A snail mail tale

I recently received in the mail an official looking envelope from the Washington Secretary of State. "Dear Robert Majors" it read, "now that you're eighteen years old, you can vote, etc., so please register and here is a form and mail it in and so on." Of course, I paraphrase, but that was the gist. Quite nice of them, I thought, to give me the heads up.

Then I thought to myself, hey, wait a minute. throwing my memory way back to within a week of my actual eighteenth birthday, I remember receiving a 'birthday gift' from the Gillette company. A box with a little bit of shaving gel, and a Mach 3 (It's got three blades! Wow!) From talking to my friends, I get the impression that it's the same kit that Gillette sends to every male in the Western Hemisphere on or very near to his own eighteenth birthday. Very useful for those who never had a wisp of facial hair before they turned eighteen, but who upon rising on the first day of their eighteenth year find that overnight their faces have somehow become a rugged jungle of manly scruff. Very useful indeed, if that is the case. On the other hand, in that scenario one would probably be rather loathe to scratch the stuff off. Kind of a treasure, you know?

This led me to the inevitable conclusion that the Gillette company knows more about me than my own government. That's rather spooky. It became even spookier after I talked to Brian Russell, a friend of mine who is a registered voter and has been for quite some time (since about the time he received his razor kit, I think,) and it turns out that he got the same letter which I had received. So, not only does the government not know how old I am, but they don't know who is registered and who isn't (or at least they take less care in the business than does Gillette for a silly - and if you ask me, pretty creepy - promotion.) Personally, I think that one's age and one's voting status would be two things that the government would be sure to keep tabs on. Or at least find somewhat important. Perhaps they should hand the whole operation over to Gillette:

"Dear Robert Majors,

We here at Gillette would like to congratulate you on reaching your eighteenth birthday as a fine blue eyed, six foot two, one hundred and sixty pound, singing, conga drum playing Stanford Student-to-be who doesn't know what he wants to major in but is pretty sure that it has very little to do with psychology, French, or paint. Having underhandedly got ahold of your personal information, our Department of Spooky Marketing would like to present you with this little gift - inside you'll find your own complementary Mach 3 razor (Did you know it's got three blades? Count
em. Three! We're quite proud of that), a bottle of our new shaving gel, and a Gillette brand voter registration form. Please fill it out at your earliest convenience and mail it to our headquarters. Thank you, and good luck with your new legal and facial hair status.

Sincerely,
Your friends at Gillette"


Music of the moment - "Hanani" by the O.C. Supertones, off of their "Chase The Sun" album. Three stars for the song - though this is one of my less favorite songs on the CD the album itself is one of the best that I own.