I like the implication of a "fun size" candy bar. If the tiny version is fun, what is the larger size? Crap? It's clearly not the preferable end of the spectrum --- otherwise, it would be the fun size --- or maybe even the "more fun" size. But it's nothing. It's the basis from which the fun size is created, so clearly it lacks that fun element. Why? Maybe a regular-size candy bar is just too much of a good thing. It becomes unpleasant at that point, or worse. If the small size is fun, is the big size the size of misery? Maybe if you opened the door at Halloween and tossed a full-size Snickers into a goblin's plastic pumpkin, a queasy look of sick disappointment would cloud the kid's face, the little of it that's visible through the mask. He might knock off for the night and go lie down after he leaves your house. Maybe his parents will have trouble getting him to get out of bed in the morning, and have to call a specialist to treat him for his depression, right there in his room. He might eventually die. Fun size. What's a crumb to these people --- ecstasy size?
--- Andy Davis
I've been an outsider my whole life. I've always delighted in confounding those who try to pin a label on me or figure me out. You can make assumptions about my taste, honesty, proclivities, hang-ups, hang-downs --- but you're not gonna get it entirely.
So imagine my surprise when people started targeting me out of the blue. Their e-mails addressed me by name. Often they were cordial. Often they were vulgar. They wanted to help me financially, sexually, morally, religiously. They wanted my opinion. They wanted me to be their sole representative in the US. They wanted me to help secure millions of dollars in unsecured funds in Africa. They wanted me to know I'd won the lottery.
So here I am Monday morning at my desk with 275 e-mails in my inbox. Fourteen --- just 14 --- of these are legit. The others, well...
Mr. Nikita Kamira from Biglobe, Inc. in Japan wants me to be his representative in the US. His unwavering trust in my capabilities is humbling. He should talk to those who sent me 14 suggestions for debt consolidation.
A notice from Mr. Johnson Craig from Madrid congratulates me on winning 100,000,000 Euros in the Spanish lottery. Just in time because I have 17 notices advising me of great investment opportunities.
The Christians bombard me daily with Christian singles that want to date me --- wait till they see the 100+ e-mails I got today to help me with my impotence and the seven I got offering to lengthen my penis, increase my stamina, and "improve my sperm integrity." If I get that worked out, find a Christian girl and knock her up, we can move our family into a new home financed through one of the five Christian mortgage lenders that e-mailed me today.
Twenty-two inquiries from various survey companies wanted to know which I'd choose: Coke or Pepsi, Taco Bell or Pizza Hut, McDonald's or Burger King... they've obviously been talking to the three folks who think I'm fat and need a diet patch.
I've got plasma TVs and satellite radios and cell phones and Swiss Watches coming my way with no strings attached. I'll enjoy them when I get back from my free Hawaiian vacation with my new Christian bride.
So I'm trustworthy, insightful, lucky, Christian, horny, broke, impotent, fat, and just plain flummoxed. Perhaps I could start blindly e-mailing strangers and sell the secrets to my popularity. Suckers.
--- Frank De Blase