Not known at this address

This video report tells the moving story of the thousands of people around the world who, every week, send letters to God in Jerusalem. The local post office has to deal with this slew of mail, and has several sorting shelves devoted to it. As the report makes clear, there's a certain logic to this, as letters to God—pleas, confessions, possibly even some special offers if His address has been sold on to any direct marketing firms—are traditionally wedged into the stonework of the Wailing Wall, arguably the world's largest in-tray, and so the post office hands them on to an admin-minded rabbi to do exactly that.


Fig. 1 - Prehistoric critics scorn God's latest invention, the "pointy thing"
That's reasonably unlikely to apply to letters to Jesus, unless the rabbi in question is particularly unorthodox, but that doesn't stop similar numbers of people sending Him letters in the exact same way ("Jesus Christ / Jerusalem / Israel")—although, granted, it is His last known address.


Fig. 2 - Total eclipse of the Jesus
For me, though, the defining moment of the whole report is when the postal worker is holding up letter after holy letter to the camera, and is entirely unsurprised to note that one of them is addressed to Santa.


Fig. 3 - Let there be Coke

Surely such touching and manifold displays of faith mean there's hope yet for us all. It says here.

(no subject)

Just came out of my flat to discover I was in the middle of a police cordon. I'm fine, but I'm currently not allowed to return to where I live. It looks like another major attack.