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Real Men/Women of Genius #42

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  • The Troubadour
    [Despite the recent reaming, comedy and poignancy absolutely prohibit restraint in this case.] Bud Light presents... REAL MEN OF GENIUS {Real men of
    Message 1 of 1 , Feb 19, 2010
      [Despite the recent reaming, comedy and poignancy absolutely prohibit
      restraint in this case.]

      Bud Light presents...


      {Real men of geeeeeene-yuss}

      Today we salute you, Mr. E-mailer To The Wrong Guy To Take You Off The


      You're a very clever boy, aren't you? You have completely figured
      out---without anyone ever instructing you---that you can prevent certain
      unwanted listserv material from ever entering your Inbox, simply by
      e-mailing the "offending parties" themselves and telling them: "Take me off
      your list."

      {"Whoa! Stop! I dooooooooooan wannn-na git-chur mes-sa-ges an-y more!'}

      This is like telephoning Ralph Schwierigkeiten on page 296 in the white
      pages and telling *him* to stop being printed in *your* phone book.

      {"Yourrrrrrrrrrrrr name is offff-fen-sive to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"}

      It's ingenious, really, this thinking of yours. You're probably the kind of
      hyper-intelligence-man that, instead of bitching to your local postmaster,
      you actually take the time to send a certified letter (return receipt
      requested) to each and every single advertiser you receive every day in your
      junk mail, absolutely demanding that they "cease and desist!"

      {"It jussssst keeeeeeeeeps pi-ling and pi-ling and pi-ling uuuuuuuuuup!"}

      Of course, bitching to the post office won't help you either. You are still
      going to receive your weekly "Shopper" and the twenty trillion annual
      envelopes from Publishers Clearinghouse absolutely guaranteeing that you MAY
      HAVE ALREADY WON about a billion bucks. The only proven way to avoid
      getting junk mail is to live in a submarine.

      {"Maaaaaay-beee they send junk mail in a bottttttttttttt-tle!"}

      But even in a submarine, of course, you can still get e-mail---when, as we
      presume---your boat floats close enough to the surface to receive all the
      gamma, beta, and UV rays that all the Coppertone junk mail always warns you

      {"I thiiiiiiiink theeeeeeese rays are called band-widths."}

      So crack open a nice ice-cold can of Bud Light from your fridge, O Hoper To
      Stop The Juggernaut By Reaming Just One Messenger's Anus, because you, sir,
      are surely the bravest and loftiest scholar of contemporary history so far
      encountered by this one particular "offending party" to your seriously
      abused sense of dignity and decorum, and of just what sort of junk e-mail is
      actually permissible in your precious inner sanctum to begin with.

      {Mis-ter E-mail-er To-The-Wrong-Guy To Take-You-Off-The-List-serv!}

      Bud Light beer: we don't care where it's made; we just dig their

      ( O_O )

      Yours troubly,

      Rich Limacher

      Yankee Folly of the Day:
      The very best way to stop the impending flood from sinking your city, of
      course, is to just stick your finger up your dike.
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