I cannot believe, in a world as enlightened as ours, that these things still manage to exist. They are the equivalent of cockroaches on paper.
Who really believes in this stuff, anyway?
If the secret to true happiness were to be found in these documents, I’d quit my job and invest all my money in parchment and quill pens.
I would pen them all day long and, when my hands finally got tired, I would do it with my toes.
I imagine the same people responsible for these letters are the very people who sit behind closed curtains in the dark all day.
They dutifully log television commercials and then run out to buy Axe Body Spray and Colgate by the truckload. The mere fact they now possess these items will surely bring incalculable amounts of joy to their lives!
(Sure, go ahead and laugh. Now come take a look at the eight hundred boxes of printing paper I keep in my garage. It can happen to the best of us.)
I got another chain letter yesterday afternoon.
A coworker tracked me down and stuffed into my hands while I tried to masquerade as a potted plant behind the water cooler.
“What is this?” I screamed after him, as I spit a leaf out of my mouth.
“Instructions for Life” it said:
#1 - Trust in God but lock your car.
What kind of oxymoron is that? I say let your paint job fade to primer gray and fill your car with enough gardening tools, drive-through refuse and assorted trash so that you will impede theft but not vision. No one is going to want a car like that. God has enough things to worry about.
I trust this way I can leave my vehicle unlocked and not have him fretting over my Ranger.
#2 - Share your knowledge — it’s the way to achieve immortality.
Obviously the wise sage that penned this down never had children. Here is what would happen at my home if I attempt to share my knowledge.
“Baby, a penny saved is a penny earned.”
“Daaaaddddy. What the hell do you think I can buy with a penny? You are sooooo dumb!”
Immortality. Ha ha ha.
#3 - Once a year go some place you have never been before.
The only hope I have in ever achieving this grand life instruction is to begin shopping further and further away from my home until I am eventually at a Mini-Mart in Alaska wrestling my Twinkie from the angry mouth of a Polar Bear.
#4 - Believe in love at first sight.
This one is right. I should be married to Demi Moore.
#5 - Don’t trust a man/woman who does not close their eyes when you kiss them.
Okay, does this not mean you are opening your eyes to see if they are opening theirs?
I think that’s cheating.
#6 - Mind your own business
Ha ha ha ha! Hee hee hee! That was fucking awesome! I’m not sure if I can even go on now.
My ribs ache.
#7 - Spend some time alone.
Well, this one has some merit. I’m moving into my closet.
The letter went on to advise me that, in direct proportion to the number of people I intended to forever alienate from my life by passing these instructions on to them, things would improve for me on many dramatic levels!
I’m sending mine to Ed McMahon.
Just because I might already be a winner.
I think I shall make my own list of instructions for a happy life.
#1 - Move to Borneo.
Change your name, disconnect your phone and alter your perfume so they can’t track you by smell. If you don’t do this, your children will find you and make you sew that damn button on.
