Summary of This Year’s Important Emails: Thanks for the word about poop in envelope glue; now I have to find a wet towel to seal an envelope. For the same reason, I now scrub the top of every can I open. I gave all my savings to some sick girl who is about to die in some hospital. But I won’t be broke long once I get $15,000 from Bill Gates, Microsoft, and AOL for their special email project. My soul has 363,214 angels

looking out for me. St. Theresa’s novena has granted my every wish. I no longer eat KFC because their chickens are horrible mutant freaks with no eyes or feathers. I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants although I stink like a hot water buffalo. I can’t open any attachment since they all will erase my hard drive and destroy any backups I might have, even if they’re not in the same building. My prayers only get answered if I forward an email to seven or more of my friends and make a wish within five minutes. I no longer buy gasoline without someone watching my car so a serial killer doesn’t crawl in my backseat when I’m busy pumping gas. I no longer drink CocaCola because it removes toilet stains or 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 SaranWrap in the microwave because it causes cancer. I no longer boil water in the microwave because it will blow up in my face, disfiguring me for life. I no longer check the coin return on pay phones because I could be pricked with an AIDS-infected needle. I no longer go to shopping malls because someone could drug me with a perfume sample and rob me. I no longer receive packages from UPS or FedEx since they are actually Al Qaeda operatives. I no longer shop at Target since they are French and don’t support our troops or the Salvation Army. I no longer answer my phone because someone might ask me to dial a number after which I’ll get billed for calls to Jamaica, Uganda, Singapore, and Uzbekistan. I no longer buy expensive cookies from Neiman Marcus since I now have their recipe. I don’t use any toilet but mine because a big brown African spider might be lurking under the seat to cause me instant death. Now I never pick up money dropped in parking lots because it probably was placed there by a sex molester waiting underneath a car to grab my leg. Besides, I no longer drive my car because I can’t buy gas from certain gas companies. Now, if you don’t forward this to at least 144,327 people in the next hour, a large dove with diarrhea will land on your head this afternoon and the fleas from a dozen camels will infest your back, causing you to grow a hairy hump. I know this is true because it actually happened to a friend of my next-door neighbor’s ex-mother-in-law’s second husband’s cousin’s beautician!