IJMC - Forward This To Everyone You Know

Here in America we have a big game called the SuperBowl. Lots of big men
throw around a bunch of air wrapped in pigskin. Me, I go to sleep. I can
catch all the advertisements online tomorrow just as I can get the
scores. So now, I sleep. There is something to be said for what I am
doing, but I will summarize it with, "yawn".                       -dave

P.S. Ok, the Etrade tribute to Pets.com was cool. I am still gonna sleep.




Dear everyone.

     I am a very sick little boy. My mother is typing this for me, because
I can't. She is crying. Don't cry, Mommy! Mommy is always sad, but she
says it's not my fault. I asked her if it was God's fault,but she didn't
answer, and only started crying harder, so I don't ask her that anymore.
The reason she is so sad is that I'm so sick. I was born without a body.
It doesn't hurt, except when I go to sleep. The doctors gave me an
artificial body. My body is a burlap bag filled with leaves.The doctors
said that was the best they could do on account of us having no money or
insurance. I would like to have a body transplant, but we need more
money.Mommy doesn't work because she said employers don't hire crying
people. I said, 'Don't cry, Mommy,' and she hugged my burlap body. Mommy
always gives me hugs, even though she's allergic to burlap, and it chafes
her real bad. I hope you will help me. You can help me if you forward this
e-mail. Dr. Johansen said if you forward this e-mail then Bill Gates will
team up with AOL and do a survey with NASA. Then the astronauts will
collect prayers from school children all over America and take them up to
space so that the angels can hear them better. Then they will go to the
Pope, and he will take up a collection in church and send the money to the
doctors. The doctors could help me better then. Maybe one day I will be
able to play baseball. Or maybe just use my lungs and heart, when the
doctors make them. The doctors said that every time you forward this
letter, the astronauts can take another prayer to the angels. Please help
me. Mommy is so sad, and I want a body. I don't want my leaves to rot
before I turn 10.

     If you don't forward this e-mail, that's OK. Mommy says you're a mean
heartless shithead who doesn't care about a poor little boy with only a
head. She says that if you don't stew in the raw pit of your own
guilt-ridden stomach, she hopes you die a long slow horrible death so you
can burn forever in hell. What kind of goddamned person are you that you
can't take five fucking minutes to forward this to all your friends so
that they can feel guilt and shame for the rest of their day, and then
maybe help a poor, bodiless nine-year-old boy?

     Please help me. This really sucks. I try to be happy but it's hard. I
wish I had a puppy. I wish I could hold a puppy.

Thank You,
Billy 'Smiles' Evans,
The boy with just a head. And a burlap sack for a body."
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