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To the circulation manager:<br><br>
When captors choose to break down the mental state of their prisoners as a prelude to interrogation or, even, torture, they often destroy any semblance of predictability about the prisoner's life. They will randomly move the fundamental aspects of the prisoner's routine, such as meals, sleep, light, dark, or their daily newspaper.<br><br>
Sometimes, they may even toy with the mental well-being of the prisoner by making the routine appear to settle into something comprehensible, before ripping all consoling ritual out at the roots and beginning anew.<br><br>
I must, therefore, protest vigorously to whomever has decided to torment our household with random newspaper delivery (or non-delivery). I must concede. The evil forces at work have done their job, and I am a raving lunatic, never sure whether to make the coffee and then read the paper; look for the paper, and then make the coffee; or simply hang my head in despair and go buy a Globe and Mail at the office.<br><br>
It has come to the point that I am afraid to even open my door in the morning. Optimism is dead. I have ceased to believe that the paper will be there. Is this what the Forces of Darkness were hoping to accomplish?<br><br>
In all seriousness, whomever was delivering our paper the week before this past one, was a gem and a jewel. The paper arrived nice and early, neatly folded, on the doorstep. Last week, by contrast, it has been located in many random locations in my front yard, if it appeared at all. Which it didn't yesterday, and hasn't yet today.<br><br>
I recognize that writing a letter of this kind marks the first descent into senility, which is sad for a woman of 41, but I am defeated and must turn to you for mercy.<br><br>
Regards,<br><br>
Mustang Sally
When captors choose to break down the mental state of their prisoners as a prelude to interrogation or, even, torture, they often destroy any semblance of predictability about the prisoner's life. They will randomly move the fundamental aspects of the prisoner's routine, such as meals, sleep, light, dark, or their daily newspaper.<br><br>
Sometimes, they may even toy with the mental well-being of the prisoner by making the routine appear to settle into something comprehensible, before ripping all consoling ritual out at the roots and beginning anew.<br><br>
I must, therefore, protest vigorously to whomever has decided to torment our household with random newspaper delivery (or non-delivery). I must concede. The evil forces at work have done their job, and I am a raving lunatic, never sure whether to make the coffee and then read the paper; look for the paper, and then make the coffee; or simply hang my head in despair and go buy a Globe and Mail at the office.<br><br>
It has come to the point that I am afraid to even open my door in the morning. Optimism is dead. I have ceased to believe that the paper will be there. Is this what the Forces of Darkness were hoping to accomplish?<br><br>
In all seriousness, whomever was delivering our paper the week before this past one, was a gem and a jewel. The paper arrived nice and early, neatly folded, on the doorstep. Last week, by contrast, it has been located in many random locations in my front yard, if it appeared at all. Which it didn't yesterday, and hasn't yet today.<br><br>
I recognize that writing a letter of this kind marks the first descent into senility, which is sad for a woman of 41, but I am defeated and must turn to you for mercy.<br><br>
Regards,<br><br>
Mustang Sally