letters1

>>>
Subj: Letters1 Jokes (Gz)
(Includes 9 jokes and articles)

Also see ARKANSAS file- 'A Letter From An Arkansas Mother To Her Son'
         BARBIE file - 'Barbie's Letter To Santa:'
         CHRISTMAS4   - 'Christmas Letter From Grandma'
         CHURCH file - 'Chain Letter At Church'
         COLLEGE1 file- 'Letter Home From College Coed'
......................- 'Letter Home From College Son'
         COMPUTERS3   - 'Letter From Your Computer'
         COMPUTERS4   - 'Email Fraud'
         DATING2 file - 'The Mr. Right Rejection Form Letter'
         DOCTOR3 file - 'Dear Doctor...'
         DOGS3 file   - 'Dog's Letters To God'
         DRINKING-BER2- 'Letter to Miller Company'
         ELDERLY3-SUPP- 'Letter From Grandma'
         GOD2 file    - 'Children's Letters To God'
......................- 'Letter From G-d'
......................- 'More Children's Letters To God'
......................- 'Children's Letters To God II'
         HALLOWEEN    - 'Bald Man w/Wooden Leg Goes To Party'
         IRISH2 file - 'Irishman Needs His Garden Spaded'
         JOBS3 file   - 'New Manager And Three Envelopes'
......................- 'Resumes And Cover Letters'
......................- 'Resume Bloopers'
         LAWYER1 file - 'The Lawyer Wins One......'
         LETTERS2 file- 'Letter From Camp'
         MAILMAN-ETC - 'Letter To God At Christmas'
         MARRIAGE1    - 'Accountant Leaves Wife For Secretary'
         NERD file    - 'Nerd Letters From Camp'
.........PENIS2 file - 'Penis Asks For Raise'
......................- 'Dick Caught In Toilet Paper Dispensor'
         PILOT file   - 'Two Letters About A F-16 Flyby'
         POETRY file - 'Rejected Hallmark Cards'
         POLIT-BUSH   - 'Osama Writes George Bush'
......................- 'Letter From Senior Against Bush'
         SANTA file   - 'Letter From Santa'
......................- 'If Santa Answered His Mail Honestly...'
         SANTA-SUPP   - 'Letters to Santa'
         SANTA2-DRAW - 'Dear Santa Letter'
         SCHOOL2 file - 'Excuses To Stay Home'
         SOLDIER2 file- 'Soldier At Front Gets 'Dear John' Letter'
......................- 'Redneck Joins The Army'
         TAXES file   - 'Letter To The IRS'
......................- 'Letter To The IRS II'
         TAXES-SUPP   - 'A Letter To Our Senator'
         TEAR-JERKER2 - 'The Wallet'
         TRAINS file - 'Letters About Train Service'
         TREES file   - 'Burning Your Mail'
         YOU_ARE_FROM - 'Moved To Silicon Valley'
============================================================Top

Subj:     Letter From A US Soldier In Iraq (S583)
          From: hellgunner50 on 3/26/2008
          (in Soldier-supp) Drawing from Flickr.com

This soldier's letter discusses the 4,000 soldiers who
died in the Iraq War from a personal perspective. You
read his letter on my site by clicking 'HERE'.

                            \\\//
                           -(o o)-
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Subj:     Divorce Letters (S597b)
          From: ginafm on 6/25/2008
(See 'Accountant Leaves Wife For Secretary' in MARRIAGE1)

Dear Wife: I'm writing you this letter to tell you that I'm
leaving you forever. I've been a good man to you for seven
years and I have nothing to show for it. These last two
weeks have been hell. Your boss called to tell me that you
quit your job today and that was the last straw. Last week,
you came home and didn't even notice that I had a new haircut,
had cooked your favorite meal and even wore a brand new pair
of silk boxers.

You ate in two minutes, and went straight to sleep after
watching all of your soaps. You don't tell me you love me
anymore; you don't want sex or anything that connects us as
husband and wife. Either you're cheating on me or you don't
love me anymore; whatever the case, I'm gone.

Signed,
Your EX-Husband

P.S. Don't try to find me. Your SISTER and I are moving away
to West Virginia together! Have a great life!

¤»¥«¤»§«¤»¥«¤»§«¤»¥«¤»§«¤»¥«¤»§«¤»¥«¤»§«¤»¥«¤»§«¤

Dear Ex-Husband - Nothing has made my day more than receiving
your letter. It's true that you and I have been married for
seven years, although a good man is a far cry from what you've
been. I watch my soaps so much because they drown out your
constant whining and griping. Too bad that doesn't work. I
DID notice when you got a hair cut last week, but the first
thing that came to mind was "You look just like a girl!"

Since my mother raised me not to say anything if you can't say
something nice, I didn't comment. And when you cooked my
favorite meal, you must have gotten me confused with MY SISTER,
because I stopped eating pork seven years ago. About those
new silk boxers: I turned away from you because the $49.99
price tag was still on them, and I prayed that it was a
coincidence that my sister had just borrowed fifty dollars
from me that morning. After all of this, I still loved you
and felt that we could work it out. So when I hit the lotto
for ten million dollars, I quit my job and bought us two
tickets to Jamaica. But when I got home you were gone.

Everything happens for a reason, I guess. I hope you have
the fulfilling life you always wanted. My lawyer said that
the letter you wrote ensures you won't get a dime from me.
So take care.

Signed,
Your Ex-Wife, Rich As Hell and Free!

P.S. I don't know if I ever told you this, but my sister
Carla was born Carl. I hope that's not a problem.

                            \\\//
                           -(o o)-
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Subj:     A letter to Mom... (S402b)
          From: drgolfmd on 9/22/2004
          (See 'Letter Home From College Coed' in COLLEGE1)

A mother passing by her daughter's bedroom was astonished to
see the bed was nicely made and everything was picked up.
Then she saw an envelope propped up prominently on the
center of the bed. It was addressed, "Mom".

With the worst premonition, she opened the envelope and
read the letter with trembling hands:

Dear Mom,
It is with great regret and sorrow that I'm writing you.
I had to elope with my new boyfriend because I wanted to
avoid a scene with Dad and you. I've been finding real
passion with John and he is so nice-even with all his
piercings, tattoos, beard, and his motorcycle clothes.
But it's not only the passion mom, I'm pregnant and John
said that we will be very happy. He already owns a
trailer in the woods and has a stack of firewood for the
whole winter. He wants to have many more children with
me and that's now one of my dreams too. John taught me
that marijuana doesn't really hurt anyone and we'll be
growing it for us and trading it with his friends for
all the cocaine and ecstasy we want. In the meantime,
we'll pray that science will find a cure for AIDS so
John can get better; he sure deserves it!! Don't worry
Mom, I'm 15 years old ! now and I know how to take care
of myself. Some day I'm sure we'll be back to visit so
you can get to know your grandchildren.

Your daughter, Judith

PS: Mom, none of the above is true. I'm over at the
neighbor's house. I just wanted to remind you that
there are worse things in life than my report card
that's in my desk center drawer. I love you! Call
when it is safe for me to come home.

                            \\\//
                           -(o o)-
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Subj:     Great Resignation Letter (S376-Ref)
          From: gheckman on 4/8/2004

Actual letter of resignation from an employee at ******
Computers, USA, to her boss, who apparently resigned very
soon afterwards!

Dear Mr. Baker,

As a graduate of an institution of higher education, I have
a few very basic expectations. Chief among these is that my
direct superiors have an intellect that ranges above the
common ground squirrel. After your consistent and annoying
harassment of my coworkers and me during the commission of
our duties, I can only surmise that you are one of the few
true genetic wastes of our time.

Asking me, a network administrator, to explain every little
nuance of everything I do each time you happen to stroll into
my office is not only a waste of time, but also a waste of
precious oxygen. I was hired because I know how to network
computer systems, and you were apparently hired to provide
amusement to myself and other employees, who watch you vainly
attempt to understand the concept of "cut and paste" for the
hundredth time.

You will never understand computers. Something as incredibly
simple as binary still gives you too many options. You will
also never understand why people hate you, but I am going to
try and explain it to you, even though I am sure this will
be just as effective as telling you what an IP is. Your shiny
new iMac has more personality than you ever will.

You walk around the building all day, shiftlessly looking for
fault in others. You have a sharp dressed useless look about
you that may have worked for your interview, but now that you
actually have responsibility, you pawn it off on overworked
staff, hoping their talent will cover for your glaring
ineptitude. In a world of managerial evolution, you are the
blue-green algae that everyone else eats and laughs at.
Managers like you are a sad proof of the Dilbert principle.
Since this situation is unlikely to change without you getting
a full frontal lobotomy reversal, I am forced to tender my
resignation, however I have a few parting thoughts.

1. When someone calls you in reference to employment, it
is illegal for you to give me a bad recommendation. The
most you can say to hurt me is "I prefer not to comment."
I will have friends randomly call you over the next couple
of years to keep you honest, because I know you would be
unable to do it on your own.

2. I have all the passwords to every account on the system,
and I know every password you have used for the last five
years. If you decide to get cute, I am going to publish
your "favorites list", which I conveniently saved when you
made me "back up" your useless files. I do believe that
terms like "Lolita" are not usually viewed favorably by the
administration.

3. When you borrowed the digital camera to "take pictures
of your Mother's birthday," you neglected to mention that
you were going to take pictures of yourself in the mirror
nude. Then you forgot to erase them like the techno-moron
you really are. Suffice it to say I have never seen such
odd acts with a sauce bottle, but I assure you that those
have been copied and kept in safe places pending the
authoring of a glowing letter of recommendation. (Try to
use a spell check please; I hate having to correct your
mistakes.)

Thank you for your time, and I expect the letter of
recommendation on my desk by 8:00 am tomorrow. One word
of this to anybody, and all of your little twisted
repugnant obsessions will be open to the public. Never
f*** with your systems administrator. Why? Because they
know what you do with all that free time!

Wishing you a grand and glorious day,

Cecelia

                            \\\//
                           -(o o)-
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Subj:     Dead Men Read No Mail
          From: Ossama's Laugh on 1/31/98

Dead Men Read No Mail

By Scott Hanson
(Scott Hanson is a news reporter and anchor with WESH-Channel
2 in Orlando.)

My father died on Jan 02, 1995. He left no forwarding address.
Therefore, it fell to me to collect his mail. I didn't expect
much really, since my sisters and I had been careful to notify
his bank, insurance agent and a host of other businesses that
one of their customers was no more.

You would think a death notice would cut down on the amount
of correspondence from those firms. Quite the contrary. Instead
-- for months, mind you -- my deceased father continued to
receive mail from companies that had been told of his passing
but pressed on, determined to contact him anyway.

The first to hope for a reply from beyond the grave was my
father's bank.

    Dear Mr. Hanson,
    Our records indicate payment is due for overdraft
    protection on your checking account. Efforts to
    contact you have proven unsuccessful. Therefore, we
    are automatically withdrawing your monthly $28.00
    service charge from you account. Please adjust your
    records accordingly.
    Sincerely,
    The Phoenix Branch

    Dear Phoenix Branch,
    This is to notify you once again that Mr. Hanson died
    Jan 02, 1995. It is therefore unlikely he will be
    overdrawing his account. Please close his account, and
    adjust your books accordingly.
    Sincerely,
    Scott Hansom

Later that same week, I receive this note from Dad's
insurance company. Again, this is a firm that had been
told in no uncertain terms of his death.

    Dear Mr. Hanson,
    It's time to renew your auto insurance policy! To
    continue your coverage, you must send $54.17 to this
    office immediately. Failure to do so will result in
    the cancellation of your policy, and interruption of
    your coverage.
    Sincerely,
    Your Insurance Agent

    Dear Insurance Agent,
    This is to remind you that Mr. Hanson has been dead
    since January. As such, the odds he'll be involved in
    a collision are quite minimal. Please cancel the
    policy, and adjust your books accordingly.
    Sincerely,
    Scott Hanson.

The next day, I went to my mailbox to find this:

    Dear Mr. Hanson,
    Let me introduce myself. I am a psychic reader, and it
    is very important that you contact me immediately. I
    sense that you are about to enter a time of
    unprecedented financial prosperity. Please call the
    enclosed 900 number immediately, so I can tell you how
    best to take full advantage of the opportunities that
    are coming your way.
    Sincerely,
    Your Psychic Reader

    Dear Psychic Reader,
    My father regrets he will be unable to call your 900
    number. As a psychic reader, I'm sure you already know
    my father is dead, and had been for more that three
    weeks when you mailed your letter to him. I sense my
    father would be more than happy to take you up on your
    offer of a psychic reading, should you care to meet
    with him personally.
    Sincerely,
    Scott Hanson
    P.S. Should you be in contact with my father in the
    future, please ask him if he'd like to renew his car
    insurance.

A few months of calm passed, and then these arrived:

    Dear Mr. Hanson,
    Our records indicate a balance of $112 has accrued for
    overdraft protection on your checking account. Efforts
    to contact you have proven unsuccessful. Please pay
    the minimum amount due, or contact this office to make
    other arrangements.
    We appreciate your business and look forward to serving
    all of your future borrowing needs.
    Sincerely,
    Your Bank's San Diego
    District Office

    Dear San Diego District Office,
    I am writing to you for the third time now to tell you
    my father died in January. Since then, the number of
    checks he's written has dropped dramatically. Being
    dead, he has no plans to use his overdraft protection
    or pay even the minimum amount due for a service he no
    longer needs.
    As for future borrowing needs, well, don't hold your
    breath.
    Sincerely,
    Scott Hanson

    Dear Mr. Hanson,
    Records show you owe a balance of $54.17 to your
    insurance agent. Efforts to contact you have proven
    unsuccessful. Therefore, the matter has been turned
    over to us for collection.
    Please remit the amount of $54.17 to our office or we
    will be forced to take legal action to collect the debt.
    Sincerely,
    Your Insurance Agent's Collection Agency

    Dear Collection Agency,
    I told your client. Now I'm telling you. Dad's dead.
    He doesn't need insurance. He's dead. Dead, dead,
    dead. I doubt even your lawyers can change that.
    Please adjust your books accordingly.
    Sincerely,
    Scott Hanson

A few more months, and:

   Dear Mr. Hanson,
    Our records show an unpaid balance of $224 has accrued
    for overdraft protection on your checking account. Our
    efforts to contact you have proven unsuccessful.
    Please remit the amount in full to this office, or the
    matter will be turned over to a collection agency.
    Such action will adversely affect your credit history.
    Sincerely,
    Your Bank's Los Angeles Regional Office

    Dear Los Angeles Regional Office,
    I am writing for the fourth time to the fourth person
    at the fourth address to tell your bank that my father
    passed away in January.
    Since that time, I've watched with a mixture of
    amazement and amusement as your bank continues to
    transact business with him. Now, you are even
    threatening his credit history.
    It should come as no surprise that you have received
    little response from my deceased father. It should
    also be small news that his credit history is of minor
    importance to him now.
    For the fourth and final time, please adjust your books
    accordingly.
    Sincerely,
    Scott Hanson

    Dear Mr. Hanson,
    This is your final notice of payment due to your
    insurance agent. If our firm does not receive payment
    of $54.17, we will commence legal action on the matter.
    Please contact us at once.
    Sincerely,
    Your Insurance Agent's Collection Agency

    Dear Insurance Agent's Collection Agency,
    You may contact my father via the enclosed 900 number.
    Sincerely,
    Scott Hanson

It has now been a couple of months since I've heard from these
firms. Either the people writing these letters finally believe
my father is dead, or they themselves have died and are now
receiving similar correspondence.

Actually, there has been a lesson in these letters. Any one
of them would be cause for great worry, if sent to a living
person. The dead are immune from corporate bullying. There's
nothing like dying to put business correspondence in its
proper perspective.

Perhaps that's the best reason not to fear death. There's
no post office there.

                            \\\//
                           -(o o)-
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Subj:     All the Good Things - A Letter (S37)
..........From: TNKRTEACH on 97-10-12

He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's
School in Morris, Minn. All 34 of my students were dear to
me, but Mark Eklund was one in a million. Very neat in
appearance, but had that happy-to-be-alive attitude that
made even his occasional mischieviousness delightful.

Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and
again that talking without permission was not acceptable.
What impressed me so much, though, was his sincere
response every time I had to correct him for misbehaving -
"Thank you for correcting me, Sister!" I didn't know what to
make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to
hearing it many times a day.

One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark
talked once too often, and then I made a novice-teacher's
mistake. I looked at him and said, "If you say one more
word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!"

It wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, "Mark is
talking again." I hadn't asked any of the students to help
me watch Mark, but since I had stated the punishment in
front of the class, I had to act on it.

I remember the scene as if it had occurred this morning. I
walked to my desk, very deliberately opened my drawer and
took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, I
proceeded to Mark's desk, tore off two pieces of tape and
made a big X with them over his mouth. I then returned to
the front of the room. As I glanced at Mark to see how he
was doing he winked at me. That did it! I started laughing.
The class cheered as I walked back to Mark's desk,
removed the tape and shrugged my shoulders. His first
words were, "Thank you for correcting me, Sister."

At the end of the year I was asked to teach junior-high math.
The years flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my
classroom again. He was more handsome than ever and
just as polite. Since he had to listen carefully to my
instructions in the "new math," he did not talk as much in
ninth grade as he had in the third.

One Friday, things just didn't feel right. We had worked
hard on a new concept all week, and I sensed that the
students were frowning, frustrated with themselves - and
edgy with one another. I had to stop this crankiness
before it got out of hand. So I asked them to list the names
of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper,
leaving a space between each name. Then I told them to
think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their
classmates and write it down.

It took the remainder of the class period to finish the
assignment, and as the students left the room, each one
handed me the papers. Charlie smiled. Marked said,
"Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend."

That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a
separate sheet of paper, and I listed what everyone else had
said about that individual. On Monday I gave each student
his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling.
"Really?" I heard whispered. "I never knew that meant
anything to anyone!" "I didn't know others liked me so
much!"

No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. I never
knew if they discussed them after class or with their
parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had
accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with
themselves and one another again.

That group of students moved on. Several years later, after I
returned from vacation, my parents met me at the airport.
As we were driving home, Mother asked me the usual
questions about the trip - the weather, my experiences in
general. There was a light lull in the conversation. Mother
gave Dad a side-ways glance and simply says, "Dad?" My
father cleared his throat as he usually did before something
important. "The Eklunds called last night," he began.
"Really?" I said. "I haven't heard from them in years. I
wonder how Mark is."

Dad responded quietly. "Mark was killed in Vietnam," he
said. "The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it
if you could attend." To this day I can still point to the exact
spot on I-494 where Dad told me about Mark.

I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before.
Mark looked so handsome, so mature. All I could think at
that moment was, Mark, I would give all the masking tape in
the world if only you would talk to me.

The church was packed with Mark's friends. Chuck's sister
sang "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." Why did it have to
rain on the day of the funeral? It was difficult enough at the
graveside. The pastor said the usual prayers, and the bugler
played taps. One by one those who loved Mark took a last
walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy water.

I was the last one to bless the coffin. As I stood there, one
of the soldiers who had acted as pallbearer came up to me.
"Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. I nodded as I
continued to stare at the coffin. "Mark talked about you a
lot," he said.

After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed
to Chucks farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father
were there, obviously waiting for me. "We want to show you
something," his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket.
"They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought
you might recognize it."

Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of
notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and
refolded many times. I knew without looking that the papers
were the ones on which I had listed all the good things each
of Mark's classmates had said about him. "Thank you so
much for doing that" Mark's mother said. "As you can see,
Mark treasured it."

Mark's classmates started to gather around us. Charlie
smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list.
It's in the top drawer of my desk at home." Chuck's wife
said, "Chuck asked me to put this in our wedding album."
"I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary." Then
Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took
out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the
group. "I carry this with me at all times," Vicki said
without batting an eyelash. "I think we all saved our lists."

That's when I finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark
and for all his friends who would never see him again.

THE END
written by: Sister Helen P. Mrosia

The purpose of this letter, is to encourage everyone to
compliment the people you love and care about. We often
tend to forget the importance of showing our affections and
love. Sometimes the smallest of things, could mean the
most to another. I am asking you, to please send this
letter around and spread the message and encouragement,
to express your love and caring by complimenting and being
open with communication. The density of people in society,
is so thick, that we forget that life will end one day. And
we don't know when that one day will be. So please, I beg
of you, to tell the people you love and care for, that they
are special and important.

Tell them, before it is too late.

                            \\\//
                           -(o o)-
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Subj:     The Official Un-Chain Letter
          From: Steve Willoughby, Oracle Humour List
          Copyright 1997 Robert E. Riddle

DO NOT FORWARD THIS ! DON'T EVEN THINK OF IT !

Forwarding this will cause immense amounts of bad luck. Do
not forwardthis to your friends, or enemies. If you send
this to one of your friends you will end up blowing lint
balls out of your nose. If you send it to two or three of
your friends, they will be affected by the above and any
and all of your pets will lose effective bladder control.

If you send it to four to eight of your friends, they will
be affected by the above and you will be the sole cause of
mass starvation in a small Mediterranean country.

If you send this to nine to fifteen of your friends, they
will be affected by all of the above and you will be drafted
to serve in a Peacekeeping Force in the Mediterranean area.

If you send this to sixteen to twenty-five of your friends,
they will be affected by all of the above and you will be
captured, tortured and brainwashed by a small radical band
of anarchists who have control of a twenty megaton hydrogen
bomb with surface to surface capabilities.

If you send this to more than twenty five of your friends,
they will be affected by all of the above and you personally
will trigger the hydogen device and we know where that leads
don't we?

HOWEVER,
If you only THINK of sending it to one of your friends. your
buggers will be normal. If you only THINK of sending it to
two or three of your friends, they will be affected by the
above, and your pets will only piss you off.

If you only THINK of sending it to four to eight of your
friends, they will be affected by all of the above and the
olive harvest will be a bumper crop this year.

If you only THINK of sending it to nine to fifteen of your
friends, they will be affected by all of the above (cheap
martinis) and you will qualify for a brainless cush job at
twice the salary.

If you only THINK of sending it to sixteen to twenty-five
of your friends, they will be affected by all of the above
and you will become involved in a pretentious race of keeping
up with your friend's purchases of materialistic items.

If you only THINK of sending it to more than twenty-five of
your friends, they will affected by all of the above, and
your friends will personally hold you responsible for their
sleazy materialistic attitudes and jointly hire a hit man to
pull the trigger. SO REALLY, DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT
FORWARDING THIS !

                            \\\//
                           -(o o)-
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Subj:     Letter From The Smithsonian (S34)
          From Zac Schenetzke

This is a letter that Sunni Mercer gave me to read. There's
this guy who digs up stuff in his back yard and mails it to
the Smithsonian Institution as if it were real fossils and
things. This is an actual letter that the Institution mailed
back to him. It's hilarious!

Jeremy Hoffpauir
(Juan Gonzalez 4 President)

Paleoanthropology Division
Smithsonian Institution
207 Pennsylvania Avenue
Washington, DC 20078

Dear Sir:
Thank you for your latest submission to the Institute, labeled
"211-D, layer seven, next to the clothesline post. Hominid
skull." We have given this specimen a careful and detailed
examination, and regret to inform you that we disagree with
your theory that it represents "conclusive proof of the
presence of Early Man in Charleston County two million years
ago." Rather, it appears that what you have found is the
head of a Barbie doll, of the variety one of our staff, who
has small children, believes to be the "Malibu Barbie". It
is evident that you have given a great deal of thought to
the analysis of this specimen, and you may be quite certain
that those of us who are familiar with your prior work in
the field were loathe to come to contradiction with your
findings.

However, we do feel that there are a number of physical
attributes of the specimen which might have tipped you off
to its modern origin:

1. The material is molded plastic. Ancient hominid
    remains are typically fossilized bone.
2. The cranial capacity of the specimen is approximately
    9 cubic centimeters, well below the threshold of even
    the earliest identified proto-hominids.
3. The dentition pattern evident on the "skull" is more
    consistent with the common domesticated dog than it is
    with the "ravenous man-eating Pliocene clams" you speculate
    roamed the wetlands during that time. This latter finding
    is certainly one of the most intriguing hypotheses you have
    submitted in your history with this institution, but the
    evidence seems to weigh rather heavily against it. Without
    going into too much detail, let us say that:

A. The specimen looks like the head of a Barbie doll
that a dog has chewed on.
B. Clams don't have teeth.

It is with feelings tinged with melancholy that we must deny
your request to have the specimen carbon dated. This is
partially due to the heavy load our lab must bear in its
normal operation, and partly due to carbon dating's notorious
inaccuracy in fossils of recent geologic record. To the best
of our knowledge, no Barbie dolls were produced prior to 1956
AD, and carbon dating is likely to produce wildly inaccurate
results.

Sadly, we must also deny your request that we approach the
National Science Foundation's Phylogeny Department with the
concept of assigning your specimen the scientific name
"Australopithecus spiff-arino." Speaking personally, I, for
one, fought tenaciously for the acceptance of your proposed
taxonomy, but was ultimately voted down because the species
name you selected was hyphenated, and didn't really sound
like it might be Latin.

However, we gladly accept your generous donation of this
fascinating specimen to the museum. While it is undoubtedly
not a hominid fossil, it is, nonetheless, yet another
riveting example of the great body of work you seem to
accumulate here so effortlessly. You should know that our
Director has reserved a special shelf in his own office for
the display of the specimens you have previously submitted
to the Institution, and the entire staff speculates daily
on what you will happen upon next in your digs at the site
you have discovered in your back yard.

We eagerly anticipate your trip to our nation's capital that
you proposed in your last letter, and several of us are
pressing the Director to pay for it. We are particularly
interested in hearing you expand on your theories surrounding
the "trans-positating fillifitation of ferrous ions in a
structural matrix" that makes the excellent Tyrannosaurus
rex femur that you recently discovered take on the deceptive
appearance of a rusty 9 mm Sears Craftsman automotive crescent
wrench.

Yours in Science,
Harvey Rowe
Curator, Antiquities
Carl Milofsky
Department of Sociology
and Anthropology
Bucknell University
Lewisburg, PA 17837
(717) 524-3468; fax: 524-3760

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Subj:     Sex Chain Letter (S14)
          From: Bawdy.Net Collage #14

With Sex, All Things are Possible
This paper has been sent to you for good luck. The original
has been worn out from having passed through the hands of so
many people. It had travelled around the world 70 times
[Dear Reader: please help keep this count current. If this
letter falls into your hands after just completing one more
circuit of the world, please add one to the count.] The
luck has now been sent to you. You will experience great
sex within four days of receiving this letter, provided you
send it on. Since the copy must tour the world, you must
make ten copies and send them to others. This is no joke.
Send no money. Send copies to people who need to get laid
within 96 hours. After he passed this letter on, a Montana
Spinach Control Officer got his penis stuck in a cow-milking
machine and had the longest series of orgasms of his life.
John Elliot tried to pick up a prostitute, but, because he
broke the chain, was picked up by the police instead. When
they searched his home, they found magazines of little boys
which they showed to his neighbors. In a suburb of Paris,
Don Loray's trousers were ripped by an unsatisfied erection,
51 days after failing to circulate the letter. However,
before this happened, a condom machine gave him three
condoms for the price of one. (was this the consolation
prize?)

Do note the following: Hebert Pudstrom received the chain in
1953. He asked his secretary to make ten copies and send
them out. A few days later he encountered her in a red-light
district making more than he had every paid her at work.
General George Patton, who sent the letter on, saw what he
thought was a quarter in the street. When he bent down to
pick it up, a beautiful woman in a miniskirt walked by, and
he got a great view. Heywood Daddit, an unemployed chicken
choker, received the letter and forgot that it had to leave
his hands within 96 hours. His wife then went bowling with
his best friend and never returned. Later, after finding the
letter again, he mailed ten copies. A few days later he got
a wife and discovered that his old wife, who he thought was
wonderful, had made love to him like a dead salmon for all
these years! Alan Fairchild received the letter and, not
believing, threw the letter away. Nine days later he spilled
hot coffee in his crotch.

In 1987 the letter received by a young woman in Texas was
faded and barely readable, so she did not realize that this
paragraph applied to her. She promised herself she would
retype the letter and send it on, but she put it aside to
do later. She was plagued with problems including herpes
and other venereal diseases she contracted in her futile
attempts to find Mr. Right in a singles bar. The letter
did not leave her hands in 96 hours. She finally typed
the letter and found a man with a 10-inch penis.

Beware, however of the fate of the E-mail user at Trent
University, Peterborough ON, that sent this letter to
himself over five thousand times in one afternoon. Before
leaving the computer lab a strange woman came up behind him,
bit his ear and put her hand down his pants. The ensuing
surprise caused him to stumble forward and cry out. As he
attempted to arrest his fall by grabbing a nearby PC, a gob
of spittle that had been flung from his mouth (as he cried
out) landed deep into the inner recesses of the computer,
all three (student, strange woman and computer) then
experienced simultaneous Cyber-Orgasms of exponential
intensity before exploding in a puff of smoking data.

You must distribute at least ten copies within 96 hours of
receiving this letter. Those who do will find their love
lives more fulfilling. Those who do not will be doomed to
one-night stands with mechanical devices.

                            \\\//
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Subj:     Letters With Hidden Meanings
          From: Daemonic Funnies Page

Dear Dad,
      $chool i$ really great. I am making lot$ of friend$
and $tudying very hard. With all my $tuff, I $imply can't
think of anything I need, $o if you would like, you can
ju$t $end me a card, a$ I would love to hear from you.
      Love,
      Your $on.

------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Son,

I kNOw that astroNOmy, ecoNOmics, and oceaNOgraphy are
eNOugh to keep even an hoNOr student busy. Do NOt forget
that the pursuit of kNOwledge is a NOble task, and you
can never study eNOugh.
Love,
Dad

\\\//
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Smiley writes letters from
Smiley_Central

.