David Okey Cummings [log in to unmask]
 
Subject SPAMMING and the IAF.NET devil
 
        As one who has been unjustly accused of spamming, it hurts damnit,
you guys may not realize the power you have with your listservices and who
is allowed to use them.
 
        You say, "Look, there's a mountain of gold over there. Go dig and
become rich."
 
        The naive user, me, runs out and buys shovels and picks and donkeys
and firearms and grub.
 
        Then you guys say I'm not allowed to use the shovel, not allowed to
dig a hole, not allowed to pull the harness of my donkey, not allowed to
remove but a pittance of gold from the mountain at a time and not allowed
to do a million other things that I'm not allowed to know.
 
        I ask why I'm not allowed to do these things.
 
        You guys say I'm not allowed to use the shovel because it will be
scratched, I'm not allowed to dig because you don't like the smell of
sweat, I'm not allowed to pull the harness of my donkey because you don't
want donkey hair all over the place, I can't remove but a small amount of
gold because it hurts your eyes when you look at it and you won't tell me
the million other things because you don't know them and you want the
opportunity to club my cyber head when you think of them.
 
        The Other topic, iaf.net. Derogatory negatives to many of you.
 
        Between all of you, you must have the accumulated entrepreneur I.Q.
of my flawless shovel.
 
        We need a phone book for the internet. get it together and give us
one or some one else will solve the million other things and be the next
Bill Gates.
 
All this heavy thought has loosened what little wit I have so I thought I
might turn to the light side.
 
Stop here if you do not like unfunny humor..
 
 
        I'm sitting here on the back porch of my house, feet on the
banister, fishing pole in the water reading The Imitation of Christ by a'
Kempis to my friend Jack Daniels.
 
        I thought I might present some things that have happened to me
lately. I'm working on a book of unfunny humor and I've been searching for
rejections.
 
        Anyway, the other day, in the morning, one of my friends crashed
through my door. I watched him from the bedroom door. He grabbed my
Southern Comfort, drank half a bottle and sobbed on the bar.
 
        I walked over to him. I still wore my pajamas.
 
        He wept on my shoulder and said, "I just came back from a long haul
from Maine, all the way back here to the swamps of Florida, and I just
found my wife in bed with my mistress, they jumped up and ran off
together."
 
        "No wonder you're crying," I said.
 
        "I'm not crying because they left, I'm crying because they stole
Blue."
 
        "Oh God, how evil, stealing a man's best dog." I said.
 
        We cried on each other's shoulders.
 
        Now this is true, true as I am typing right now.
 
 
 
 
        Now the other incident happened today. It has to do with the
dangerous medical effects of humor.
 
        You see, I have this very good friend in my Bible Group, a Catholic
Nun, but I'm sorry to say, ugly as sin. She still wears the full black and
white penguin suit, you know, the one that serves as its own tent.
 
        She drove the ten gear semi with her penguin suit drown up too
high, I read the Imitation of Christ out loud and then I said, "I heard a
joke the other day but I don't understand it. Can I tell it to you?"
 
        She said sure, I closed the Imitation of Christ and said, "A man
sat down beside his teenage son."
        The son said, "Dad, my girl left me. She's dating another guy at
the school."
 
        The wise old father cast his fishing line into the swamp and said,
"Son, you got to learn two things. One is about food and shelter. The other
is about romantic love. First, the swamp will always provide plenty of food
and shelter. Second, you will be very happy in your love life if you fall
romantically and passionately and exclusively in love with your left hand."
 
        Well, my ugly-as-sin nun friend laughed herself into tears and a
red face, pulled into the wrong lane, and we hit a semi truck head on. We
carried electric fans. The other semi carried fertilizer, the wet kind from
bovines. I guess you could say the fertilizer hit the fan.
 
        She died then and there with a big smile on her face. Damn, now
I'll never get back the money I loaned her.
 
        I warn you, there are dangerous medical side effects to humor.
 
 
 
        One other bit of wisdom overheard while I sat with a straight back
and a level jaw and courageously and worked myself into a sweat to keep a
public toilet from floating off into space.
        An unseen father said to his unseen child, all I could see were
their feet, "Son, let me tell you what happiness really is.."
        I heard a sweet little voice say, "Yes Daddy."
        "Happiness is a fourteen foot jon boat in the swamps of Florida, a
fishing pole, your long legged red bone hunting dogs, enough beer for
yourself and your dogs, and your first or second or third or forth or fifth
or sixth or seventh or eighth or ninth wife.
 
 
David Okey Cummings [log in to unmask] President of The Florida Liars
Club
 
Please send me your erudite opinion of this humor along with an
explanation, please. I'll say my Rosary until you reply.
 
 
Since I'm new to many of you I'll include a resume to you fellow netters
and netterettes (oops, I'm starting off on the wrong foot with the ladies
again, no flame intended.)
 
     I was wondering who would be welcome to post, so I decided to sound
you all out.
 
     I earned a major in
 
        Philosophy, Catholic University, and
        Psychology, West Virginia University, my
 
        masters thesis on
 
        Criminology, ethical epistemology and did my dissertation on same,
Florida State University and found the pickens thin. I went back to
college, earned a major, Florida State University, and a
        masters in
 
        Accounting, University of North Florida, became a
        Certified Public Accountant,
        taught college, and finally, after many years, retired from
teaching and accounting to look after my sick hunting dogs, and here I am
in the wonderful swamps of Florida with my dogs. No matter what I did I
still lost some of my dogs. They're waiting for me with St. Peter.
 
     I'm writing "The Hegelian Guide to Fishing," "The Zen of the Cast,"
"The Ontology of the Tall Tale," and "The Ten Most Entertaining Liars in
History."
 
     Now, I've become partial to the humor of the epistemology of  fishing,
from the points of view of Plato, Aristotle, St. Thomas and other great
philosophers.
 
     I want to say I'm sorry again to the pretty ladies on the list. I
didn't mean to call you netterettes.  My third and present wife will swear
for me that I love women almost as much as I love my dogs. Why, sometimes I
think I may even love myself almost as much as I love my dogs, that's a lot
of love.
 
     Being partial to epistemology and dogs, I've written a few things
about Samson, old testament for those of you that be heathens, no offense
intended, and Jesus called the Christ, not the kids called Jesus in the
Mexican tradition, their parents mean no offense to Jesus Christ, I'm sure.
I've also written about the Yom Kippur War and been banned in Israel, I
think they intended offense. I've touched on the tough-guy genre and I try
to write in the holographic tradition with great weight placed on short
psychic distance as in the theater.
 
   I have some bad relatives. Just yesterday one of my aged aunts leaned on
her walker and shot the tits off the neighbors cow from four hundred yards.
Politically incorrect targeting. She can shoot the sheriff's hat badge off
his head from five hundred yards. Most times he stays away. Well, I
sometimes write about this aunt and the cruel things she does. (The cow
invaded her garden for the seventh time.)
     Don't you worry, there will be due punishment. Auntie told the sheriff
I shot the cow's tits off so I'm going to jail tomorrow. I'll sure miss my
dogs.
 
David Okey Cummings, [log in to unmask]
 
Philosopher of Fishing and Epistemology Surgeon, please excuse my  typos,
this word processor doesn't like the smell of fish.
 
p.s. My wife read this and said, "Damn David, the netterettes on this list
are going to flame you."
 
     Am I too politically incorrect for this list?
 
 
David Okey Cummings, [log in to unmask]
 
FREE-LANCE INTERNET INFORMATION BROKER
 
FREE-LANCE JOURNALIST
 
        Sing to the tune of The Mighty Mouse Cartoon
 
        Evil will not win the day
        I, a Journalist, come to save the day
 
Chained Free-lance Journalist, Broken Information Broker, Unfunny Humorist,
Written Off Writer, and World Record Holder of Rejection Letters asking for
your opinions so I can file them in Volume Three of the extended index of
my suicide note.