So I finally figured out how to take over the world: via the United States Postal Service. Everyone likes to receive letters. That’s why some companies go through all that trouble to make their junk mail look like personal mail. They just need you, the recipient, to open the envelope with feelings of goodwill, and you’re hooked by whatever nonsense is actually in there. Credit cards, herbal Viagra, wigs, finger puppets, what have you . . . get people to open the envelope, and they’ll take anything. Zombies.

So anyway, I have this plan. If I send personal letters to everyone in the world, thanks to the power of the written word (I will use the Montblanc pen I expect to receive as a wedding present), people will do whatever the letters instruct them to do. If, for example, I order them to create one world government under my absolute control, in the process establishing a harem of handsome thirty-something stud muffins to be at my beck and call, they will.

Oh yes, they will.

(I will probably have to offer a bonus gift of a knife that can slice through a can, or a can of spray-on hair. The devil is in the details.)

But wait, there’s more.

Naturally, everyone in the world will have to come to my house, lift me up on their shoulders, and carry me off to my new palace, right? But how will they know where I live?

That’s where John Kerry comes in. You see, a few weeks ago, I donated money to his campaign. In the intervening time, I have received solicitations from countless liberal charities, many disguised as personal letters and all containing millions of customized address labels. I now have enough address labels to sink a ship, enough to send a list of demands to every man, woman, and child on the planet.

Um. Anyone have six billion stamps I can borrow?