[When it was still an art form]
Date: Sat, 30 Dec 2000 07:36:33 -0500 (EST)
From: ##### <####@qlink.queensu.ca>
To: ##########
Subject: Mass email for New Year's
Dear People On This List,
I swore I'd never do it again, but newly ingrained habits die hard, harder than old habits die hard. Yes, this habit of making everyone feel depersonalized via the odious mass email is dying hard with a vengeance.
I blame the cold weather. You might say it has frozen all the human feeling that is left in me. Some of you might also say that I was a soulless monster anyway, what with already having sent three other de-individualizing mass emails out in the past eight months anyways (I reluctantly recall a May 6 mass email and September 8 mass email, and a short, some would say nasty and brutish Dec 13 mass email). If you have already dialed up your OPP bureau, asking for my head on a plate, and demanding that my email-writing fingers be cut off and preserved in a jar as a symbolic act of retribution, then I understand.
Yes, I understand if you would do that. Just know that I am wilier than any of you.
Yes, I am both foxy and wily, and if you think I will lie down and let you cut my fingers off without some evil payback of my own somewhere down the line, then think again, peasants! I will reveal nothing more. Revenge is a dish best served cold. With a side order of humiliation. Go ahead, enjoy my severed fingers preserved in a jar! I still have my very capable and evil reptile brain to plot and hatch future machinations (indeed, the brain is the root of all email, 'mass'ive and otherwise, and even a stumpy-fisted evil mastermind can have tricks up his sleeve, though there be no mittens on his on hands). Maybe you should be thinking long term with your acts of retributive justice, instead of scheming these near-sighted and downright petty digit-severing childish acts of vengeance. You ought to think these things out before you start brandishing a saw willy-nilly and demand my fingers in a jar. I just admitted (my facade of wiliness breached in a moment of openness andtruthfulness, probably sparked subconsciously by the one remainingcompassionate sector of my brain, the one part not yet wholly consumed by reptilian evil, the one part of me fighting to break free from the rest and proclaim itself human, and good), that my brain is reptile. If my brain is evil and reptile, why wouldn't my fingers be reptile as well?
Like the wily salamander who's had its tail cut off in a life-or-death 'imbroglio', why couldn't I simply regrow my fingers in time and recommence writing mass emails, continuing the evil all the more, adding to it like a small child adds Lego bricks to a castle, until the castle (and, in my case, the evil) reaches the heavens and thereupon only God Himself can stop me! Oh, the wickedness of it all!
If the harsh Canadian winters have taught me anything (and they rarely teach me much--indeed, the sub zero extremities of the season usually slow down the blood flow in my brain to a Saharan trickle, resulting in an evil mastermind who, though wily, is at his most relatively dull-witted in winter-time, hence the possibility of having his fingers cut off and preserved in a jar becomes a veritable concern, whereas in other climates an evil mastermind of comparable scale would never have fear of getting part of him amputated, because the warmer weather would allow blood flow in the brain to be at maximum, and such finger-chopping conspiracies would be nipped in the bud, perhaps by an evilly-masterminded pre-emptive counter-offensive, plotted and hatched by a smoothly functioning reptile evil brain. For example, before you had the opportunity of dialing up your local police bureau and calling for my head on a plate and my fingers separated from my hands and displayed, label and all, in this now-clichéd finger jar, a warm-weather, brain-well-lubed evil genius would have done something evil to prevent you from accomplishing your goal of retributive mass-email penance, before you even picked up the phone. Say, for example, that I fire-bombed your house. Good luck amputating my fingers then! I would think that rescuing your cat and your loved ones from the charred inferno would be higher up on your 'to do' list than making examples out of workaday evil masterminds! But I am completely abusing this parenthesis. Remember, I was trying to make a point before all this talk of how a warm weather evil mastermind would fend off a finger-chomping conspiracy much better than I would be able to, in my frigid 'lukewarm if I'm lucky, blood flow at a trickle' state...here goes what's on the other side of this bracket. Props to my friend ####...'if the harsh Canadian winters have taught me anything..') it's how to die hard with a vengeance.
Wow, I have now been writing this email for an hour and a half. That's how much this topic concerns me.
To sum up my introduction to this email: All of you can kiss my ass!
ON TO THE REST OF THE EMAIL:
I just wanted to say Happy New Year to everybody on this list, and Happy New Year to everyone else too. I hope you still love me. Forgive my hair-trigger tangents. Let this be my belated XMAS
present to you. I know mass emails aren't a unique gift, but at least you don't have to fight off crowds in the GAP to exchange it. Small consolation...
Lata
####
Showing posts with label email archives. Show all posts
Showing posts with label email archives. Show all posts
7/27/2009
7/05/2006
email I never sent you on my birthday
the truth (emotional, not objective. hard on the stomach but it sets you free?)i guess i come on too strongi should never have told you that i like you so much. it's given you a big head.and i know this is none of my business but -i can't kiss you any more if you're sleeping around.but you're right, it's actually very much my business. but what i mean i have no right to wish you wouldn't mess around, which is another no-brainer. or maybe i do have a right, not an objective one but certainly an emotional one.i guess that is my fear, that i'm just another notch on your scorecard, a one-dimensional idiot in one of your stories. maybe some guys could deal with that buti can't, ie can't still want to be intimate with you even when i know you are having 'personal time' with others. it's not that I believe in monogamy so much asi deserve better. or maybe i don't deserve better, buti would eventually want you as my girlfriend - this much i have come to understand about me and my developing feelings for you, feelings you are trying to stamp out in their infant stages, perhaps because i'm simply not that attractive (um, no) perhaps b/c you don't want to hurt me because i'm 'nice'. and you don't trust yourself not to hurt me, because you seem to have a lot of baggage which you don't hesitate to bring up in order to scare me. hey, nothing helps a neurosis like spreading it around. everyone has a past, i can live with that. i can deal with baggage. but what i can't live with- you are sending out so many signals that youdon't want to or can't be with me, at the same time you lean in to kiss me. now i enjoy kissing you immensely but i'm reading the signals loud and clear.i know i deserved to have my mind fucked with afterthe way i dealt with the m____ thingmaybe you felt like second fiddle, which i feel truly awful about, but ireally i thought i was doing the proper thing by telling you i couldn't go out with youbecause she was there first, which is really the only reason, ie that she and i had more ofa history which when i read it over actually sounds gutless and even more horrible. but that is so in the past, an immature relationship with absolutely no intimacy - and i'm trying i'm trying to move forward.you keep bringing up her name whenever i tell you that'i like you too much', which makes it basically impossible to move forward,as though for some reason youdon't believe that i like you, like you as in like you for you, not just because you are hot or pretty or it's what i need to say to get you to sleep with me. trust me i don't want to sleep with someone who isn't madly attracted to me or who has doubts as to whether i'm worth it. i am realizing now i should back off. that's what you want. you suspect that i'm not worth it.some things i guess i shouldn't tell, or ask. but you say that you like the truth, well here it isi really do like you, am seriously attracted to yo, mind and body, and perhaps yes i'm looking for a little soul.i wish you could believe that; you choose not to, or you just like to play games i'm not sure, or perhaps i suspect this worst of all - that you don't trust yourself not to screw it up if we were serious so you'll sabotage it from the getgo and hey that's why you keep telling me how you're moving out of town within the year. ok i get it that's a pretty obvious hint. but part of me suspects it's an attempt at fooling me into thinking it could never work but really you're fooling yourself to believe it will never work because you realize to your dismay i am a goddamn good catch and oh the irony now you've got me on the hook - there for the taking - but you're afraid to get tossed overboard yourself, lose control and so you're trying to throw me back before your life gets jarred from its newfound comfort zone. well on a superficial level i can understand you value comfort and but really that's just cruel and for someone who hates fishing it's damn hypocritical to let me danglei'm sorry. really not in the habit of being this conceited. unforgivable really.- I still think we can be incredible.(no pressure)
11/06/2005
How to become one of my bitches
(found this in the email pantry...for Sass)
Nov 23, 2000
Dear Sass,
I commend you on your desire to be included among my fold of bitches. If you'll excuse the extreme and unattractive arrogance (which you must submit to if you truly desire bitchiness--after all, why have bitches if you can't be extremely and unattractively arrogant around them?)--wanting to be one of my bitches de facto guarantees you a spot twixt the others of your ilk. Congratulations, welcome to a life of sugar daddying and ho-ing it up--the life of one of my bitches.
Don't worry about what to do--let it happen naturally; do what the others do (Indeed, let it not surprise you that I be surrounded by three or four of your bitchy brethren, in addition to yourself, whenever I am "seen" "in public"). Take fashion cues from the others: short skirts, plenty of cleavage; giggle and be ticklish. It helps if you don't talk that much (that could be a tough one)--let your sexy body speak for you. Try never to complain--except if you're complaining that the other bitches get more attention than you--that sort of in-fighting, while emotionally destructive amongst bitches themselves, tends to pump up the ego of the bitch-master (and in this case, I would be your bitch-master), and there's plenty of good things that go along with a massive ego. Be honoured that you even know me, and say wonderful things about me in my absence (even though I may treat you with occasional and wanton coldness, when another bitch in particular has momentarily seized my insatiable attention span). Intermittently thank your lucky stars. Directly link your self-esteem level to the various snippits of my grunting and acknowledgments that you might construe as some sort of compliment (e.g. you say "[Cupcake], I just got my hair done for you. Isn't it marvy?"; I say "Huh? Who are you? Where's Diane?"- this sort of romantic exchange should be the highlight of your evening). When I smile, feel good about yourself; when I am upset, find a way to take the blame (if indeed I don't take the initiative and blame you outright). Sexual favours are not necessarily compulsory--you may find that you achieve orgasm simply by touching my leather jacket, in which case all other romantic activity would be redundant. Otherwise, most of my bitches are not offended when I read porn (sometimes even gay porn) WHILE getting it on with them, so try to go along with that too. At all times be courteous to my family, especially my mother. Being a hot-blooded Latin, you can expect that, while I allow you to be one of my bitches, I will nonetheless describe you as "just some bitch" to my dear mamma (who is truly the only female I could ever respect), and complain to her how there aren't enough marriageable bitches out there who are willing to both cook me dinner AND mop the floors (you do mop floors, don't you?). Never swear, except when talking about your rival bitches, and be nice to children, even though you will never have any with me.
Once again, congratulations. We're glad you could join us.
Nov 23, 2000
Dear Sass,
I commend you on your desire to be included among my fold of bitches. If you'll excuse the extreme and unattractive arrogance (which you must submit to if you truly desire bitchiness--after all, why have bitches if you can't be extremely and unattractively arrogant around them?)--wanting to be one of my bitches de facto guarantees you a spot twixt the others of your ilk. Congratulations, welcome to a life of sugar daddying and ho-ing it up--the life of one of my bitches.
Don't worry about what to do--let it happen naturally; do what the others do (Indeed, let it not surprise you that I be surrounded by three or four of your bitchy brethren, in addition to yourself, whenever I am "seen" "in public"). Take fashion cues from the others: short skirts, plenty of cleavage; giggle and be ticklish. It helps if you don't talk that much (that could be a tough one)--let your sexy body speak for you. Try never to complain--except if you're complaining that the other bitches get more attention than you--that sort of in-fighting, while emotionally destructive amongst bitches themselves, tends to pump up the ego of the bitch-master (and in this case, I would be your bitch-master), and there's plenty of good things that go along with a massive ego. Be honoured that you even know me, and say wonderful things about me in my absence (even though I may treat you with occasional and wanton coldness, when another bitch in particular has momentarily seized my insatiable attention span). Intermittently thank your lucky stars. Directly link your self-esteem level to the various snippits of my grunting and acknowledgments that you might construe as some sort of compliment (e.g. you say "[Cupcake], I just got my hair done for you. Isn't it marvy?"; I say "Huh? Who are you? Where's Diane?"- this sort of romantic exchange should be the highlight of your evening). When I smile, feel good about yourself; when I am upset, find a way to take the blame (if indeed I don't take the initiative and blame you outright). Sexual favours are not necessarily compulsory--you may find that you achieve orgasm simply by touching my leather jacket, in which case all other romantic activity would be redundant. Otherwise, most of my bitches are not offended when I read porn (sometimes even gay porn) WHILE getting it on with them, so try to go along with that too. At all times be courteous to my family, especially my mother. Being a hot-blooded Latin, you can expect that, while I allow you to be one of my bitches, I will nonetheless describe you as "just some bitch" to my dear mamma (who is truly the only female I could ever respect), and complain to her how there aren't enough marriageable bitches out there who are willing to both cook me dinner AND mop the floors (you do mop floors, don't you?). Never swear, except when talking about your rival bitches, and be nice to children, even though you will never have any with me.
Once again, congratulations. We're glad you could join us.
3/07/2004
What the ^&%#!@ is this??
The following is a telegraphed report from Lieutenant Salty Nipple, during an invasion of his battalion fortress by hostile rebel forces, in response to an earlier transmission by one Major Cobud at base headquarters.
What it all means: hmm. your guess is as good as mine. Enjoy!
"URGENT URGENT...
Major Cobud,
This is Salty Nipple speaking for Captain Grey Eagle..the Eagle wounded grievously by a volley of melons during field maneouvres...will attempt to convey recent hectic events in and around the hot centres of rebel activity...WARNING:
code may---a kh sf breaK UP on occasion...transmission officer down with case of utter foolishness...communications asst. Lt. Milo Farnsworth has defected for Aussie curling team--search in progress amidst sheep and bovine country.... patience requested cmdr {comm breaking up}...
Extreme action has been taken in the past two days... psyches are quivering from ij5o35 {code failure} asdasdasjd cognitive dissonance... due to philosophical pressure, men discarding behaviourism for mentalism--Watson out, Titchener in ...
endeavoured afjhsk sa {code problem} first to manufacture dissent within inner circle of rebel high command...our link to rebels is disgruntled english cripple--Tony Motocar...implanted toxic array of herbs and spices
within neural nets of Motocar's superior colliculus...feeb uncooperative at first--soon submitted after series of well-placed bitch slaps to face and ears...Motocar may prove 4353kksk {code problem} turncoat--alternative course of action? staple explosives to billy goat, catapult into rebel bunkers; wait for BOOM...
>
***HAVE SENT BACK UP TROOPS OF OUR COUSINS TO THE NORTH ( A BAND OF K-TOWNIES) WHO HAVE GROSSLY MISSHAPEN AND QUITE PIMPLY FOREHEADS. THESE CRETINS WILL SCARE THE ENEMY MORE THAN ANY POCKET KNIFE EVER WILL. PLUS, DUE TO THEIR INHERITED COLON PROBLEMS, THE K-TOWNIES ARE ADAMANT IN THEIR
DESIRE, NAY NEED, TO PROTECT OUR SWEET SWEET HONEY-COATED BRANFLAKES. HAVE ALSO DISPATCHED A BAND OF HOTTIE SKANKS TO GIVE SOLACE TO THE MEN. THEY HAVE SMUGGLED THE REQUESTED CODEINE INTO THE CAMP BY SECRETING IT WITHIN THE MASSIVE DEPTHS OF THEIR SILICONE IMPLANTS.
>
Reinforcements have proved able and malleable to our designs...Grey Eagle expresses thanks from hospital operating table... branflakes no longer critical issue due to influx of soy-based snacks... skanks yet to be fondled in the line of duty ...the men's aching desire yet to be quenched...
> *** THESE ARE DESPERATE TIMES, AND DESPERATE TIMES CALL FOR DESPERATE MEASURES - CRACKER+BUTTTER RATIONING WILL HAVE TO SUFFICE. TELL THE MEN THAT SOME OF THE AFOREMENTIONED SILICONE IMPLANTS HAVE RASPBERRY JAM IN THEM. NO MATTER WHAT ENDS UP ON THIER CRACKERS - CODEINE OR JAM, I'M SURE THIS TREAT WILL SEND THEM TO UNPARALELLED LEVELS OF BLISS, AND GIVE THEM MANY CAVITIES (UNFORTUNATELY).
news from the quartermaster: lack of toast remains our achilles heel, commander... cracker/butter diversion [regardless of jam content] merely inflamed restless spirits... men collapsing from elbow exhaustion ... increasing refusal to watch any and all reruns of 'Friends'--understandable yet unacceptable...request permission to brow-beat pet grasshopper with humiliating memories of larval-stage incontinence... such action will instill obedience in enlisted men who fear
analogous verbal tactics...
...some positive news: Rebels deemed 'smelly' by passing motorist; much assenting and huzzahs from men... captn. fitzwiggin received two dozen pounds of liquid bromine in care package from parents--bodes well for aspiring chemists in 'G' company... eleven spaniards discovered in kitchen sink--refugees from Barcelona plumbing
conflict--may prove competent whiz-bangers and/or bang-whizzers...
...Loss of G.E. may demolish chance at defeating rebels in many theatres of conflict--especially all-county pie-eating contest in June... high command has ordered immediate and thorough cessation of mitotic cell division within camp--hopes to baffle rebels with biological conundrum-- Salty Nipple skeptical at such anti-genetican practice...
Also from High Command:
pencils forbidden, except for use in long division and ass-scratching... new command slogan, "less class, more sass" met with random clucking and repentance among men...
{code problems}
URGENT URGENT
Major Cobud, rebels have breached outer wall...hand-to-gland combat ensuing... we must beat back malodourous pervs...IMMEDIATE ERUCTATION NEEDED...I REPEAT: IMMEDIATE ERUCTATION NEEDED...
i must...
[transmission severed].......
???????the end??????????
(what do YOU think happened after Salty Nipple got cut off from Major Cobud?)
What it all means: hmm. your guess is as good as mine. Enjoy!
"URGENT URGENT...
Major Cobud,
This is Salty Nipple speaking for Captain Grey Eagle..the Eagle wounded grievously by a volley of melons during field maneouvres...will attempt to convey recent hectic events in and around the hot centres of rebel activity...WARNING:
code may---a kh sf breaK UP on occasion...transmission officer down with case of utter foolishness...communications asst. Lt. Milo Farnsworth has defected for Aussie curling team--search in progress amidst sheep and bovine country.... patience requested cmdr {comm breaking up}...
Extreme action has been taken in the past two days... psyches are quivering from ij5o35 {code failure} asdasdasjd cognitive dissonance... due to philosophical pressure, men discarding behaviourism for mentalism--Watson out, Titchener in ...
endeavoured afjhsk sa {code problem} first to manufacture dissent within inner circle of rebel high command...our link to rebels is disgruntled english cripple--Tony Motocar...implanted toxic array of herbs and spices
within neural nets of Motocar's superior colliculus...feeb uncooperative at first--soon submitted after series of well-placed bitch slaps to face and ears...Motocar may prove 4353kksk {code problem} turncoat--alternative course of action? staple explosives to billy goat, catapult into rebel bunkers; wait for BOOM...
>
***HAVE SENT BACK UP TROOPS OF OUR COUSINS TO THE NORTH ( A BAND OF K-TOWNIES) WHO HAVE GROSSLY MISSHAPEN AND QUITE PIMPLY FOREHEADS. THESE CRETINS WILL SCARE THE ENEMY MORE THAN ANY POCKET KNIFE EVER WILL. PLUS, DUE TO THEIR INHERITED COLON PROBLEMS, THE K-TOWNIES ARE ADAMANT IN THEIR
DESIRE, NAY NEED, TO PROTECT OUR SWEET SWEET HONEY-COATED BRANFLAKES. HAVE ALSO DISPATCHED A BAND OF HOTTIE SKANKS TO GIVE SOLACE TO THE MEN. THEY HAVE SMUGGLED THE REQUESTED CODEINE INTO THE CAMP BY SECRETING IT WITHIN THE MASSIVE DEPTHS OF THEIR SILICONE IMPLANTS.
>
Reinforcements have proved able and malleable to our designs...Grey Eagle expresses thanks from hospital operating table... branflakes no longer critical issue due to influx of soy-based snacks... skanks yet to be fondled in the line of duty ...the men's aching desire yet to be quenched...
> *** THESE ARE DESPERATE TIMES, AND DESPERATE TIMES CALL FOR DESPERATE MEASURES - CRACKER+BUTTTER RATIONING WILL HAVE TO SUFFICE. TELL THE MEN THAT SOME OF THE AFOREMENTIONED SILICONE IMPLANTS HAVE RASPBERRY JAM IN THEM. NO MATTER WHAT ENDS UP ON THIER CRACKERS - CODEINE OR JAM, I'M SURE THIS TREAT WILL SEND THEM TO UNPARALELLED LEVELS OF BLISS, AND GIVE THEM MANY CAVITIES (UNFORTUNATELY).
news from the quartermaster: lack of toast remains our achilles heel, commander... cracker/butter diversion [regardless of jam content] merely inflamed restless spirits... men collapsing from elbow exhaustion ... increasing refusal to watch any and all reruns of 'Friends'--understandable yet unacceptable...request permission to brow-beat pet grasshopper with humiliating memories of larval-stage incontinence... such action will instill obedience in enlisted men who fear
analogous verbal tactics...
...some positive news: Rebels deemed 'smelly' by passing motorist; much assenting and huzzahs from men... captn. fitzwiggin received two dozen pounds of liquid bromine in care package from parents--bodes well for aspiring chemists in 'G' company... eleven spaniards discovered in kitchen sink--refugees from Barcelona plumbing
conflict--may prove competent whiz-bangers and/or bang-whizzers...
...Loss of G.E. may demolish chance at defeating rebels in many theatres of conflict--especially all-county pie-eating contest in June... high command has ordered immediate and thorough cessation of mitotic cell division within camp--hopes to baffle rebels with biological conundrum-- Salty Nipple skeptical at such anti-genetican practice...
Also from High Command:
pencils forbidden, except for use in long division and ass-scratching... new command slogan, "less class, more sass" met with random clucking and repentance among men...
{code problems}
URGENT URGENT
Major Cobud, rebels have breached outer wall...hand-to-gland combat ensuing... we must beat back malodourous pervs...IMMEDIATE ERUCTATION NEEDED...I REPEAT: IMMEDIATE ERUCTATION NEEDED...
i must...
[transmission severed].......
???????the end??????????
(what do YOU think happened after Salty Nipple got cut off from Major Cobud?)
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