Mother's Whistler

Not long ago, a friend's Mother harmlessly forwarded a harmless email to a bunch of people, an email containing a very good "story" joke. But near the tailing end of the forwarded email, among the usual 68 furlongs of forwarded addresses, attachments, virus warnings, cloyingly cute quotes, Russian novel-length email signatures, and helpful "You'll love this!" addenda, was what my nieces would call a "bad word."

I have no doubt - no doubt at all - that my friend's good and innocent Mother, like most people, never even slogged through the entire email and its endless hitchhiker commentary - that she had no idea of the little included bit of blue language. But my friend and I are...well...evil, and we were not about to miss such a delicious chops-busting opportunity. So we teamed up and composed a fictional "Oh! The Horror" letter of shame to her Mom and their extended family.

The Digressive Rant

I wonder: for the first several thousand years of history, prior to the invention and intrusion of email, how did the human race manage to share jokes? Surely we didn't just (gasp!) talk, face to face?

And what's with all these chain email Zen-like directives? These endless, tiring "forward this to 10 people or your couch will get leprosy!!!" advisories? Some of these people have never stopped checking their email account long enough to ever leave the house and actually meet 10 people.

But I digress.

The Familial Letter

Dear Family,

It is a sad day.

Not long ago, if anyone had suggested that my Mother would employ the word "bull*" in an email, even a forwarded email, I would have...well...taken a severely contrary position regarding their unfounded accusation, and I would have...well...called into question their alleged position in the evolutionary food chain.

But as we now know from her recent forwarded email, your shared sister, spouse, niece, aunt - my Mother - has darkened our dawn. Oh, the wailing. Oh, the gnashing of teeth. Oh, how the times have changed.

I don't know about your hometowns, but if news of this embarrassment should ever surface where I live, here in the city of Creyer (pronounced 'Cur'), it won't go well with the locals. This turn of events could easily damage my hard-earned standing amongst the highly-respected and usually clothed "Sunday Picnic & Karaoke Throw-Down" group.

It gets worse. You should also know that I received a disturbing email auto-response from the Department of Homeland Security (Rush Limbaugh Media Watchdog Censorship Swat Team Division). Someone, somehow, apparently forwarded the disturbing joke to them, too, and President Obama had to rush out to the Rose Garden and create another Czar. Joe Biden, appearing on MSNBC's news show, "Enchantment On The Mall," announced that he would never, under these current circumstances, let his family ride on Rush Limbaugh. Defending his position, Biden said, "I've got three words for you: Swine Flu."

Here's the response from Homeland Security:

WARNING!! Your message was blocked by our highly-expensive internal email filter. The violation fell into one or more of the following disallowed categories:

• An unapproved public financial analysis involving the words 'Bull' and 'Market'
• Content that was deemed highly unusual, suspicious or cryptic, in that you did not directly scoff at any current or nominated Czars
• Profiling flag, triggered by the obviously hate-crime-oriented word "google"

Please correct said violations and resend your message at your earliest convenience so we can reject it again. And may any relevant, fully-secular, denomination-non-specific, universal entities bless America.

To the distraught members of my extended family: we'll talk about this stinging revelation, and what type of stabilizing medication or group intervention may be warranted, later this month when I return from therapy. In order to sit down and discuss things, we'll have to meet at your place, because my couch is currently in leprosy quarantine.

Mom: We, of course, forgive you. And I just want you to know that, after your inevitable excommunication from the Baptist church in your home town, you will always - ALWAYS - be welcome at my church, the Creyer Saints Of The Confederacy And Sanctified Serpentarium.

Please use the back door.