There is an underground community, which you and I are unaware of, that communicates amongst themselves every day. It consists of senior citizens, rural farmers, the sheltered religious, and your mother. It's the community of people who receive inspiring, extremely sappy stories through E-mail or Facebook, then spread them to all their friends. Your clique is probably different and you have probably never seen most of them. Until today!

It's said that we have a choice to make. I've chosen. Now it's your turn to choose. The story goes that some time ago, a man punished his 5-year-old daughter for wasting a roll of expensive gold wrapping paper. Money was tight and he became even more upset when the child pasted the gold paper so as to decorate a box to put under the Christmas tree. Nevertheless, the little girl brought the gift box to her father the next morning and said, "This is for you, Daddy." The father was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again when he found the box was empty. He spoke to her in a harsh manner: "Don't you know, young lady, when you give someone a present there's supposed to be something inside the package?

The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and said: "Daddy, it's not empty. I blew kisses into it until it was full."

The father was crushed. He fell on his knees and put his arms around his little girl, and he begged her to forgive him for his unnecessary anger.

An accident took the life of the child only a short time later and it is told that the father kept that gold box by his bed for all the years of his life. And whenever he was discouraged or faced difficult problems he would open the box and take out an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there.

So many nagging questions come out of this. First is gold wrapping paper any more expensive than normal wrapping paper? It can't be made out of actual gold -- that wouldn't be practical and you couldn't fold it. Maybe the dad is a vintage wrapping paper collector and the gold paper was a rare 1947 American Greetings Original, sealed in plastic, of which only 50 exist?

You think this guy overreacted? Even if you're somehow so destitute that you can't afford a cheap $1 roll of wrapping paper from the dollar store, you can just wrap your presents in a paper bag or a newspaper. How is that worth chewing out your kid?

If that's not outrageous enough...say you have a child and he or she gives you a present that's empty. Would you laugh it off (like most people) or would you become broiled in a furious rage (like this guy)? "EMPTY? I WAS EXPECTING A NEW FISHING ROD! YOU'RE GROUNDED!!"

Wait. If you can't afford wrapping paper, how can you afford presents? Ow, my head....

Then there's that opener.
"It's said that we have a choice to make. I've chosen. Now it's your turn to choose."

Only your mother knows.

Brownie Recipe

A father of some teenage children had the family rule that they could not attend PG-13 or R rated movies. His three teens wanted to see a particular popular movie that was playing at local theaters. It was rated PG-13.

The teens interviewed friends and even some members of their family's church to find out what was offensive in the movie. The teens made a list of pros and cons about the movie to use to convince their dad that they should be allowed to see it. The con's were that it contained ONLY 3 swear words, the ONLY violence was a building exploding (and you see that on TV all the time they said), and you actually did not "see" the couple in the movie having sex - it was just implied sex, off camera. The pros were that it was a popular movie - a block buster. Everyone was seeing it. If the teens saw the movie then they would not feel left out when their friends discussed it. The movie contained a good story and plot. It had some great adventure and suspense in it. There were some fantastic special effects in this movie. The movie's stars were some of the most talented actors in Hollywood. It probably would be nominated for several awards.

Many of the members of their Christian church had even seen the movie and said it wasn't "very bad". Therefore, since there were more pros than cons the teens said they were asking their father to reconsider his position on just this ONE movie and let them have permission to go see it.

The father looked at the list and thought for a few minutes. He said he could tell his children had spent some time and thought on this request. He asked if he could have a day to think about it before making his decision. The teens were thrilled thinking; "Now we've got him! Our argument is too good! Dad can't turn us down!" So, they happily agreed to let him have a day to think about their request.

The next evening the father called in his three teenagers, who were smiling smugly, into the living room. There on the coffee table he had a plate of brownies. The teens were puzzled. The father told his children he had thought about their request and had decided that if they would eat a brownie then he would let them go to the movie. But just like the movie, the brownies had pros and cons.

The pros were that they were made with the finest chocolate and other good ingredients. They had the added special effect of yummy walnuts in them. The brownies were moist and fresh with wonderful chocolate frosting on top. He had made these fantastic brownies using an award-winning recipe. And best of all, the brownies had been made lovingly by the hand of their own father.

The brownies only had one con. The father had included a little bit of a special ingredient. The brownies also contained just a little bit of dog poop. But he had mixed the dough well - they probably would not even be able to taste the dog poop and he had baked it at 350 degrees so any bacteria or germs from the dog poop had probably been destroyed.

Therefore, if any of his children could stand to eat the brownies which included just a "little bit of crap" and not be effected by it, then he knew they would also be able to see the movie with "just a little bit of smut" and not be effected.

Of course, none of the teens would eat the brownies and the smug smiles had left their faces. Only Dad was smiling smugly as they left the room.

Now when his teenagers ask permission to do something he is opposed to the father just asks, "Would you like me to whip up a batch of my special brownies?"

Show of hands. How many guessed the brownies had poop in them before the story got to that point? ...Yup, all of you.
This isn't the case for the average chain mail reading soccer mom, who isn't as media savvy (or, let's just say it, as bright) and is geniunely surprised by every old joke she hears on a CBS laugh-track sitcom.

If watching a movie rated for people 13 and above is like eating a brownie with traces of turd matter in it, then REAL LIFE must be like walking back and forth under a telephone wire full of birds with your mouth open, right? Forget just the'd better not go outside, ever! Lesson learned, Smug Dad.

Honestly? I think this E-mail is more dangerous than any PG-13 movie. No one's going to imitate the outrageous moments in the film, but surely, some redneck out there is going to read this and try mixing dog crap in with cookies to teach his kids a lesson. Hyuk!


About one year ago, a fifteen year old girl died. her name: Lisa Marie she was a very lovely girl. She lived in Michigan. And hung herself in her own house. In her room, five days after her death, her mother found Lisa's diary. She wanted to know why Lisa hung herself. theses are the entries of her diary:

November 7,1999

Dear diary, today was my first day of school in Michigan. When I walked in the classroom some of the guys spit wads at me and called me a freak. That's the start of a bad day. Then some really popular pretty girls walked over to me and introduces theirselves. They told me that I was the ugliest thing they'd ever seen, and i started to cry. I went home and Jake called me.

I thought the day would get better. But he told me that long distance relationships dont work out. He lived in California, and I moved to Michigan.

Then I told him I loved him and that I missed him. He told me that the only reason he ever went out with me was because I was a joke, and he was dared to. Then he dumped me. We were going out for two and a half years!

November 9,1999

Today got a little better. I miss jake so much you dont even know diary!!!! But he even changed his number so I wouldn't call him. But the most hottest guy at school asked me to the dance! And those prissy girls that said im ugly let me hang out with them at lunch today. It was cool!!

November 10,1999

I'm crying right now... turns out that hot guy was a jerk at the dance he poured his punch on me, and those girls ripped my dress and everyone started laughing.

Then my grandma told me today that mom and dad got in a little car accident today at work. They're in critical condition, they might die. I can't write anymore.

November 11, 1999

Todays a saturday... but me and grandma were at the hospital all night long. Dad died this morning. Mom is going to live, but she's crippled for her life. I wanna die too. while we were at the hospital grandma found out that she had cancer in her stomach. She has to go on chemo-therapy.

I cant believe daddy died. I'm crying more then I have my whole life. I'm in shock. I cant write...I'm too tired. I need sleep.

November 12

Daddy is not dead! He can't be!

Its all a dream. My life is perfect. Jake still loves me. I can barely write. I'm crying too much. I wanna die. Take me. Bye...

One day later, Lisa was found dead in her basement. She had hung herself with a yellow rope. I am her mother. My name is Maranda Gonzalez.

The reason I wrote this e-mail to all of you, is because no one else deserves what my daughter had.

Please remember that everyone needs love. Everyone needs a hug everyday. No one should be made fun of, or insulted. No one deserves to die like Lisa did.

All of you please dont be the popular prissy girls that put other people down to make themselves feel better! Please dont be the awful posessed date for the dance that makes people cry.

Now please do me the honor of sending this to as many people as you can think of. So that way everyone will know not to be a jerk.

Thank you.

Everyone who send this will be rewarded with a random act of kindness.. this i promise you.

This is one of the fakest things I've ever read.

I'm not being cruel or insensitive; the girl really doesn't exist. Snopes looked into it and found no record of a girl named Lisa Marie Gonzalez dying in Michigan in 1999.

And Jake seems like he was really dedicated to the prank to pretend to date Lisa for two and a half years -- talk about a long con. I guess it doesn't matter as she gets over him mid-sentence (the hottest guy ever asked me out!!)

Anyway, if any prissy high school girls read this, which is doubtful, they would have learned not to pick on any girl outside of their clique, because that girl might have all her loved ones dying in the same week. Or, like Avril Lavigne said, you shouldn't put down an extreme skater, because then he could become a rock star, and then you'd feel really bad, wouldn't you?

And now that I've sent this, where is my random act of kindness?

Like any good mother, when Karen found out that another baby was on the way, she did what she could do to help her 3-year-old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling. They found out that the new baby was going to be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael would sing to his sister in Mommy's tummy.

The pregnancy progressed normally for Karen. Then the labor pains came. Every five minutes . . . every minute.

But complications arose during delivery. Hours of labor. A C-Section was required. Finally, Michael's little sister was born, but she was in serious condition. With sirens howling in the night, the ambulance rushed the infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Mary's Hospital in Knoxville, Tennessee.

The days inched by. The little girl got worse. The pediatric specialist tells the parents, "There is little hope. Be prepared for the worst." Karen and her husband contacted a local cemetery about a burial plot. The had fixed up a special room in their home for the new baby — now they plan a funeral. Michael, kept begging his parent to let him see his sister, "I want to sing to her," he says.

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

Karen made up her mind. She would take Michael whether they liked it or not. If he didn't see his sister now, he would never see 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 Karen, 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 sister!"

Karen tows Michael to his 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 3-year-old, Michael sings:

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray —"

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

"You never know, dear, how much I love you, Please don't take my sunshine away —"

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

"The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms . . ."

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

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Please don't take my sunshine away."

Funeral plans were scrapped. The next day, the very next day, the little girl was well enough to go home! Woman's Day magazine called it "the miracle of a brother's song." The medical staff just called it a miracle.

Actually, THIS is one of the fakest things I've ever read.

Even among E-mail chains, this one's pretty hardcore. So "You Are My Sunshine" has healing powers when sung by a small kid. Are there stronger songs he could have used? Would Barry Manilow have healed the baby beyond the mortal plane and turned him into a glowing astral superbeing?

The writer slipped up when s/he identified the hospital by name, because St. Mary's in Knoxville has no policy forbidding children from ICU.


Obama Removes American Flag from His Plane

He has turned Air Force One into a campaign slogan carrier... not only the Obama Campaign logo on the tail, it bears his Campaign Slogan. I do believe in most States there are laws against something so blatantly an abuse of power, using public funds for campaigning. Atop this "personalization of Air Force One", Obama has logged more miles than any previous President. We have a triple A president Audacity, Abuse, and Arrogance... He should pay for the cost of repainting/restoring the craft.... this guy has to go.

Umm....that's not Air Force One, dude. You might want to think before you copy-paste pictures of a 2008 campaign jet.
For the record, Obama's 2012 re-election slogan is "Forward," not "Change." At least do some Photoshopping to back up your claims.



A young boy in Buenos Aires has a cardiac problem and requires a heart transplant to live. The operation costs $115,200.00 Internet service providers (both local and foreign) will donate $0.01 (one cent) for each e-mail that is sent which bears the title "SOLIDARIDAD CON BRIAN" in the "subject" line. It is therefore important to be sure to keep this title in the subject line!!

The child (who is currently in the hospital) has been given a laptop computer with Internet access, so that he can watch the amount of donated money grow over time. There needs to be 11.5 million e-mails sent (to anyone), in order to finance the operation. But be sure to keep the same words in the subject line: "SOLIDARIDAD CON BRIAN"

So please take a few minutes to forward a copy of this message on to everyone on your e-mail list — or at least as many as possible. It can literally save this child's life!

And please do not forget to keep the same title, exactly as written, in the subject line — this is the only way they can keep track of how many are sent. Thank you so much!

Yeah, that sounds legit. Your ISP watches every E-mail you send so that they can give one measly cent to an ailing boy every time they see a certain subject line.

The biggest mystery here is why someone would make this in the first place. None of the supposed money makes it back to the original sender, as it's creating none. Instead it's telling you the E-mails themselves are making the money. Normally, scams like this are written to generate illicit cash -- what's going on this time? This isn't the only chain of its kind either. I don't get it.


When I got home that night as my wife served dinner, I held her hand and said, I've got something to tell you. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes.

Suddenly I didn't know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the topic calmly.

She didn't seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why?

I avoided her question. This made her angry. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, you are not a man! That night, we didn't talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer; she had lost my heart to Jane. I didn't love her anymore. I just pitied her!

With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company.

She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources and energy but I could not take back what I had said for I loved Jane so dearly. Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer now.

The next day, I came back home very late and found her writing something at the table. I didn't have supper but went straight to sleep and fell asleep very fast because I was tired after an eventful day with Jane.

When I woke up, she was still there at the table writing. I just did not care so I turned over and was asleep again.

In the morning she presented her divorce conditions: she didn't want anything from me, but needed a month's notice before the divorce. She requested that in that one month we both struggle to live as normal a life as possible. Her reasons were simple: our son had his exams in a month's time and she didn't want to disrupt him with our broken marriage.

This was agreeable to me. But she had something more, she asked me to recall how I had carried her into our bridal room on our wedding day.

She requested that every day for the month's duration I carry her out of our bedroom to the front door ever morning. I thought she was going crazy. Just to make our last days together bearable I accepted her odd request.

I told Jane about my wife's divorce conditions. She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she applies, she has to face the divorce, she said scornfully.

Show of hands many think this scheme of hers is going to work perfectly? ....Everyone? Yup.

My wife and I hadn't had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mommy in his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly; don't tell our son about the divorce. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for the bus to work. I drove alone to the office.

On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn't looked at this woman carefully for a long time. I realized she was not young any more. There were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair was graying! Our marriage had taken its toll on her. For a minute I wondered what I had done to her.

On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me.

On the fifth and sixth day, I realized that our sense of intimacy was growing again. I didn't tell Jane about this. It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger.

She was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have grown bigger. I suddenly realized that she had grown so thin, that was the reason why I could carry her more easily.

Growing thin, is she? HMM.

Our son came in at the moment and said, Dad, it's time to carry mom out. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly; it was just like our wedding day.

But her much lighter weight made me sad. On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her tightly and said, I hadn't noticed that our life lacked intimacy.

I drove to office.... jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind...I walked upstairs. Jane opened the door and I said to her, Sorry, Jane, I do not want the divorce anymore.

She looked at me, astonished, and then touched my forehead. Do you have a fever? She said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry, Jane, I said, I won't divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn't value the details of our lives, not because we didn't love each other anymore. Now I realize that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day I am supposed to hold her until death do us apart.

Jane seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away.

At the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, I'll carry you out every morning until death do us apart.


Based on the way every single other one of these E-mail stories has ended, and based on the thousand telegraphed hints this story has already given us....


That evening I arrived home, flowers in my hands, a smile on my face, I run up stairs, only to find my wife in the bed - dead. My wife had been fighting CANCER for months and I was so busy with Jane to even notice. She knew that she would die soon and she wanted to save me from the whatever negative reaction from our son, in case we push thru with the divorce — at least, in the eyes of our son — I'm a loving husband...

The small details of your lives are what really matter in a relationship. It is not the mansion, the car, property, the money in the bank. These create an environment conducive for happiness but cannot give happiness in themselves. So find time to be your spouse's friend and do those little things for each other that build intimacy. Do have a real happy marriage!

On the surface, this could be a touching tale of commitment and loss, but it crumbles to bits when you think about one part of it. Wife didn't want Husband to divorce him while she was dying because he would have looked like a heartless monster in front of their son if he did such a thing. So....why didn't she tell him she was dying in the first place? This seems like a nice enough man; he would have stayed with Wife until the end. And when she finally did pass away, he wouldn't be a widower for long. He would have Jane to support him and his son.

Now the husband doesn't have a wife OR Jane. He has to start all over! He has to sleep alone! What a nice thing for Unnamed Wife to do for him!

It's all right, I'm sure she's in hell now.