Real Men of Genius #7

 

[Our friend Stu Gibeau suggested this one.]

Bud Light presents…

REAL MEN OF GENIUS

{Real men of geeeeeene-yuss}

Today we toast you, Mr. Can’t Figure Out How To Quit The List Guy.

{Mister how-do-I-find-my-way-out-of-a-wet-paper-bag guyyyyyyyyyyyyy!}

If it was a barn, you could not read what’s written on it. Not on the narrow side, not on the broad side, not painted on the roof in neon green in twelve-foot-tall boldface Times Roman letters… with you flying low, upside down, in an open-cockpit biplane.

{Whoa! Where in the heck’s my parachuuuuuuuuuuuute?}

Day after day, the listserv arrives in your e-mail Inbox. Each and every day some members are celebrated by the listowner as having a birthday. Oh yes, and beneath that cheerful nativity greeting, generated automatically by “The Birthday Daemon (AND his keeper),” there appears every single time without fail: INSTRUCTIONS on just how EXACTLY to stop your subscription.

{But yoooooooooooooooooou don’t know how to do it!}

Time after time you write “TAKE ME OFF THIS THING!!!” and every single time, every single listmember receives your plaintive outcry emblazoned every morning in his or her messages. The only one who *doesn’t* receive it is “The Listserv Daemon.”

{Wwwwwwwwhat-am-I-doing-wrong-here?}

Someone else writes: “Close your eyes and click your heels three times.” Another comic says: “Poof! You’re gone!” And still a third compadre of compassion tells you the ONLY way to do this is to send your bank account information, your Social Security and driver’s license numbers, and the name of your first born child… to Nigeria.

{Maybe someone there can hellllllllllllllp yooooooooou!}

So here’s to you, Oh Excellent Reader of the Fine Print! Crack open another Bud Light and try cybertronically to shout a little louder. Because maybe someone will hear you, and maybe, as if by magic–perhaps even flying in through your open bedroom window, coming all the way from Never-Neverland–Tinkerbell may alight on your pillow… and put an end to all your suffering.

{Mister Can’t Figure Out How To Quit The List Guuuuuy!}

Bud Light beer: we don’t care where it’s made, we just dig their commercials.

( O_O )

Yours troubly,
TheTroubadourDaemon@dreamland.com

Yankee Folly of the Day:
We’re thinkin’ Washington, DC, is a little too sprinkled with pixie dust lately.