E-mail

I was checking my e-mail recently—which I do many, many times a day—and I was reminded what wonderful possibilities I have presented to me many, many times a day.

For some reason I get a lot of e-mail from people who want to sell me replicas of expensive watches. They don’t claim that their watches are as good as the expensive watches, just that they look like the expensive watches, so people will think I have an expensive watch even though I don’t. They say I’ll look “classy and professional,” but I think they’re piling it on. I wonder what made them think I was a likely buyer.

I get offers to sell me popular software in the original box for way less than retail. I don’t know how they do it, but if I ever decide on a fool-proof scheme for making thousands of dollars on the Internet from the convenience of my own home, I won’t care how much my software costs, so that’s what I’m focusing on.

In addition to lots of ways to make millions, I’m regularly offered chances to save money, too, sometimes with a new and improved home loan from one of my helpful banker friends, sometimes with a new and improved home equity loan from people who have such faith in me that they don’t even care about my credit rating, all I have to do is click (in complete safety) where they say.

I could already be a winner at a casino without knowing it. They’ll tell me what I won when I get there. I can also gamble online, if I need another way to keep my conveniently earned tens of thousands of dollars a day in circulation.

Mostly I get e-mail about my phallus, my rod, my John Thomas. Not that I get e-mail addressed to my dick, although it might as well be. The corporati know I’m old, so many, many times a day I get e-mail that promises to make me a paragon, not to mention a pillar, of masculinity and irresistible virility, which they figure for most old guys is an invented memory. Since old guys are prone to flagging, guaranteed sexual performance is attractive to us, and to old women, too, I suppose.

As I was typing this, I got a message from a Web site that wants to introduce me to hot women in Chico, although I bet the same folks would probably be willing to set me up with a guy, just to be fair.

As an American, I sleep easier knowing that if I’m ever attacked by self-doubt regarding the size or general adequacy of my manhood, including but not limited to short- and long-twitch muscle fibers, ability to home in on the elusive G-spot, and tendency to maintain an erection long enough to satisfy any partner, I can get the drug or device I require on the Internet, 24 hours a day, with complete financial security. What a wonderful world.