Monday, June 10, 2002

Maturity, Wisdom, and Junk E-mail


by Harrison Pak

I don’t know who I am anymore. Day after day I am inundated with e-mails that are addressed to me but not for me. Strange women without last names are greeting me. Mortgage rates have dropped just because I exist. I will be approved for a credit card. That second degree in Assistant Administration is only an e-mail away. And somehow, I, too, can enjoy the comfort of having a large penis.

My replies to those faceless women that write to me have fallen upon blind eyes or fingerless hands. These women don’t want to know me. They just want my money so I can see them naked. And because of the generic nature of the message albeit they had my first name, I feel like that they are not only sending me the message but countless millions of other unsuspecting men. I hope that if you get a message from “Julie,” heed my advice and don’t succumb to the temptation that is “Hot Teen Heat.” It simply isn’t worth it.

But what is all this? What if years from now, people were somehow able to dig up the “trash” in my virtual recycle bin? What would they say? They would see the countless pictures of the Olsen twins, my god-awful attempt to recreate the sinking of the Titanic, and my overdub of the sexually ambiguous show “7th Heaven.” They would know that I receive messages to get that bigger penis, get the attention of women, receive that diploma, and make $50,000 without leaving the comforts of my own bedroom.

If someone were to make a judgment call on the basis of my “trash” e-mail, that person would surmise that I was stupid, unattractive, poor, and all the while having to go through life with a small penis.

Let me make my stand here. I am not stupid, unattractive, or poor.

But I can’t help to look for a bigger penis.

For myself, of course. With more time, maturity, wisdom and junk e-mail, I’m beginning to find out who I am by who I am not and vice versa.