Please Forward to Someone Else
.....Copyright 2001 by Joseph P. Infranco
Alright, we all get lots of junk e-mail. We all know members of the faithful forwarding brigade, whose mission in life seems to be not only cluttering your e-mail, but getting you to pass something along to 5 or 6 people to brighten their day, or help them remember how special and unique they are. I do not feel special when receiving bulk pass-it- along messages. Nor do I do feel encouraged in my uniqueness when receiving chain e-mails. In fact, it makes me feel like I'm stuck with the masses in some type of feel good spiritual ponzi scheme, certain to collapse if everyone tries to get in their five pass it ons. In short, the feel-good e-mail chains with their urgent "pass it along" philosophy irritate me.
You may object that this amounts to an unnecessarily cynical view. Perhaps it does, and it will undoubtedly seem all the more so to those who derive comfort from these chain messages, or who find meaning in life from their call to the forwarding ministry. To hold such a view, though, might also indicate just how much one has become part of the problem. When the mission to lighten the world's load with sentimental forwards becomes a sacred rite, an attack on the subject brings deep offense. Nothing produces a reaction like an assault against hallowed practices.
Granted, not all the pass alongs are flowery messages of encouragement. There are political messages, all sorts of humor, the interesting "facts", "did you know" lists, stories, and much miscellanea. The difference with most of these, however, is that they rarely encourage the pass-it-along mania. When they are worthwhile, we may want to do so, but feel no sense of violating the moral law should we fail to do so. One other exception which comes to mind is the "you can be rich" business chain letter, which promises to fulfill all your earthly avarice if you will merely send an e-mail to everyone you know, and convince them to do the same. The creators of these schemes are despicable cads, of course, for whom the constitution's prohibition against cruel and unusual punishment should be suspended.
I've noticed a few interesting things about the e-mail chain craze. You learn a lot about your friends by the type and quantity of material they pass along. First of all, you learn who has too much time on their hands and will someday suffer whatever malady it is that comes from excessive exposure to monitor glare. You can also learn who is selective and passes things along which are actually of interest to you, and who prefers the shotgun approach, which is to say you'll be getting both barrels in the hope a few pieces find the mark. I've been surprised to find certain friends have a sentimental streak or soft spot. I maintain the chain craze is motivated by certain emotions, which must be felt strongly enough to activate the frenzy threshold. For example, anger will motivate some people, as in the support or opposition of a candidate or a cause. Greed may also turn the trick, particularly where one is promised a ponzi-type piece of the action. Spiritual messages will always find a ready audience as well, but the strangest eye opener for me has been the motivating power of something like gushy feel-good sentimentalism. The prevalence of this oozy mawkishness has come as a revelation. I would not have thought sentimentalism so strong a motivating force, but heck, someone must be buying those huge flowery Valentine Day cards with the bad poetry. The sentimentalists walk among us, formerly undetected, and are now seeking to enlist us in the cause.
I have become determined to free myself from such sentimentalism, and with it the attempt at bondage from the chain mail militia. One problem, however, is that many of the offenders happen to be friends. Some are very good friends, in fact, with whom I could hold lengthy conversations on deep matters of common interest. But, like the peaceable citizen who is transformed into a raving lunatic behind a steering wheel, the avid forwarder is metamorphosed before the monitor. I have never actually witnessed the event, but can imagine the scene. Here is honest John, good citizen and family man, sitting at his computer checking e-mail. As he reads a pass along message, his eyes go glassy and his jaw slackens. He takes on a faint look of rapture and his head begins nodding, slowly at first, and then faster. His hand scrolls to an address book and his eyes mercilessly scour a list of names; he hits one, and then another, and another. His grin grows broader and he begins humming. Perhaps he is not even conscious during the procedure, and maybe emerges later as one from a trance. Now I don't pretend to say that this is how it always happens, but it seems to me a likely scenario. It must be a frightening spectacle.
The actual messages take several approaches to either shame or goad us into sharing their warm sentiments. The milk of human kindness is usually the superficial motive, but guilt is often lurking in the vicinity. Once I received a message concerning my religious faith, which subject I take very seriously. The message suggested that my real faith could be demonstrated by passing the message to five other people, implying that the failure to do so would relegate me to the spiritual junk heap and expose my hypocrisy. Rather than leaving me encouraged, the message created an immediate inner conflict, as I was torn between turning the other cheek and throttling the sender. Here is the problem in a nutshell. Many of these messages end thus: "Don't you feel good now that you've read this? Don't you want others to feel this way too?" If the message brings about as much joy as a root canal, should we be expected to send it to others? Do we want them to suffer with us, and is stuffing people's e-mail boxes really a noble cause? Here's how I propose to handle the matter. I have not yet reached the point where I can delete forwards from friends without opening them. I don't know why, I just can't. It would be too much like throwing out a paper letter without reading it. Instead, I skim to the end of the letter. If I see words like "if you really care about other people and want to make the world a better place, then sent this to . . ." I instantly and ruthlessly delete the message. Unread. I've been told that my unwillingness will bring harm to the world, withhold comfort to the needy, and tell people I don't care about anyone. That's too bad, cause I've been liberated. There has been a price for this freedom. Like the portrait of Dorian Grey, my hard drive records every message of hope, joy, and feel good stuff that I have refused to pass on. It is a silent witness to my callous indifference, storing up a record of my sins of omission. My soul grows more unfeeling with every deletion. Moreover, the lost business opportunities that would have made me rich mock me with every bill that arrives at the house. Wealth will pass me by because of foolish indifference.
Despite it all, I have a newfound sense of freedom. Are you also sick of the chain e-mails? Then take my suggestion; make a copy of this and pass it along to five friends, and encourage them to do the same. In doing this, you will make the world a better place, promote peace and harmony, and reduce repetitive motion nerve injuries of the wrist. And if we all pass this along, in a short time the world will be rid of this awful practice. Only you can spread the news and restore tranquility and hope to a needy and hurting world. Or, on second thought, you could just forget about it.
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