FWD: FWD:

Okay, so here's my beef with Forwards.  I remember when I was 8 years old and I got a chain-letter in the mail.  I was so excited just to get mail first and foremost.  A hand-written letter for me.  Then after my father sat me down and explained what I got, why I got it, and what I was obligated to do now.  I was suppose to re-write 10 letters, BY HAND, and send it to 10 of my friends.  I'm 8.  How many fucking people do I know?  And their actual postal codes?  Jesus!  Thanks Uncle Fuckrag!  Now I'm going to poop into a shoe box for the rest of the year, and send it to you for Christmas. 

Then as I matured, so did the technology.  Ooh, fancy.  What is this 'Electronic Mail'?  Thats a fucking mouthful.  And I would know, I went to catholic church.  After signing up for about 5 email addresses so I can geek out and send myself emails.  Then before I knew it, someone started sending me Forwarded emails.  Once again, obligating me to find 10 friends I hate, and send cute pictures, or funny stories, or whatever, or else I'd have bad luck for the next 24 years of my life.  Blah blah blah.  I figured, "Hey thank god, they ain't coming through text messages. yet."

So instead of receiving something in the mail, we get a text message, pretty much prompting the same thing.  or else... What shit.  I'm not sure Karma travels through a T1 line.  Or bad luck, or whatever you wanna call it.  I don't mind receiving funny ones.  Maybe a collection of dirty cartoons, or a list of why women are better than cellphones.  Trust me, I'm unemployed, I need something to read while crunching out a duece.  (two feces references in one blog?  Say what!)

But do these fucking people have no life that they take time out of their busy schedule of eatting junk food, and neglecting their new born baby to send me some digital version of a death threat.  Because they are all the same.  They begin with the same sentiment, and end with a list of how many people you can send it to you, in order to either obtain better luck, or get laid by the true love of your life. 

I believe this is the same hokey shit as Psychics.  I'm not too sure I believe in ghosts, goblins, aliens, psychics, demonic possession, ouiji boards, palmreaders, or foreign dentistry.  Sure they make for good stories.  The whole idea of something in your house, that goes bump in the night, oooh.  Scary.  I like it.  I like being scared.  If something suggest there could even be the slightest chance, I am not alone in my room, I curl up under my blanket.  Because deep down I know it's not real, and I have a very good imagination. 

I like reading.  Like when the movie, "Urban Legend" came out.  Sony had a website where people could publish their own urban legends.  I thoroughly enjoyed reading those.  One after another of unedited, blurbs of the unexplained.  And to be honest I don't care for explanations.  I've always been like that.  Even when I was the manager of a restaurant, I don't care about why you showed up late.  Just don't show up late again, or at least call. 

I think thats why some people choose to believe in that shit.  Because it can't be proven, or disproven (without some logic).  But I'm not saying it's all shit.  I'm saying, its fun.  But I seriously don't need people clicking forward, and then selecting my name to send me some unsentimental fuck-a-ree, that doesn't mean anything.  It doesn't mean anything because you never took the time to read it, write it out, and then buy stamps and envelopes to send them beforehand.  I always take the time to tell the sender to fuck his mother.  or her mother.  And before I go to sleep every night, I pray that they were molested as a child. 

But that's just me.  Anyways I should get going, keep in touch.  And Don't forget to miss me!