The Truth about the Bricklayer 3/12/00

I hate chain emails.

I used to get them all the time. Most are jokes, being passed around. But a few are far more insidious. I don't have any of these on-hand to show you, but I think I can reproduce one ...

This e-mail is for good luck!

Send this to as many friends as you can! If you send it to three friends, you'll be spared an indignant death! If you send it to ten friends, you'll drive a fancy car! If you send it to twenty-five friends, you'll marry well and your parents-in-law will die young! If you send it to five hundred friends, Bill Gates will suck your cock in Times Square!

Blah-blah-blah. You've all gotten the e-mails, and you know how they read. However, I have a great response to those mails. Copy this down, and Reply it to the next stupid fuck who sends you such nonsense.

Dear Poor Bastard,

I'm terribly sorry, but it's extremely bad luck to send me a chain e-mail for good luck.

Martha Jones sent me a Good Luck e-mail in 1998. When she tried to divorce her husband two months later, the video tape of her husband boffing the family dog had been set next to a pencil sharpener, and her son had sharpened an entire box of #2 Ticonderogas. The tape was ruined, and she was forced to return to car sales in order to support their five children.

Katheryn Nanunanu was deathly afraid of flying, dark, water, and large reptiles. After she sent me a chain letter, her airplane went down in Okeefenokee Swamp at three in the morning. The alligators had gnawed on her skull pretty good by the time they found the body.

Chester Gonzales sent me a chain letter late in 1999. He lost his left testicle in a meatball factory during a machinery/masturbation accident. As it turned out, the mishap was bad luck for all of Chile, as they failed to find the testicle after the accident.

I'm terribly sorry. Please accept whatever terrible fate has been handed to you with as much dignity as you can muster.

Love,
Mr. Steele

Needless to say, I've had one or two pinheads e-mail me back, asking me how I could wish such terrible things on them. I don't know exactly how any of them died, but I know that their funerals were closed-casket affairs.

I think it's also needless to say that the number of my chain e-mails has been reduced greatly.

Still, a very good friend of mine sent me this one -- and I'm glad he did. Art, you're the man.

This one is awsome...

This is an accident report, which was printed in the newsletter of the British equivalent of the Workers' Compensation Board.

This is the bricklayer's report, a true story. Had this guy died, he'd have been given a Darwin Award for sure!

For those of you who aren't aware -- the Darwin Award is given for extraordinarly stupid deaths. I'm sure my mother looks forward to recieving her plaque, after I pass away. I don't know exactly how I'm going to die, but I know it's going to be good and stupid. But back to the letter ...

Dear Sir:

I am writing in response to your request for additional information in Block #3 of the accident report form. I put "Poor Planning" as the cause of my accident. You asked for a fuller explanation and I trust the following details will be sufficient.

I am a bricklayer by trade. On the day of the accident, I was working alone on the roof of a new six-story building. When I completed my work, I found I had some bricks left over which, when weighed later were found to be slightly in excess of 500lbs. Rather than carry the bricks down by hand, I decided to lower them in a barrel by using a pulley, which was attached to the side of the building at the sixth floor. Securing the rope at ground level, I went up to the roof, swung the barrel out and loaded the bricks into it. Then I went down and untied the rope, holding it tightly to ensure a slow descent of the bricks. You will note in block #11 of the accident report form that my weight is 135 lbs. Due to my surprise at being jerked off the ground so suddenly, I lost my presence of mind and forgot to let go of the rope. Needless to say, I proceeded at a rapid rate up the side of the building. In the vicinity of the third floor, I met the barrel which was now proceeding downward at an equally impressive speed.

This explains the fractured skull, minor abrasions and the broken collarbone, as listed in Section 3 of the accident report form. Slowed only slightly, I continued my rapid ascent, not stopping until the fingers of my right hand were two knuckles deep into the pulley. Fortunately by this time I had regained my presence of mind and was able to hold tightly to the rope, in spite of the excruciating pain I was now beginning to experience. At approximately the same time, however, the barrel of bricks hit the ground and the bottom fell out of the barrel.

Now devoid of the weight of the bricks, that barrel weighed approximately 50 lbs. I refer you again to my weight. As you might imagine, I began a rapid descent down the side of the building. In the vicinity of the third floor, met the barrel coming up. This accounts for the two fractured ankles, broken tooth and severe lacerations of my legs and lower body.

Here my luck began to change slightly. The encounter with the barrel seemed to slow me enough to lessen my injuries when I fell into the pile of bricks and fortunately only three vertebrae were cracked.

I am sorry to report, however, as I lay there on the pile of bricks, in pain, unable to move, I again lost my composure and presence of mind and let go of the rope and I lay there watching the empty barrel begin its journey back onto me. This explains the two broken legs.

I don't know who this person is, but I'm guessing his last name is 'Adams.' This whole story just reeks of something one of us would do.

I wept with hysteria when I read this. I hope you do, too.