Ah, the chain letter, those things that nobody sees anymore in print form but that have become an irritating hassle with the advent of social networks. It seems some days I can’t log on without finding something in my feed about clicking the “like button” if I think starving children are bad or to share a link if I’m “weird and don’t care if anybody knows.”
Listen, linkers, if I am weird and don’t care if anybody knows, I’m going to be doing weird stuff, and my opinion on starving children, breast cancer and ‘80s hair metal are givens. I don’t need to reaffirm that these are bad things by clicking the like button.
I know starving children is bad thing and I dislike the idea that the entire Internet might just exist to explain humanity to itself, over and over again.
In the modern era, chain letters get passed around more easily if only because you no longer have to copy the letter manually and then mail it off at your own expense to six or seven people.
This also means that the electronic social network type of viral picture or chain letter doesn’t need to come with threats such as “if you don’t re-send this, you will have bad luck!”
In the spirit of fun, I think I’ll demonstrate how an old fashioned mailbox chain letter looked, fresh out of your mailbox (these still surface in emails occasionally):
Dear Sir and/or Madam,
This is a very important letter of utmost importance — do not crumple or throw away! Ms. Jane Doe Kurrkopolis of Kirksville, Iowa threw away this letter and ended up being chased by mad IRS agents. Mr. Robert Skullcrusher of Texas mashed his thumb after throwing away this letter. And Mrs. Natty Leatherstocking of Cooper, N.Y. ended up on Slazalk IV without a translator after she threw away this letter.
Instead, kind sir and/or madam, consider Mr. Defilade, who, after copying this letter FIFTEEN times and sending it to FIFTEEN friends, ended up with three hundred signed copies of a rare signed copy of To Kill a Mockingbird (however, the sudden appearance of said copies drove down their market value considerably).
And consider Ms. Gale Auspicious who won the Kentucky Derby after she mailed TWENTY copies to her friends and/or relatives.
And then there was Mr. Huston Shilling, who, after mailing TWO HUNDRED copies to his friends, was able to go to a college where the administration gave money to the school’s library services instead of the Athletics Department.
If you too wish to be as lucky as Defilade, Auspicious and Shilling, then mail THREE HUNDRED copies to people in the phone book. If you do, you shall be rewarded!
Sincerely, a friend and/or relative possibly Aunt Gertrude who always falls for these things since she was always far too trusting, possibly with an attached note that says, “Please mail it out soon so you don’t get lost in space and time!”
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Thank goodness these things are a thing of the past. But the new forms of them are the same as the old ones. They are silly insubstantial things. Only now, they are so easy to send along that everybody does it without thinking.
I suppose what I want to say here is that you should think what sharing “Re-blog this if you admit you are weird and don’t care” says about you to everybody who is going to see. Somehow I don’t think it will say to them that “You are weird.”
If you agree, re-blog this seven hundred, twenty-two million billion trillion times and send a copy to everybody you know via fax, e-mail and semaphore or I shall curse you with incompetent politicians in the voting booth this year.
