corruption in the political system. Or those motherfuckin' French people.