TELECOM Digest OnLine - Sorted: Last Laugh! A Final Example of the Idiotic Spam Going Around

Last Laugh! A Final Example of the Idiotic Spam Going Around

Patrick Townson via Nora Burch (
Tue, 12 Jul 2005 22:47:47 -0500

[TELECOM Digest Editor's Note: Nora Burch was formerly employed by
Harvard University until she was fired because of her web log ('blog')
which is part of her web site . When
I reviewed her site over last weekend, I found several very clever
examples of her writing; take-offs on the sort of spam which has
made the rounds on the net in recent years. I do not want to belabor
this for too long, but here is one that originally appeared in
_Reader's Digest_ many years ago which circulates on the net a lot,
but in its original format. You should easily be able to spot the
alterations in Nora's account. PAT


Like any good mother, when Bertha found out that another baby was on
the way, she did what she could do to help her 33-year-old son,
Buford, prepare for a new sibling. They found out that the new baby
was going to be a hermaphrodite, and day after day, night after night,
Buford would sing to his brother/sister in Mommy's tummy. The
pregnancy progressed normally for Bertha. Then the labor pains came.
Every five minutes ... every minute. But complications arose during
delivery. Weeks of labor. A C-Section was required. Finally, Buford's
little brother/sister was born, but s/he was in serious
condition. With sirens howling in the night, the ambulance rushed the
infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Hilda's Hospital in
Scituate, Massachusetts.

The days inched by. The little boy/girl got worse. The pediatric
specialist tells the parents, "It's gonna die soon, whoo-ee!." Bertha
and her husband contacted a ditch digger about a burial plot. They had
fixed up a special corner in their basement for the new baby -- now
they plan a funeral. Buford, kept begging his parent to let him see
his brother/sister, "I want to yell at him/ her," he says.

Week two in intensive care. It looked as if a funeral would come
before the week was over. Buford keeps nagging about singing to his
brother/sister, but kids are never allowed in Intensive Care.

Bertha made up her mind. She would take Buford whether they liked it
or not. If he didn't see his brother/sister now, he would never see
him/her alive.

She dressed him in an oversized scrub suit and marched him into
ICU. He looked like a walking laundry basket, but the head nurse
recognized him as a child and bellowed, "Get that kid out of here now!
No children are allowed in ICU."

The mother rises up strong in Bertha, and the usually mild-mannered
lady glares steel-eyed into the head nurse's face, her lips a firm
line. "He is not leaving until he sings to his brother/sister!"

Bertha tows Buford to his brother/sister's bedside. He gazes at the
tiny infant losing the battle to live. And he begins to sing. In the
pure-hearted voice of a 33-year-old, Buford sings:

"Smokin' in the boys' room-"

Instantly the baby girl responded. The pulse rate became calm and

"Smokin' in the boys' room..."

The ragged strained breathing became as smooth as a kitten's purr.

"'teacher, dont' you fill me up with your rule...cause everybody

Buford's little brother/sister relaxes as rest, healing rest, seemed
to sweep over her. Tears conquered the face of the bossy head
nurse. Bertha glowed.

"that smokin' ain't allowed in school."

Funeral plans were scrapped. The next day, the very next day, the
little boy/girl was well enough to go home! Soldier of Fortune
magazine called it "the miracle of a brother's song." The medical
staff just said "forward this incident to everyone on the net you
know, immediately!"


[TELECOM Digest Editor's Note: Nora, that one was just plain weird.
But then, so is so much spam going around. PAT]

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