Fake Delivery Man  A man comes to the door at home. He is delivering some thin packages in cardboard. I go the door. He is dressed funny, wearing an odd hat, not like a UPS man. I sign for the delivery on top of one of the boxes. We have trouble coordinating my signature with his signature receiver. When the signature does turn out it is a bunch of horizontal scribbled lines. He goes back to his truck, which is parked in front of my neighbor's house. I look at the boxes he has delivered: they are nothing but cardboard boxes that have been broken down! I'm not sure why he did that: what could be his motive? He is by his truck getting some boxes out of it, like he will do another delivery. I hope he isn't delivering to our house again. A bit later he is back at our front door. I don't go directly to the door. I am wary of the man. I lean out of the house in an open space that would be between the front windows and the door, and talk to him. I am firm, and say that he has five minutes, which is actually four minutes and 50 seconds because the first minute is already 10 seconds past. He dilly-dallys around and then decides to use his time. He pulls out an old Wilmerton Times newspaper and starts telling me how bad the issue is. He points out the plain square boxes, the waste of space, and how they throw in sexual advertisements. My sister Heather is there. She laughs when the man mentions sexual advertisements. He then pulls a pan of sausages over, implying they are geared towards women as well. I laugh. I understand what the man is trying to do: sell a better newspaper. But he is fundamentally wrong. He is comparing the 1984 Wilmerton Times to his most recent and colorful issue of whatever his publication is (I think it's the New York Times or something to do with Science or Scientific). I know he is comparing apples to oranges.