Some letters that say OPEN IMMEDIATELY you ignore, because it's a great deal on new windows, and the old ones still work. I mean, you can see through them. If they all turn black someday, then maybe you'll open that letter.

But an OPEN IMMEDIATELY from the bank gets your attention. Hey, it's a new bank card! With a chip, which prevents fraud! You stick it into a slot, and it slows down the checkout process by at least a minute, and during that time the clerk sizes you up to see if you're nervous, like a scammer would be. That's what the chip does, I think.

The other OPEN IMMEDIATELY letter was from the Department of Motor Vehicles. Hmm. Why? I got my tags, Maybe it's a letter to remind me to actually put them on, a step that eludes me until it's the middle of the next month and I see flashing lights in the rearview mirror. No, this was an apology. The letter said my tag-application letter — OK, the bill, let's be honest — was missing the space for listing insurance information "due to a vendor error."

Someone's working on his résumé this week.

If I could just send in my info? Thanks. But there was no stamped envelope. They screwed up, but you pay the postage.

A letter from the sheriff doesn't need to say OPEN IMMEDIATELY. That one you open up pronto. It's like a letter from the IRS. They never write to say, "Everything's good, how are the dependents?" The sheriff letter raised my curiosity. Maybe cutbacks have required a new approach: "Hey, we're pretty busy down here at the sheriff place, so if you'd read yourself your Miranda rights and drop by this week that'd be great."

No, it was an offer to join an association that supports sheriffs. I'd get a membership card. Cool, if you're 8. If I saw crime I could say, "Call the sheriff, there is crime!" No need to thank me, it's just what we do in Sheriff Club!"

Now, that may sound snide. Probably because it is. I'm sure these organizations do great things for fine people, but there was also an offer for a window decal for your car. Please stop this. A) People think it will help them if they get pulled over. And B) people really know that it won't, so what's the point? If I have a sticker and I'm doing 85 down University Avenue while wiping blue ink from an exploding dye pack off the interior of the car, it's not like a sheriff will see the sticker, chuckle, and say, "Why, someone had a fountain-pen accident. Godspeed, supporting citizen." Unless he got a radio dispatch: BOLO for a green Honda, occupied one time, white male, current license tabs, expired Sheriff's Club card.

OK, now I feel bad for making fun of sheriffs, so I'm going to send for the card and sticker. But I won't put my tabs on. Let's see if the sticker helps when I'm pulled over. "License, registration and debit card with chip, please." Why do you need that? "It has your permanent record, sir." Including the time I got in trouble for simulating flatulent noises in the crook of my elbow during kindergarten naptime?

"The chip is a window into your life history, sir. Sit tight for me and I'll be right back."

Should have opened that letter about the windows. No, should have opened the one from the company selling blinds.

james.lileks@startribune.com • 612-673-7858 • Twitter: @Lileks • facebook.com/james.lileks