The US Postal Service may in fact deserve its apparently imminent destruction.
As described in this blog I am in the habit of signing people's books and returning them, provided that they include a pre-postaged mailer. I have signed and returned dozens of books by now, and I just learned a shocking fact. It seems that book-sized packages can not be mailed via my home mailbox. They must be presented to the almighty Post Office Clerk his-or-herself. But since the mailperson is a mindless mail-delivering automaton, he or she gladly picks up all my packages from my home mailbox and takes them away, despite them being undeliverable.
I have mailed dozens of books this way. And since I am a lazy man, I did not write a return address on any of them. Which means that they have all been sent to the Dead Letter Office: a vast, goblin-staffed warehouse located 5 miles beneath a nondescript corn field in Ohio. There, in the bowels of the Dead Letter Office, all your signed copies of Warm Bodies are being creased, dog-eared, and peed upon by goblins for all eternity.
I'm so sorry.
It's a pretty horrible situation, especially since I specifically promised so many of you, "Yes, I really will sign these and send them back to you!" but there's absolutely nothing I can do about it at this point, other than offer my sincere apologies for your loss and promise to do it right from now on. Keep in mind this only applies to books I received more than a month ago, as I have a big box of newer ones I haven't mailed yet, so if you haven't received your book yet, don't panic--it may simply be due to my own slow reply speed rather than any goblin-related treachery.
That is all. Good day.
P.S I still haven't received any cupcakes, n00ds, or powdered diseases. Very disappointed in you people.