Subj: Letters1 Jokes
(Includes 14 jokes and articles, 02 1007,6,cf,wXT2a3,2)
Also see ARKANSAS file- 'A
Letter From An Arkansas Mother To Her Son'
BANKING-SUPP - 'An Old Lady's Letter To Her Bank'
BARBIE file - 'Barbie's Letter To Santa:'
BATHROOM-SUPP- 'Toilet Seat Note To Bro'
CHRISTMAS4 - 'Christmas Letter From Grandma'
CHURCH file - 'Chain Letter At Church'
COLLEGE1 file- 'Letter Home From College Coed'
......................- 'Letter Home From College Son'
COMPUTERS3 - 'Man E-Mails His Wife'
......................- 'Letter From Your Computer'
COMPUTERS4 - 'Email Fraud'
.........COMPUTRS-SUP2- 'A Wife E-Mails Her Husband'
DATING2 file - 'The Mr. Right Rejection Form Letter'
DATING3 file - 'Mother Has Dinner At Son's Home'
DIFFERENCES3 - 'Her Story And His Story'
DOCTOR3 file - 'Dear Doctor...'
DOGS3 file - 'Dog's Letters To God'
ELDERLY1 - 'Suicide Note' - Cartoon
......................- 'Suicide Note 2' - Cartoon
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'
SHIT file - 'Daughter's Poop Letter' - Photo
SOLDIER2 file- 'Soldier At Front Gets 'Dear John' Letter'
......................- 'Redneck Joins The Army'
SOLDIER-SUPP2- 'Veteran's Day School Note'
STARTREK-SPAC- 'Hyundai: A Message to Space' - Video
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'
Subj: Dear Peyton Letters (S1007)
Created by Gatorade
From: Barbara Patterson on 5/1/2016
.......Click 'HERE' to learn about Peyton Manning's letters.
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
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.
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.
Johnny Carson Reads Letters From 3rd Graders (S842d)
From: Wimp.com on 2/21/2013
On "The Tonight Show" on June
20,1986, Johnny Carson read
letters from third graders in which they finish off proverbs.
Click 'HERE' to see Johnny read these cute proverbs from
Subj: Posted to Craig's List Personals: (S664)
From: tom on 9/25/2009
This Ad Was Posted to Craig's List Personals:
To the Guy Who Tried to Mug Me
in Downtown Savannah night
before last. Date: 05-27-09, 1:43 A M EST.
I was the guy wearing the black
Burberry jacket that you
demanded that I hand over, shortly after you pulled the
knife on my girlfriend, threatening our lives and me.
You also asked for my girlfriend's purse and earrings.
I can only hope that you somehow
come across this rather
First, I'd like to apologize
for your embarrassment when
I drew my pistol after you took my Jacket. The evening
was not that cold, and I was wearing the jacket for a reason.
My girlfriend had just bought
me that Kimber Model 1911 .45A
CP pistol for my birthday, and we had picked up a shoulder
holster for it that very evening.
Obviously you agree that it is
a very intimidating weapon
when pointed at your head wasn't it?
I know it probably wasn't fun
walking back to wherever you'd
come from bare footed since I made you leave your shoes,
cell phone, and wallet with me. [That prevented you from
calling or running to your buddies to come help mug us again].
After I called your mother, or
"Momma" as you had her listed
in your cell, I explained the entire episode of what you'd
done. Then I Went and filled up my gas tank as well as four
other people's in the gas station on your credit card. The
guy with the big motor home took 150 gallons and was extremely
I gave your shoes to a homeless
guy outside Vinnie Van Go Go's,
along with all the cash in your wallet. [That made his day!]
I then threw your wallet into
the big pink "pimp mobile" that
was parked at the curb... after I broke the windshield and
side window and keyed the entire driver's side of the car.
Later, I called a bunch of phone sex numbers from your cell phone.
Ma Bell just now shut down the
line, although I only used the
phone for a little over a day now, so what's going on with that?
Earlier, I managed to get in
two threatening phone calls to the
DA's office and one to the FBI, while mentioning President Obama
as my possible target. The FBI guy seemed really intense and we
had a nice long chat (I guess while he traced your number etc.).
In a way, perhaps I should apologize
for not killing you... but
I feel this type of retribution is a far more appropriate punish-
ment for your threatened crime. I wish you well as you try to
sort through some of these rather immediate pressing issues, and
can only hope that you have the opportunity to reflect upon, and
perhaps reconsider the career path you've chosen to pursue in life.
Remember, next time you might not be so lucky.
Have a good day!
Subj: Peanuts Comic Strip (DU)
By Charles M. Schulz
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.
P.S. Don't try to find me. Your
SISTER and I are moving away
to West Virginia together! Have a great life!
|Drawing from tom on 8/21/2009|
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.
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.
Subj: Calvin and Hobbes (DU)
Created by Bill Watterson
Subj: A Letter To Mom... (S402b, S768)
From: drgolfmd on 9/22/2004 and on 3/7/2009
and From: dawineguy on 10/1/2011
(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:
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.
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
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
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
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
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,
Letter From A US Soldier In Iraq (S583)
From: hellgunner50 on 3/26/2008
|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'.
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
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
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
P.S. Should you be in contact with my father in the
future, please ask him if he'd like to renew his car
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
We appreciate your business and look forward to serving
all of your future borrowing needs.
Your Bank's San Diego
Dear San Diego District
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
As for future borrowing needs, well, don't hold your
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.
Your Insurance Agent's 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.
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.
Your Bank's Los Angeles Regional Office
Dear Los Angeles
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
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.
Your Insurance Agent's Collection Agency
Dear Insurance Agent's
You may contact my father via the enclosed 900 number.
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
Perhaps that's the best reason
not to fear death. There's
no post office there.
Subj: Letter From The Smithsonian (S34)
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!
(Juan Gonzalez 4 President)
207 Pennsylvania Avenue
Washington, DC 20078
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
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.
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
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
Yours in Science,
Department of Sociology
Lewisburg, PA 17837
(717) 524-3468; fax: 524-3760
Snopes.com states that this letter
is an Urban Legend
written by Harvey Rowe in the spring of 1994 when he
was a graduate student at MUSE in Charleston, SC.
Subj: Goofy Writes A Letter (DU)
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
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.
Subj: Letters With Hidden Meanings
From: Daemonic Funnies Page
$chool i$ 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.
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.