Real Men/Women of Genius #63

[First of all, I’d just like to say “thanks”–reelly and troubly–to all the many folks who’ve–so far–responded so positively to all this negativity…
( O_O )
…and who have even sent me e-mails which I hope they’ll forgive me for not
always answering…
…and to my good buddy Bill Thom for even offering to upchuck allah dys whack onto his ver kewl website inna furs playce. Other than that, in the second place? I need to apologize for being so late today–which tardiness was because of my back porch not being rebuilt, which was caused by “inspectors,” which was because of THEIR having a bad day, all of which was caused (again) in the first place by a TORNADO (some months ago) that, furshur, wuz jus’ havin’ itseff a grand ol’ time!]

Bud Light presents…

REAL MEN OF GENIUS

{Re-al men of geeeeeene-yuss}

Today we salute you, Mr. Automatic Notifier to the Listserv That “I’ll Be Gone Until Hell Freezes Over” Guy.

{Mis-ter aaau-toe-maaa-ti-cal-ly innn-to our In-box no-ti-fy-er guyyyyyy!}

Please. To each and every single individual e-mail? Your automatically pre-programmed mega-corporate cubicle computer spits out four-thousand-messages-per-minute just to say that you’re “not there”?

{“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease leave a messs-sage!”}

And you’ll return *when*? And what *exactly* are you doing away from your desk until that Tuesday, the day after the holiday, in the year 2525?

{“I’m go-iiiiiing to beeeeee trav-vel-ling to a gal-ax-y far far a-wayyyyy!”}

Does the boss know you’re gone? Or for that matter, does “Jerry in Accounting” know? Now that you have painstakingly explained throughout your completely automatic message that, should we have any type of sales emergency, or if the Megawhompus Hoochee-Callit Thingamabob that you sold us doesn’t work, or if our own firm is growing impatient waiting for delivery, or if we’ve been waiting for your call-back since 1896, or if we have any other questions, we should direct them to Jerry in Accounting until, in fact, you get back?

{Buttttttt WHOA! Weeeeeeeeeeeee could be dead by thennnn!}

What guarantee do we even have that Jerry in Accounting will still be employed by “The World’s Exclusive Manufacturers of The Megawhompus Hoochee-Callit Thingamabob”?

{“They commmmmmmmmmmmmme in three siiiiiii-zes!!!”}

And did you need to program your message to respond like this to all your personal e-mails, too? Not to mention each and every single little e-address of the already five-to-twenty-thousand automatically-disseminated-to subscribers of this very listserv that you have somehow managed to join–and read and blog to–all on company time?

{Ev-‘ry-one’s block-iiiiiiiiing you annnn-y-wayyyyyyyyyy!!}

So crack open an ice-cold Bud Light over the Labor Day Holiday, O Awesome Pre-Programmer of the Internet’s Equivalent to the Answering Machine, because, really, when you do finally return to your desk on Tuesday and turn on your computer? You will find every single one of four hundred thousand automatic replies left in *your* Inbox which were themselves automatically sent out to respond to your own automatic replies.

{Mis-ter Au-to-ma-tic No-ti-fi-errrr to the List-serrrrv “I’ll Be Gone Un-til Hell Freeeeee-zes O-ver” Guy!}

Bud Light beer: we don’t care where they brew it; we just dig their commercials.

( O_O )

Yours troubly,
The Troubadour

Yankee Folly of the Day:
The only thing that could possibly be worse would be 400,000 “requested receipts” sent back by that many people who did indeed receive all those automatic e-mails to begin with.