Guest Blogger: Jordi Scrubbings

Who's the cat with the 'fro? If you've seen him out and about around various events in the Tampa Bay area and pondered that question, the answer is Jordi Scrubbings, who regularly holds court at JordiScrubbings.com. You may have also seen him doing stand-up comedy at the Improv under the name Mike Lortz. And if you're seeing him right now on this blog, it's because he's today's guest blogger. Check it out...

Thanks for the introduction, Clark.



I’ve noticed so far this has been a smorgasbord of mindless philosophizing and meandering postulation.

I should fit in well.

Today I want to talk about something that affects us all. A plague upon our society. A scar on our collective wellbeing.

I want to talk about labels.

No, not the labels that make the jacket you want cost five times more in a store in the mall than it would at a bookleg corner market. And not the labels we attach to other people through stereotyping, innuendo, or other sociological shortcuts.

I’m talking about the hundreds of mailing labels that arrive in your mailbox from charities every holiday season. Along with sticky notes, notepads, calendars, and other sorts of “freetionary” (free + stationary = “freetionary”), these labels are supposed to be an incentive for you to give.

Apparently, some ivory tower economist somewhere told these charities that if people get something, they are more likely to give something.

The problem, however, is that while I can use the notepads and sticky notes and even the calendars, I have only have use for a limited amount of labels. After that, they have a value that decreases in utility and increases in annoyance.

Considering I only send out approximately six pieces of mail a month, I have enough labels for 150 months of outgoing mail.

Or 12.5 years.

And that’s if I don’t move from my apartment before 2023.

For those counting at home, that’s 900 stickers with my name and address. And I have only lived in my apartment for two years. Imagine how much larger my collection would be if I lived here longer.

So before this year’s flock of freetionary arrives, I’ve been trying to devise a plan to rid myself of all but a handful of labels. Maybe I could send them back to where they came from. I’d send the USO 113, the March of Dimes 89, MADD 40, Feeding America 36, AMVETS 24, the American Diabetes Association 95, the USA Olympic team 170, and the Disabled American Veterans 330. Maybe I could start a movement like those folks who sent AOL all those damn Free Hours CDs that had a kudzu-like stranglehold on our culture in the 1990s.

Maybe I could actually use the labels. I could put one in every public bathroom I use. Restaurants, truck stops, sports stadiums – it could be my way of marking my territory. Kinda like a graffiti artist, except without the spray paint or artistic ability.

Or maybe I’ll label on everything I own. That would be great for insurance purposes, right?

I’ll put one on the TV, one on the recliner, and even one on each of my 683 Star Wars figures.

This way if I ever lose Yoda, how to mail him back to me whoever finds him will know.