A package in the mail

The mailman just called from downstairs. "Mr. Flemming? I've got something for you. Will you come down, please?"

Hmm. This is unusual, I thought. Packages normally go to the manager's office.

On the way down the stairs, it hit me: Certified mail! I have to sign for something, I'll bet. And certified mail is the sort of thing that lawyers do. Could it be a raving cease-and-desist letter from Martin D. Singer? Am I gonna get sued?

I was tingling with anticipation when I got to the lobby. The mailman turned to me and handed me...a package from Amazon. Dammit. The manager's office was closed or something, and he was just being cool.

How disappointing.

Hey, Marty, where's my threat? When you asserted, essentially, that Gov. Schwarzenegger's "right of publicity" trumps the First Amendment, you weren't...bluffing or anything, were you?

Come on. I'm selling Arnold's image. For money. Sue me, asshole.