July 15, 2003 - 3:27 p.m.
I found a profile the other day, that caught my attention, as I was browsing various means of meeting other fine young men online. The pics were beautifully airbrushed, and the depth of the writing style with which he described himself and what he desired certainly were out of the ordinary. He sent anyone viewing his profile off with this message: Make Email Good.
From this last departing anecdote that deftly walks the edge of metaphore and is considered by many people so simple on purpose, denoting a depth that is Zen in many ways, we get little to go on. Which I guess means it was useless to show it to that many peole at a party, and show them the kids pic too... they might not have been so generous if they hadn't been drunk, nor would it have been that many words with more then one sylables, if they hadn't been sparkling and reading Websters Dictionary and Thesaurus.
Anyway, here is what I sent him, as the Good email.:
dear 22yroldfullofhimself@agentlemensmeetingsite.wet
Recently, at the University of EmaiL'achavelleaon, Concord MA, Dr. Carrpull Tunnell stated:" Making the Good email is easy. But only if you are a generally good communicator, with that whole talking thing people used to do. Oh oh oh, and that telephone thing, yeesh, how last century, right? Getting to the point in
an email is criticil. So know your recipient, and failing that, try and sell them something. What? It worked for my cousin's brother's second ex-drinking buddy's Niece, she got all those cool car stereo's, when she started dating Gino, the slightly greasy guy, who always tells me I must have lost weight. So Obser-....", after which point the Dr rambled on, darting between subjects, never reaching the point, or even anything interesting.
We took the one thing that didn't sound stupid from what the Dr had told us, and tried to examine how we communicated, since we all talked alot, and got what we wanted, we had to be good at it, right?
I asked my best friend why he thought I was such a good conversationlist.
He Said: "You? Conversation? Dialogue? Dude, you would need to learn how to listen, and-...." my mind drifted as he started getting incoherent, although it might have happened in the reverse order, but who cares.
My colleagues had much better results, each going to a therapist. I don't know how that was supposed to help, and after all the crying and hugging after they got out, I figured it was a group of people trying to watch Kevin Kostner's "THE
POSTMAN".
So I rubbed the bottle I had found on the ground at the Black and Blue Ball in Montreal a couple years back. Carefull not to come in contact with the vial substances contained within, I let it spill out, slowly forming, as it did, into wierd astrological shapes, until I coughed, to get its attention.
"What is it you wish from me? You have already received your two free readings from Miss Chleo, and the complimentery John Edwards Home basement game, called Exhumations! Know this, that as the Meanie in the bottle, I don't have to give you shit."
And suddenely, as if by magic(or fumes), I knew that it was just as he said. I was humbled by the knowledge. But I started strongly anyway: "I know that, bitch-boy. Luckily, I don't want your Shit, I want the Goodest Email of all Times."
"You mean from all the news papers with the word Times in it title?" he pussed at me.
"No, You know exactly what I am infering, you ARE after all a Meanie, you know what I mean by magic and that coloring book questionair I filled out last time." I was cool as a new plumber.
"Here it is, though it is the best email, not only of all time, but of all Dimensions. Use it wisely, I think the invisibly-red nameless race of people from the next dimension, known to everyone as the Reddies, need it back for
their 'Keep the Bullshit Going' series appearing on their best network, WLUB-EDUP, on their new Thank Flams it's Gunther Jifini !"
I rolled it up inside my pocket, right next to the cup of soup I had been letting cool off, and hurried to my computer. And I have been traveling ever since.
I'll never know why I leave the bottle downstairs, I mean, two flight's of stairs,, I get so winded.
Ok, I'm scanning it now....
Crap, the soup got on part of the email. Who could have foreseen such a turn of event?
I guess I'll leave the link to website containing the Ultimate Secret's Of the Universe till next time. I think it's something like "ww*smudge*.unltima*piece of vegetable*esecretsof*hair, not mine*heuniversegonew"splotch of black that looks like a printed i*ldonsprin*is this a g, or a t...?*break.org*and although there isn't any soup spilled here, I am going to pretend there is, and
say it looks like a "y"*
There you go, it's Good, and it took alot of effort, being a good communicator. Unless you haven't been listening this whole time. Which sucks, cuz neither was I, so I can't resay it all....
The Goodest of The Good
6:58 p.m. - November 21, 2003
11:55 p.m. - November 15, 2003
8:23 p.m. - November 15, 2003
3:38 a.m. - November 10, 2003
7:46 a.m. - October 27, 2003
