Not surprisingly, working at a newspaper means one is deluged with an avalanche of mail, both the old fashioned kind that comes in envelopes and is printed on paper, as well as the newer-fangled electronic kind.

While I certainly get more than my fair share of mail here – especially e-mail, where currently I have 161 messages stored up in my inbox…and that’s just over the last week or so – it’s not so much the volume I wonder about, but rather the content of some of the items that are sent my way.

For example, several weeks ago I received a pamphlet from the Seattle-based Washington State Communist Party.

Apparently aware that it’s election time (tomorrow is the primary election, so don’t forget to vote), the Washington State Communist Party – blissfully unaware that communism has been relegated to the dustbin of history – is getting its message out.

From what I read in the pamphlet, that message appears to be this: Tax the heck out of the rich and everything will be okay.

It’s hard to believe that with thinking like that, communism didn’t survive.

The funniest piece of mail I have received would have to be a letter I got detailing a “new” invention, which I swear I am not making up: underwear that vibrates via remote control.

The letter touted this product as being able to help romantic partners be reminded of each other even when they weren’t near each other.

The word “stimulation” was used a lot in the letter.

All I could think about – in between hysterical fits of laughter – was how this product would give a whole new meaning to the notion of fighting over the remote.

By far the absolute weirdest items I have received have been two e-mails from some guy in Florida who claims to be an engineer who has designed a revolutionary automotive transmission.

He also claims to be living under an organized crime syndicate and that the police and the FBI kidnap and torture him on a regular basis so that his revolutionary inventions and others like it never see the light of day.

His letters are frighteningly detailed and make me think he doesn’t have both oars in the water, if you catch my drift.

In spite of the creepy e-mails mentioned above, there is one thing I like about getting mail at work: no bills.

“My Two Cents” is a column where the author – who enjoys getting mail at home and is sad when his mailbox is empty – gets in his two cents worth in spite of the old saying that you only get a penny for your thoughts.