The Email Collection: Volume 1

When I was a lad, there was this new fancy thing called email. It was like sending a letter with a click instead of waiting in the long ass line at the post office. Everyone logged onto their AOL powered Internet, most likely because they got that free CD-ROM in the mail, and sent email after email. Since it was so new, you could have an ass-kicking email, like Life was so fucking simple and great.

Then email took off and became a staple of daily life. You couldn’t have awesome and clever email addresses anymore. You had to encrypt them with numbers. Most people opted for the wildly unoriginal tagging on of the year. In 2000, was a solid email address. In 2005, it was outdated, unoriginal, and lame. If you still have a random year attached to your email, please update it to save your own integrity. I can’t talk, I had When I was in eighth grade, I thought 311 was the coolest band ever. It wasn’t as cool when I had to share that address with people in college or in the workplace. I have to admit, I couldn’t part with that wonderful address, and still use it today.

Until working at Telescreen, I had no idea what lengths people went to make their emails original. Let me also specify that by people, I mean extremely stupid people. The ones that are smart enough to setup an email account, which requires absolutely no smarts by the way, have the most ridiculous email addresses. I’ve been taking note of the dumbest fucking emails I encounter, and so far, I have a hefty list. I tagged on to the end of these email addresses, so no, don’t try to fucking send them emails, they don’t exist at WordPress. And now, ladies and gentleman, I proudly present, The Email Collection: Volume 1. So you have webbed feet. I’m sure that was caused by redneck inbreeding. Or maybe you like to shoot shit, especially ducks. Another clue to redneck inbreeding. Really? Fucking really? What kind of dumb asshole would respond to an email like that? I’m sure you puked in the cafeteria in 2nd grade and that’s your cutesy little family nickname. Or maybe you ralph all the time due to your redneck backyard meth habit. Either way, that email address is fucking stupid. You’re a stupid redneck, we get it. (Sensing a theme?) If you really are a farmboy, why do you have email? Shouldn’t you be out driving tractors and shit? How do you even get Internet out there? Get off the fucking computer and get to bed before the rooster crows at dawn, you wanna-be. The world knows you’re a dirty trucker. We all know about your homosexual rendezvous at rest stops. We all know you shower weekly at the most. We all know you think Denny’s is a delicacy. These are all reasons every email you send is immediately placed in the recipient’s trash. If I got an email from you, I’d find out where you lived, come to your house, kick your ass, and steal your shit. Why? Because you’re a coward and a pussy, apparently. Nothing says classy like calling attention to your physical deformities. What’s your other email,

Be sure to check out my new page, Ask Winston. Ask your question and make sure you check the box that says, “Your Promise The Question Won’t Be Fucking Stupid.” Promises are forever, especially with stupidity.