There are a couple, however, who still cling to good old fashioned paper checks like it's the 19th Century out there.
Judging by the hollow clangs from the mailbox over this past week, the Pony Express rider has been ambushed somewhere out around Fort Bridger. I'm fixing to have to type up an email, print it out, and tape it to a carrier pigeon's leg to enquire as to the whereabouts of my dough.
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