Forward on. On forward.

I imagine he is someone fat who likes button-down shirts and khaki pants. He probably wears a tie that hangs above his belly button and keeps his phone in a pouch strapped to his belt. I think he has a Katorchi and drives a blue-ish green Corolla. He probably keeps his hair short, has wobbly cheeks, laughs at his own jokes and suffers from egg-breath. Unfortunately I don’t know the guy at all, so the most I can do is imagine.

I have no idea who he is. But he sends me email forwards every single day.

I can understand the sentiment behind sending email forwards: People want to stay in touch with friends but are too busy or creatively bankrupt to craft individually-tailored messages. So they just bung all the names into one send string, stick on a jpeg of a fluffy bunny, attach and a bible verse and ship it off with all their love. I can understand the sentiment.

But the thing is, I don’t know this guy.

Who is he and why is he trying to stay in touch with me?

And more importantly, why every single day? 

He obviously doesn’t know me either. The people who know me don’t send me forwards. The reasons for this are clear to anyone who, sorry to belabour the point, actually knows me.

One is that I am an old hand at this. I have seen everything already. I dance the internet, as you can see above. I am the sort of insufferable bastard who will send you a snopes link debunking ever ludicrous emergency message you send. Forward to eighteen thousand people and Microsoft will donate a pony to little orphan girls in Afghanistan? I will snub my e-nose haughtily at you and put you in your place with one line:

Send this to everyone in your country and your computer will develop the capacity of flight?

God killed John Lenon because of a silly wisecrack and then sent tsunamis to drown Indonesians?
Furthermore, I can’t stand those “inspirational stories.”
I detest the fluffy, pink, tutu-wearing, spangly-eared, so-saccharine-it’s-sickening sentimentality of those gooey forward messages about the old lady who had only four dollars left and then the stranger turned out to be an angel in the end and the sheep also did something and blah. I hate them so much every time I get one, I have to rewrite it to include some ninja decapitations and cannibalism. Just to restore the balance of sanity.

Plus: Dude sends the forwards with the subject line written badly. With the word good spelt as “gud”, for example.
Now, part of my work here in the Belly of The Beast Inc, involves copy-editing —  I am a professional corrector of spelling mistakes. Knowing this, how could anyone possibly send me deliberately miswritten words to read in my spare time? Who is this person?
I realise I am beginning to sound crabby. I am not that angry. Well, I am a little bit vastly irritated, but that is not because I bear any ill will whatsoever towards the chap sending me these things. It is only because I keep getting fucking lime-green bunny rabbits in my inbox!

And bulldogs wearing fucking pink wool socks!


When I would rather have the following:

  • The R. Kelly video in wmv format. I want to see for myself.
  • Some good music. Not shite, good music. Dizzy Gillespie. Send me Dizzy.
  • Size 1024 x768 photos of cool stuff. That is the size of my screen and I would like to use said photos as desktop wallpaper. I am bored of Beyonce and Rihanna and the Hulk and Iron Man. I want fresh wallpaper.
  • And links to stimulating and entertaining pages I can dance on the web. Like Ken Lee. Heh heh. I liked Ken Lee.

I know what you are thinking. You are thinking: “Baz, see that little button in the corner with the letters D.E.L.E.T. and E on it?”

Yes, I know. But it is not that I don’t want to delete the emails, it is that I want them to stop coming.

Should I reply one, asking the chap to cut it the hell out for crying out loud dammit before I am forced to hunt him down with my gangos from the hood? Or should I be more circumspect?

I was thinking of something like:


Please stop sending me email forwards. Some of them are way gay. Thank you in advance.

Or do you think:


What the hell did I ever do to you?  Is this revenge for something? Saggy, is that you emailing under a false name?

  Is better?

Let me think.



  1. My master once taught me: get that email address and visit a few porn sites and fill in his email address as required..Office Terrorism 101;How to fuck people up over the internet..

  2. Or,

    How much do you value your fingers? Think of that the next time you forward an email to me.

  3. The thing is, I don’t know him, so I don’t know how aggressive I can be. Dude might turn out to be one of my uncles and I be disrespecting him as if I am not a Muganda caricha?

    Joshi, the thing comes to my work address. No spam button. If there was I would never hear from Kevin O—

  4. Lol…do what joshi said up…then he’ll see what sense of humor the internet has.

    At least they send u Bible verses, some spambot send me Vanquis mail about him being able to clear my debt…I don’t know.

  5. Baz, go to the park and say ” I dance the internet” in Luganda.

    Just put a block on the offending email address and you will never see shit from it again.

  6. I mean really!

    And do what Kakaire says. Only prob is that in the park they may not know internet and think you said ‘Anneti’

    Muganda caricha indeed!

  7. fluffy dogs and tutuus n sentimental things on a baz blog… seriously? i mean seriously seriously? whatever happened to your muscle baz? and i mean every muscle????? seriously!

  8. Phantom, I also think Baz should come out. I mean he gets sent Bulldogs in tutus!!! Even I don’t get those. I may have Alicia Keys as my screen saver but that’s only because I want to sing like her. Hulk?

  9. Phantom, it was a good movie. What about. What would you rather I have? Sex And The City?

    @ Carlo, I suspect you are the one who is sending me those things.

    Meanwhile, I had been looking for a clear and precise “block this nonsense” button and there was none. I just found out that, hidden in an obscure sub-menu is the option to block. Now I am free of the tutudogs Carlo has been sending me!

  10. The Incredible Hulk people…not Hulk Hogan. If twas Hulk hogan, I’d call the police on u Baz and Phantom.

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