Quote:
Originally posted by robustpuppy
Now if I could just get freakin' Pottery Barn to leave me alone. I really hope the U.S.P.S. does not forward catalogs.
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Postmaster General: "Oh, my goodness. What have they done to you here?"
Kramer: "Huh? Who are you?"
Postmaster General: "Well, you can just call me Henry."
Kramer: "Henry Atkins? The postmaster general?"
Postmaster General: "Last time I checked."
Kramer: "Henry... can I get out of here now?"
Postmaster General: "Oh, oh. Sit a bit. Sit a bit. I mean, after all, I drove all the way up here from D.C. just to talk to you."
Kramer: "Oh?"
Postmaster General: "I even had to cancel a round of golf with the secretary of state. Do you like golf, Mr. Kramer?"
Kramer: "Yeah."
Postmaster General: "Kramer, I've been, uh, reading some of your material here. I gotta be honest with you: you make a pretty strong case. I mean, just imagine. An army of men in wool pants running through the neighborhood handing out pottery catalogs, door to door."
Kramer: "Yeah! Ha ha."
Postmaster General: "Well, it's my job. And I'm pretty damn serious about it. In addition to being a postmaster, I'm a general. And we both know, it's the job of a general to, by God, get things done. So maybe you can understand why I get a little irritated when someone calls me away from my golf."
Kramer: "I'm very, very sorry."
Postmaster General: "Sure, you're sorry. I think we got a stack of mail out at the desk that belongs to you. Now, you want that mail, don't you Mr. Kramer?"
Kramer: "Sure do!"
Postmaster General, receiving a salute from Kramer: "Now, that's better."
Kramer (seeing Newman walk into the office with a bucket on his head, escorted by a security man): "Geez. Newman?"
Newman, (whimpering): "Tell the world my story."
