On Racism and Socialism -- Part Two

When we last left off, I was having trouble figuring out what kind of make believe gold tournaments I had gone to with a racist. I also foreshadowed that his switch to caps lock and excessive use of punctuation reminded me of something... so let's get back to it, shall we?

So there's a bit of a shift in tone on my part here, but I pretty much felt like I had reached the point of diminishing returns in terms of rationalizing with this man, so I might as well have some fun as long as a positive message is maintained. But dear lord there's so much to be said here. I'm glad Chris doesn't ripe out his black friends, first off, whatever that means. Second, I'm really happy that Harry Potter's dad weighed in with a positive message. He was the only one out of the nearly three dozen recipients of the original joke to speak up (or at least to hit "reply all"). This is because he is magic, and I appreciate that. And third, I finally figured out just what it was that Chris's text mannerisms reminded me of: the cliff-diving vocal stylings of the illustrious band Complete, particularly in the song "Beautiful Sunrises," which makes me inexcusably happy and which I quote above. In case you're not acquainted (or even if you are), go ahead and give it a listen:

Now go back and read that first reply of his while this is playing and tell me you don't hear the rest of these emails in that voice. That beautiful, painful voice. Anyway, with that in mind, let's continue:

And that's the end of that OH WAIT NO IT'S NOT because despite Chris's request that I not send to him anymore, he continued to send to me. This time it was a lovely collection of images custom-made for retirees, of which I will show you only a select few:

Honestly, as corny, poorly made, and groan-worthy as these images are, they are still a vast improvement in attitude. Although that second image with a man leading kids through a lone, misty wood almost suggests that child abduction is superior to buying children. And whoever made the third image has never seen a phone. Or an angle. Or their own writing. And the last one could be used to shrug off the criticisms of people who call him out on things like, say, racism. But I hope Chris realizes that I love him. I made sure to let him know I support his newfound positivity:

"You're not who I think you are" is my new favorite paradox. Maybe I shouldn't have clued him in as to how I keep sending to him. Ah well, live and learn I guess. And that's all for now. I hope we've all learned a valuable lesson here, and I hope all my readers have beautiful sunrises. 

BEAUTIFUL SUNRISE FOR YOU  (*points out of screen*)

BEAUTIFUL SUNRISE FOR YOU  (*points out of different screen*)

BEAUTIFUL SUNRISE FOR YOU AND YOU AND YOUANDAUAGHGHGUAG (*points manically in all directions, narrowly missing heroin cowgirl*)

(*gets tired, sits down*)

I love you.

On Racism and Socialism -- Part One

Brace yourselves for one of the ugliest emails I've ever gotten, and that includes the one full of selfies from your mom (just kidding, your mother is a beautiful strong woman and you can tell her I said so). This one's a doozy in more ways than one, but one of those ways is length, so I've had to split it in two.

This hurts in so many ways. This is the type of idea that, in my humble opinion fact, has hugely damaged and confused American culture (and others as well!) -- that poor minorities are hell bent on exploiting social services and that as a result we should have neither poor minorities nor services for the poor, and that these two things alone are the reason why good upstanding white folks aren't doing as well as they feel they should be. I stared at that "joke" for hours trying to figure out the best way to respond. I can't be sure I found the best way, but here's what I came up with: 

Chris's forward was sent to dozens of people (all of whom I replied to), so I wasn't sure just how close he and other Ben were. I decided not to play too much of a character, but to try to somewhat seriously talk the guy down while trying (not entirely successfully, perhaps) not to talk down to him. Apparently this was a little out of character for his Ben:

I like how he switches to upper case halfway through the first sentence. This reminds me of something, but I don't figure out what until a couple emails down. I also like how he shouts his name in the middle of the email like a Pokemon. At this point I was still trying to pretend to be someone he knew, hoping a religious appeal might hit home better than mall-sneeze metaphors and lumps. 

Okay hold up, a make believe gold tournament? I don't really know what that is but I accidentally drew it for you just now, I'm sorry:

Here are Chris and Ben just having the grandest time with the free front row tickets they got. I hope that hurt you as much as it hurt me. Stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion!

On Equipment

First, let's take a moment to appreciate how far technology has come. We take it for granted that we can basically run a website from our phones (admittedly, I do rely on good ol' mspaint to stitch the images together, but the rest is phone-based). Just 15 years ago, this was the best we had to offer, although, quite honestly, that is a pretty impressive piece of equipment for 1998. It was a simpler, more tedious time. A time when spam as conspicuous and bold as the following roamed the IMAP-pastures:

Speaking of equipment, that link leads to a .equipment address. As in, "www.blahblahblah.equipment". I won't tell you the actual site because this is very clearly spam and going there is surely toxic. But how long have these wordy domain name suffixes been around, and how many more are there? Have I been living in a damn bunker? I did a bit of research and here are some of my favorites:

• .bargain - a whole class of websites you can safely avoid
• .blue - for people who like blue, or for gullible police stations
• .kim - for people named Kim
• .ninja - (no one has ever seen one of these, but they are supposedly dangerous)
• .rich - special websites just for rich people! To be fair, all these other common websites are dirty and crass.
• .red - perfect for website names like "i-hate-f.red" or "hot-and-bothe.red" or "ur-gonna-get-inju.red"

Anyway, learning is fun, but let's stay focused. I knew this was spam, and that the address was most likely a bot, but I answered just in case there was a human on the other line:

I'm sad to announce that by the time I sent this email, ElsieBartusRAP@yahoo.com had already been deleted. 

R.I.P. Eugene. You only required me to really do one thing and I failed. When we emerge from the tunnels to recolonize the earth, I will make things right. I promise.

On Imposters

I try not to meddle too much in "urgent" situations, but I'm still obligated to meddle at least a little.

Turns out you can spell it either way, but now neither of them look right to me. Anyway, after a few hours I got bored and decided to instigate:

I hope all of your problems get okay too, dear readers.

On Endowments

I'm confused as to how I got in on this one. It seems like a forward-chain of which I'm only the final link. You only really need to read the first email and my response, so I marked the boring spots. You're welcome.

I really can't imagine what Shelly's big bro is getting removed. The only time "endowments" seems to be used as slang is when it refers to testicles. So maybe I'm just preaching to the choir-boy here.

On Being OG

Only a British boarding school could speak so seriously with a name like "Giggleswick." I must have a namesake somewhere within Chuckleshire, near Guffawcaster Lane, who would scowl at me down his pince-nez from the inadvertently dick-shaped terraced pergola of his million-pound Gothic Revival home, simply incensed at my frivolous smirk and poor street-manners. But old money is old money, and a truly original gangster would have just that, or enough anyway to solicit a fake-signed request written by someone who can't be bothered to send his own emails.

Oh I do so look forward to spending the summer in Cacklesbury-off-Sniggerville.

On Waiting

This one's short and sweet, like my ex-girlfriend. (I think that is the only ex related joke I've heard that isn't either derisive or self-deprecating. High five, self!)

Not much to say about this one, except that good ol' Jeff didn't try to stop me. Fuck you, Jeff. Who emails for a jump, anyway? I hope you're still waiting.

On Binding

First off, this lady is a Town Manager. She manages a town. I did not know this was a thing but I'm sure it entails making sure Town Employees aren't doubling up on their cigarette breaks and doing the check list at the end of every night when the town closes. It also apparently entails using HUGE amounts of whitespace in emails. Lady, you are making my blog look MESSY.

Here's the full version of that attachment, just so we all have a clear idea of what's going on here:

So this is basically a binder depicting Sonic enjoying his own biography, I guess? I think I'm going to start keeping all my writings in one of these. That way every day I will wake up with enthusiasm to write. And to go fast. Shirlyne is not on board, though:

And the full version, in all its glory:

There. Not cute at all. I listened to her criticism and fixed the issue. Now we can inspire fear and awe in the hearts of anyone interested in  for the mooring contract  . I don't know why she hasn't gotten back to me.

On Engagement (Updated)

These are always so much more fun when the recipient replies back. Here we see some truly excellent customer service, if perhaps some poor proofreading and advisory vaguery.

Can I just say right off the bat that I would hate to be the guy that sells rings by sending links to various ring websites after "getting to know" the client? I mean, to each his own, but this poor dude is probably glued to his phone in the most regrettable way, and I am not helping.

I'm honestly impressed that this guy is willing to help what is obviously a hot mess. Points for you, David. But wait, there's more! These emails were sent in 2011, and I'm kinda kicking myself that I didn't keep up the act when I actually got a bite. But it's not healthy to live with regret, and there's no time like the present, and all aphorisms are true, so I went ahead and circled the wagons after having taking more than a few "deep breathes". After three years, I surfaced:

***UPDATE!***

He got back to me:

So he's on to me, and fair enough. But just in case I'm not joking, he's still willing to help. You might call it naivete, but I call it someone who recognizes that humans are absurd and does his best to roll with it. More points for David. This does make me feel a bit bad for wasting an honest man's time, though, so I made sure to write up a positive review for him on the company website:

Dear Tesoro Team,

I would just like to nominate David ------- for some high accolade in the category of customer service. When I was looking for a ring, he was most helpful. But more importantly, when it became suddenly clear that marriage was not about to happen, he was STILL helpful. When I was down on my bones and my soul olfacted as a campsite waste-pit in high July, David was there. When my personal safety net backed away like at a risky circus where the men make bets and the women close their eyes, and I stared down at the tigers and the midgets knowing that the scaffolding was never built to code and the ring leader may have his hands in the nay-sayers pockets, David stood there with his arms wide open, without so much as a Hamilton in the pool. Here is a man, and a good one, who will bend his eyes and fingers toward an empty heart, with all the dust and shadow that includes. My biggest sadness remains the loss of my love, the only bit made to fit the custom security screws of my heart. But my second biggest sadness is that I was unable to purchase a diamond from this kind-hearted burn-balm, this king of customer service. He may consider his contribution slight, but I did not. What can we do to recognize his meaning? I cannot buy a ring, for having it would crush me and I already feel dense enough. Please award him a commission, a promotion, a hug -- anything. Mr. ------ is Good At His Job (caps intended), though he could be a better proofreader; I am willing to let language rules slide in the face of cares. 

Please heed my suggestion, as it would relieve a poor man's sorrow and show his gratitude,

--Ben ------------

I made sure to let David know about this as well:

AND WE HAVE A WINNER! Everybody can go home now. David is my new favorite stranger. 

On Avant Garde

Hylophobia is the fear of trees/forests. I was honestly surprised to find that there was only one page of google images for its opposite, and none of them were relevant. YES I GOT CURIOUS ALL THE SUDDEN.

Jennifer still hasn't gotten back to me. I don't care how talented you are -- if you can't maintain communication with those who see the promise in your work, you will not get far. I HOPE YOU'RE READING THIS JENNIFER AND I HOPE YOU'RE USING SOMEONE ELSE'S SUPERIOR BUTT PLUG WHILST DOING SO

On Distance

I have no reply for this one (it's a no-reply address anyway), but I just had to post it because I think it's delightful. What language is this even? There is a Ben ------- who speaks this? I'm all about exclusive cocktail parties, but I'm not sure how I feel about a close-up party with these two men. Am I allowed to leave room for Jesus? The relaxed one is laughing at me, while the Thai James Bond is concerned about what is right behind me -- that can't be good. There will be 500 of something and secretly 999 of something else, so that's cool. I think I will have to assume that this is moon language and they accidentally sent an email into the past advertising an event on the 15th of Nsngrau in the year 2557. Maybe by that point people actually go to parties that are about credit cards.

On Ambiguity

I guess you could define ambiguity as a subject with no positively identifiable body. Anyway, that's what this email has. They say there's no such thing as a dumb question, but maybe a dumb question is one where a simple truthful answer makes you dumber.

On Knowing What We Want

Man wants truck
Man wants to drive
Man yells his name and he feels alive
No such luck
How can man claim
To know what he wants when he doesn't know his name

On Identity

Okay I have maybe been too harsh on some of these people who don't know the email address of their friend/business partner/son/whatever. Because some people don't even know their own email address. OR as I choose to interpret it are bit by bit shedding their ego and blurring the nominal lines that separate each of us from the collective consciousness.

I'll see y'all at the singularity.

On Storytelling

I don't know who Emily is, but she was kind enough to send me her story about quiz night. I decided to repay the favor by sending her a story about carnivals. Fun!

I am glad Emily and I both have someone to share these moments with now. Oh and in case you are in suspense YES my email did eventually send.