What's Up With That?

by Tom Kuzeja - November 13, 1999

What's Up With That?

Chain, Keep Us Together

It's that time of year again. Yep, you guessed it. Time to check your email for chain letters. My particular end of year favorite has to do with a little boy or girl who is, unfortunately, terminally ill. I think they reside in Texas although this is subject to change. Apparently, it is this youth's dying wish that an email be sent all around the world. Only when about 100,000 email headers are on this email will this young child be allowed to rest in peace eternally.

What's up with that? How many kids do you know who are more interested in email headers than they are in 'N Synch and Christina Aguilera? How about a trip to Disney or a visit from Britney Spears or something like that? Newsflash: this little kid cannot die annually in Texas. If you see the email, don't forward it.

Here's another beauty. I'm sure you've seen the one where (again) a terminally ill patient has forwarded a note to a bunch of people claiming that some company in some city would donate five cents for every email header added to the list. Yeah, right.

I'm sick of these emails. Read a poem and then make a wish. If you forward the email to five people, your wish will come true. If you don't, something horrible will happen to you. Nice. Yeah, there's a little of good will. "Forward me, OR ELSE!" And still, they get forwarded to me. And you'd be surprised the people I get them from. (Some of you people are reading this right now). Is that any way to treat one of your friends? To subject them to a contract of conditional good luck? I mean, here I am at work, giving it my best 103% effort when a chain email letter comes and tells me I have to forward it to 10 people for my wish to come true. If I don't, various parts of my body will become inflamed and fall off at random times during the next three weeks. Not only that, but I face the threat of being crushed on my not at all short and not getting any shorter commute home by an ever loving seven ton Ford Excursion SUV.

Family, friends, enemies, coworkers, lend me your ears. Spare me the chain email. I'm having enough trouble with body parts already.

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