Fraters Libertas

The Dream Is Over (Or Has it Just Begun?)

On Friday I received notice from the US Postal Service that that the lease term on the Fraters Libertas P.O. Box ends on July 31. After much discussion about keeping it open, perhaps as an historical attraction, we’ve made the painful decision to let it lapse.

And with it we watch the lapsing of an era. It was rented months ago, in the dark, uncertain days before the war. A time when the country’s moral compass seemed to be trembling between the cardinal directions of living up to our responsibilities to make a safer, better world and that of preemptive surrender and appeasement of evil.

For a while the forces of the Left seemed to be irresistibly pulling us toward the latter, with their nationalistic nihilism, their relentless impugning of our elected leaders’ motives, and their grim predictions of certain disaster and doom.

But that’s where we stepped in, with the “Deserve Victory!” bumper sticker campaign. Shortly thereafter, the country united behind the just cause of intervention, our brave armed forces went in, and now millions of Iraqis are free and for the first time in their history, looking forward to a brighter future.

Yes, it’s hard to say we turned the tide of public opinion. But to misquote Margaret Meade, “never doubt that a few dozen people with Churchillian slogans on their rear bumpers can change the world. Indeed, it's the only thing that has.” (When asked for elaboration, it is reported Ms. Meade went on to say “Sh*t happens!”).

In total, several dozen stickers were sold (for tax purposes, the Elder requests I not divulge a specific amount). Another couple dozen were distributed gratis to key opinion leaders (like Mitch Berg, the Atomizer’s dad, my landlady, and Tyrel Ventura).

The rest remain in reserve, ready to be unleashed as soon as Syria or Iran step out of line (or until someone agrees to purchase the rest, in conjunction with our new promotion called "a dime a dozen," targeting parakeet owners and those bathroom training new puppies).

In the beginning the sticker sales were brisk, all via the PayPal account we established to handle the orders. It was exciting and the upward bounds of this enterprise seemed unlimited. In an attempt to tap into the legions of customers we knew were waiting to buy, but who were e-commerce averse, we made the decision to get a P.O. Box.

I still remember that sunny morning I headed down to my local branch office, filled out the application, and boldly checked the “yes” box when asked if merchandise was to be sold via this account. (My pride swelled as I realized this is how the inventors of Sea Monkeys and X-Ray Specs must have felt when they first started their commercial empires).

Then the clerk asked me what size box I needed. I was caught by surprise, not realizing there were multiple sizes. After a quick check of the Fraters budget for this enterprise, I was forced to select the smallest size. But not until I loudly speculated that I’d probably need a bigger one. Maybe a lot bigger! And real, real soon!

Among those in the post office lobby that day, heads turned, eyebrows arched, young women's hearts fluttered, and everyone wondered, ‘who is this dashing young entrepreneur and what is he selling?’

In retrospect, I should have peddled some product right then and there. Because after I made the investment ($32 for six months), the shameless promotion on Fraters commenced (here, here, here, and here), the P.O. Box was emphasized (here), and we sat back waiting for that old money to start rolling in.

And we waited. And waited. And waited. And .... we’re still waiting.

That’s right, throughout the entire promotional campaign, not a single bumper sticker order was received via the P.O. Box. My daily electric anticipation-filled trips into the post office dropped to optimistically hopeful bi-weekly trips. Then to anxiously desperate weekly trips. And finally to bitterly resigned, once-a-month funereal marches.

In a final bit of divinely-inspired comedy, when checking the P.O. Box last Friday, along with the post office’s termination notice, there was also newsletter from the local hospital, entitled “Depression: It can strike anyone, at any time. Know the warning signs.”

Well Lord, thanks for thinking about me, but I’m doing fine. A little sad sure, but ultimately wiser and stronger for the effort. We entered the fray, fought the good fight, and we Deserved Victory! In a broader sense, that’s exactly what we got.

(Plus all that hard core pornography. Gentlemen of Fraters, the clock is up in about a week. Please reroute your subscriptions accordingly).