delta laughs
I don’t do Forwards Funny Side Up By Charleen Earley
charleenbearley@gmail.com
I
t was fun at first, innocent and harmless, but now it’s gone too far, and I just can’t take it anymore. Call me the party-pooper here, but I have had it with all the “forwards” of e-mails I receive daily. Grant it, when I do read them, they're witty, lighthearted, R-rated, enlightening, and sometimes even thought provoking, but who has the time? My time is extremely limited as it is, but yes, I do cave to occasional self-indulgent activities here and there, such as eating and sleeping. I realize the senders have no ill intent in mind. I can’t imagine my friends scratching their heads thinking, “Okay, who needs e-mail today? Aha, Charleen can use another forward, I've seen her comedy routine, and it could use some help.” The fact that I write my own comic material could very well be the problem. But the bigger problem at stake here is the volume of forwards, just begging to be opened, read, printed, then forwarded to 80 of my close and personal friends within the next 24 hours, or my computer will self-destruct. Okay, I admit it. I played into this forwarding game once or twice. But I was sick then, and really looking “forward” to the free Gap clothes, because “I just can't get enough, no I just can’t get enough.” www.deltalivingmagazine.com
Never a fan of chain letters, since I was usually the one who broke the link to everyone’s good fortune, I see these “chain-mails” if you will, no different.The only thing missing with these chains are the balls, prison bars and visiting hours. These forwards do nothing more than entrap my thoughts of guilt for sending them directly to the delete file, without even reading them first … “Yes I’m sure,” I answer my computer. I would jump with joy to come home just once and open all 500 e-mails of personal, endearing, “I wrote it myself,” even poetic love notes from family and friends. Instead, the only personal part in the forward is usually … “You’ve gotta read this.” What I’d love to do (but never would), is to forward that same e-mail to the hundreds of addresses I have to scroll down to before the message even begins, and say, “You’ve gotta delete this!” I already have books on quotes, quips, anecdotes and 50 ways to leave my lover - then get him back
again. And if I really want to know how crazy life can be, I just read the articles in the daily paper, or station a camcorder in my house – or Tim Biglow’s house! And can anyone tell me whom the original copywriter is, who gets the message started in the first place? Perhaps this person is tucked away somewhere in a dark office filled with books, magazines and the all the letters ever sent to Ann Landers. Maybe, just maybe the originator of these forwards doesn’t have a life; therefore no one else should either. Now I realize in writing this, I may burn a bridge with my dad, sister, brother, best friend, boss, boyfriend and even my dentist, but what am I really risking here? A larger phone bill, one-on-one verbal communication, root canal? So what if my incoming e-mails dwindle down to zero. At least I’ll have my sanity, the needed extra space of inbox storage, and my monthly internet service bill - who could ask for anything more? True - I thrive on communication, but live interaction, not cutesy forwards. I need to hear voice inflections and gut-wrenching laughter. I need to see tears and sweat coupled with expressive emotions. I need to smell fragrances and okay, delete the body odor part, but you get the picture. I don’t want Dolby or Memorex; I just want live communication, plain and simple. Secretly my car must have a bumper sticker on it with the words, “I’d rather be receiving forwards.” Or maybe it’s everyone’s way of getting even with me with the beatitude, “Blessed are those who make others laugh…for they shall get theirs.” My life would be a tad less cluttered if I didn't have all those frolicking, faithful forwards. But if you enjoyed this column, please forward it to all your family and friends! January – March 2015
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