How I Learned to Stop Living In Fear and Start Shredding My Junk Mail

America is a Culture of Fear. The role of the government, of the media, of society seems to be to make us afraid of something. Of Anything. Of EVERYTHING.

We’re afraid of terrorism. We’re afraid of global warming. We’re afraid of a recession, of getting cancer, of going sterile because we always keep our cell phone in our pocket. We’re afraid that a casual sexual encounter while in Atlanta may result in our penis falling off.

We’re afraid of eating a cheeseburger from McDonald’s because of the cholesterol and fat. Fear of Heart Disease, Fear of Obesity, Fear of Diabetes all lead to a whole litany of food fears. Fear of Beef. Fear of Cinnabon. Fear of Real Sour Cream. Fear of Eating a Box of 18 Donut Holes for Breakfast.

We’re afraid of drugs, both illegal and prescription. Fear of Becoming Addicted. Fear of Certain Sexual Side Effects. Fear of Erections Lasting More Than Four Hours.

We’re afraid of the weather because we see StormWatch on the local news (and I’m sure it’s the same on every news program in every market). Even if we don’t watch the news, StormWatch will break into regular programming to let us know a storm is coming and we’re ALL GOING TO DIE! So we end up thinking that every raindrop or every snowflake is falling with a taste for human blood, hell bent on killing us all. “Up to 3 inches by morning people! HIDE THE CHILDREN!!!”

But I don’t need to be afraid any more. Because I’ve purchased a junk mail shredder. No more Fear of Identity Theft for me, a fear brought to light by that leather bustier Citi commercial a few years ago.

I used to be safe from identity theft, because mine was not an identity worth stealing. But over the years, my defaulted student loans have faded to obscurity and my FICO score has steadily risen. My debt to income ratio has never looked better and the credit limit on my cards has climbed. And being an improved credit risk has led, more than anything, to a drastic increase in the junk mail I receive.

Usually I would throw my junk mail in the Giant Useless (Not Food Safe For Decorative Purposes ONLY) Bowl that sat on my dining table. My thinking was this gave the Giant Useless (Not Food Safe For Decorative Purposes ONLY) Bowl a use. When if was full to overflowing after a couple/few weeks, I’d gather up the junk mail, sit down on the couch, and start going through it. I’d tear the credit card statements and offers, the convenience checks from my existing accounts into a few pieces in a surely ineffectual attempt to destroy the pages. Truth be told I was a little uneasy of this.

Dig through my trash, retrieve these torn pages, apply a few pieces of scotch tape and there you have it, my bank statement complete with account number! My idea of securely disposing of these items was to put it in the same trash bag as rotting fruits and vegetables. My logic being that one whiff upon opening the bag sitting in the dumpster and the would be identity thief would move on to the next victim. One with better smelling garbage.

But now, all I have to do is jam that potentially dangerous piece of mail into my shredder. Unopened! Then the shredder makes the most satisfying grinding noise as it “maximum security confetti cuts” that unopened junk mail into tiny little pieces than no amount of scotch tape is going to put back together again.

The thing is heavy too. Which makes it seem even more dangerous. Like a weapon. If I’m reading the symbols on the top of the shredder correctly, little encircled pictograms with a line through them, the shredder could potentially kill me. I shouldn’t wear a tie while operating the shredder. Or use it if I have long hair. And it’s not for use to properly dispose of a baby. Or that symbol could mean that babies shouldn’t use the shredder. Which seems like a silly warning. After all, how many credit card offers do you think the average baby gets in the mail? Not many.

Anyway, with my new junk mail shredder I can finally feel safe. Feel like I’ve done something to take control of my life. Feel, for the first time in a long time, be unafraid.

There’s only one big problem…

Now I have no idea what I should do with my Giant Useless (Not Food Safe For Decorative Purposes ONLY) Bowl on the dining table. I don’t want to put food in it… because if I put food in the bowl and then I eat it, I might ingest some chemical used to glaze the bowl that I shouldn’t have ingested and I’m afraid that chemical might give me cancer.