Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Dear Sir or Madam,

No matter who you are or where you come from or what you happen to look like today, all of humanity is united in that all of us, at one time or another, have been in possession of a sticker. I believe it comes with the opposable thumbs and neuroses.

I have seen children well into their teenage years eagerly grope at colourful stickables in doctors’ offices. They don’t care what’s on it as long as they feel they have been moderately compensated for pain and humiliation endured. Stickers of Pokémon are used as currency in the microcivilizations formed by abandoned children in Japanese shopping malls. Even the most deprived third world urchins know stickers in the form of adhesive medical strips given out by aid organizations. They are told they are images of biscuits and they believe them because they do not nor will they ever know what a biscuit looks like.

I, myself, had a gold star placed upon a Shadows of Holocaust-Era Fascism paper I wrote in grade school. Immediately afterward, I received three more on an Irony in the Education system report.

I have my own stickers to-day, you know. It’s true. Here is a preposterously oversized image of one:

If you would like one of your own, and can ignore the obviously sinister means by which I must obtain them, simply send me an emily requesting one, and I will be happy to oblige, as long you distinguish yourself somehow. It isn’t that hard. Try writing it in Hendecasyllabic verse or be from the future or something. Here’s a good one: explain to me in logical terms how you are me.

Once again, send it all to Hell via gentleman@gentlemancomics.com.

Yours Faithfully, The Gentleman of the Site