Dear Greeting Card Companies

People like to say that one of the prime differences between human being and every other creature that we love to hunt down and eat is that in the end, we are smarter.  That is how we are able to build tools, strategize, and conquer those "inferior" beings that swim, fly, or run through the forest and turn them into delicious snacks and handsome throw rugs.  What they refuse to acknowledge is the fact that the thing that will break our species and serve us up to our woodland overlords on a platter is our compliance with the Greeting Card industry. 

Really think about it.  We have conditioned ourselves to buy into a system where it is socially acceptable, nay, expected that we shell out anywhere from $3 to $7 on every single special event in order to buy a cheap piece of card stock that has been printed with something trite, treacly, or idiotic.  Worse, if we do not receive said card, we look down upon those that failed to buy our affection.  What classifies a "special event" is even more ridiculous.  Sure, birthdays, Christmas, weddings, and funerals are understandable.  Father's Day and Mother's day, Valentine's, ok, I won't fight that.  But there are cards for every conceivable holiday.  I do not need to send anyone a Thanksgiving card.  No one needs a "Happy Easter" from me. 

Worst, there are "Thinking of You" cards.  I like to think that I am good with words.  I don't need to go out and pay $5 for a 30 cent piece of paper with something so hokey I would be embarrassed if I came up with it.  If I am thinking of someone, I will send them an email, or a message on Facebook.  I will send them a text, or god forbid give them a phonecall.  One time, I wanted to say hi to my friend Jefe.  Did I send him a Hallmark?  No.  Of course not.  This is what I sent him:

"Ok. I am sorry if the phone conversation got a little heated. I did not mean to sound so judgmental. It is that I simply cannot understand how anyone in this day and age can get scurvy. I mean, Jefe, you could probably eat out of your neighbor's garbage and get enough vitamins to not have scurvy. I just don't understand how you let this happen to yourself."

He had not called, and at that time, he did not have scurvy.  I just took some time, and made his day a little better by making people think he had scurvy.  Another time, I was feeling a little more longwinded, and sent him this:

"Sorry I missed your call last night. I was at work. To answer some of the questions you left in the voicemail, with timestamps for easy reference:
1) I am doing well, and it was good to hear from you. (30 seconds into call)
2) I miss you too. (32 seconds into call)
3) I hope the tornados didn't do any damage around you (1 min, 3 seconds into call)
4) No, I haven't seen the show "Cougartown", but I am sure it is every bit as good as you said it was. (1 min, 23 seconds through 4 minutes, 52 seconds)
5) Yes, I am aware that the band is called "Hall and Oates" and is two people, not called "Holland Oates" and just one person. (5 minutes, 2 seconds through 9 minutes 47 seconds)                                                                                                                              6) I am not sure why your all male Pat Benitar acapella group is not doing as well as you hoped, but I can't move out there and join the group. Mostly because I don't want to be in an all male Pat Benitar acapella group, no matter how "bitchin'" their cover of "Heartbreaker" is. I am sure you did track down the same gloves she wore in the "Love is a Battlefield" video, and no, I am not surprised they fit you perfectly. I have always said you had girly hands. (10 minutes through 17 minutes 13 seconds)
7) While I am sure you have your reasons, I do not understand and am frankly shocked and concerned at the vehement and not so subtly racist comments you made about the Muppet Babies. (17 minutes 44 seconds through 42 minutes).

I will call soon and we will catch up."

 This is a little better than a greeting card with a pre printed blurb that I barely take the time to sign.  This shows that I care enough to besmirch your good name to everyone on you friends list and mine.  Hallmark, your "serious" cards are so saccharine that they make my diabetes hurt, and your "funny" cards are barely a step up from bumper sticker slogans.  The internet is running you out of business, and frankly, it may be for the best.  Your refusal to make your product better, or even remotely price appropriate, will be your downfall.  My rapier wit shall forever overshadow whatever you try to put out there.

Also, if anyone is interested, my poor friend Jefe has a thing going on at http://angryscholar.wordpress.com/ where he reviews horror movies and rates the things he has licked for money.