In the mail.
No return address.
Carefully hand-addressed, and postmarked from Dallas, Texas. Do I know anyone in Dallas?
I haven't pored through the whole thing, but it's got the Grim Reaper saying "Hi, there!" on the cover, which is sort've creepy. However, since it's addressed to my husband, it's unlikely to be a crazed art stalker of some sort. Possibly well-meaning relative or something, although they didn't sign the back. Could be generalized junk mail. Could be a joke from a friend. I dunno. S'weird.
If you're not familiar with Jack Chick and the infamous Chick tracts, then A) glance around to make sure you're not living under a rock, and B) you're probably happier that way. He's the most rabid of the rabid Christians, the sort of person that gives all the perfectly nice, pleasant, tolerant Christians, who really do make up the majority of what's generally a well-meaning religion, a really really bad name. He thinks everybody is going to hell, including Catholics, masturbators, and people who say "Damn." He wrote the infamous "Dark Dungeons" comic, which led many well-meaning parents to try to burn their kid's d20s. On the one hand, it's a little scary that people this misguided are out there. On t'other hand, if you're in a good mood, reading through his stuff has a Portal-of-Evil-style hysterical humor to it--it's so over-the-top idiotic and deathly serious that it's practically self-parody. And if you like drinking games, there's the Jack Chick angel-toss drinking game, where you cruise his website and take a shot for every time an angel pitches somebody into the fiery pit of damnation, which oughta get you hammered fairly rapidly and will kill an evening in fine style.