Kate's Point of View

As the holidays approach, my heartfelt appreciation goes out to all of you who have taken the time and trouble to send me “forwards” over the past 12 months. Thank you for making me feel safe, secure, blessed, and wealthy.

Extra thanks to whoever sent me the one about rat crap in the glue on envelopes ’cause I now have to go get a wet towel every time I need to seal an envelope.

Also, I scrub the top of every can I open for the same reason.

Because of your concern I no longer drink Coca Cola because it can remove toilet stains.

I no longer drink Pepsi or Dr Pepper since the people who make these products are atheists who refuse to put “Under God” on their cans.

I no longer use Saran wrap in the microwave because it causes cancer.

I no longer check the coin return on pay phones because I could be pricked with a needle infected with AIDS.

I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day.

I no longer go to shopping malls because someone might drug me with a perfume sample and rob me.

I no longer receive packages from nor send packages by UPS or FedEx since they are actually Al Qaeda in disguise.

I no longer answer the phone because someone will ask me to dial a number for which I will get a phone bill with calls to Jamaica, Uganda, Singapore, and Uzbekistan.

I no longer eat KFC because their “chickens” are actually horrible mutant freaks with no eyes or feathers.

I no longer have any sneakers — but that will change once I receive my free replacement pair from Nike.

I no longer have to buy expensive cookies from Neiman Marcus since I now have their recipe.

I no longer worry about my soul because at last count I have 363,214 angels looking out for me.

Thanks to you, I have learned that God only answers my prayers if I forward an e-mail to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes.

I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl who is about to die in the hospital (for the 1,387,258th time).

I no longer have any money at all – but that will change once I receive the $15,000 that Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special email program.

Forwarded on via some chappie named Bill:

A group of young women have organized to speak out against offensive and degrading Abercrombie t-shirts. I won’t even get into the fact that wearing anything by Abercrombie is inherently degrading. That’s a technicality. These women are specifically upset about the phrase, “Who needs brains when you have these” printed across the chest of a shirt. Another hotly contested shirt reads, “Give me something to scream about.” They feel the shirts are negative and demeaning to those who wear them. Okay, right there it can be concluded that at least half of these women are flat-chested in addition to being prudish harpies. Then Abercrombie tossed the dogs a bone and let them pitch their own t-shirt ideas to company
big-wigs. One of the ideas, which the women assuredly had ample time to concoct mind you; “Your book or mine?” Another idea, “You’re Just Jealous Because I have a 4.0.” Well alright, now we can conclude these women have no detectable sense of humor.

Based on my analysis, with a minimal chance of inaccuracy, I conclude that many of the women have humps on their backs. Most of them will seek refuge in their intellect in order to fill the void that would ordinarily be filled with booze and casual oral sex. They will alienate any men remotely interested in spending more than 15 consecutive minutes with them by
incessantly chattering about dubious academic achievements. Their personal downward spirals will ensue. By my calculations, at least one of them will shun her intellectual consortium and discover that with a couple pounds of make-up and and dim lighting, she is attractive. And upon more discovery, the amount of things she allows anonymous men to place in her orifices has a positive correlation with the level of interest she attracts in local pubs. Wishing to hit the big time, she packs up and goes to Central Illinois and joins a fledgling production house run by amateur pornographers. It is here she espouses opiates and is spit out of the bottom of the industry, but not before she is required to appear at a promotional event for her last film, “Turd Miner’s Daughter.” At the event she is required to wear a shirt that reads, “Give me something to scream about,” one of the very shirts she once protested!

Both the irony and the chorizo stuffed pasta at the said promotional event are absolutely delicious.

The End.

Submitted by Jason N.:

So, my mother recently received the following email from her sister:

Dear X

If you wouldn’t mind, I am taking Friday off to finalize loose ends for the holidays; I have cards, etc. to mail out for Mom to the family. Could you please send me the addresses for your kids? Also, where will you be having your xmas?

Thanks!

Now, a little background – my aunt is a bitch. No question about it, she’s classic high maintenance, low reward. However, my mom’s reply was a bit over the top; here’s just a small sample:

Your patterns are transparent and predictable and you have learned how to make money using the tactics you learned so well as a child: lies, omissions, demands, condescension, veiled threats, emotional outbursts, taking advantage of people’s weaknesses, distortions, guilt trips, set ups, paybacks, exaggeration, belittlement, power trips, bullshit, rationalization, justification, talking circles around people, stroking egos, whatever it takes to keep those balls bouncing.

Fortunately, my sister intervened before this (and the other 10 paragraphs in a similar vein) were sent. The response she actually sent was still pretty damn harsh, given that my aunt just asked for a couple of addresses….