1 March 99
Monday 01:50
Saint David's Day

I just came in from a walk in the rain. It started as a trip to the mailbox, but after I threw my sheaf of payments in, I just kept on going. It's another one of those nights I can't walk long enough or far enough to get away from what's bothering me; can't walk long enough or far enough to get to where I want to be...

As I was walking, it ocurred to me that midnight had come and gone, and therefore it was now March, Saint David's Day, and that I was wearing my "leek," only it was actually a "leak" in my left boot. I was soaked from the knees down anyway because of the rain running down my Gor-Tex coat, but the weather is mild in spite of the melting snow, and I wasn't uncomfortable walking.

As I walked in the rain, it also ocurred to me that they've been keeping Mulder pretty well-watered on the X-Files this season. Retribution, I suppose, precipitated by Mr. Duchovny's comments about the weather in Vancouver.

I enjoyed Monday, Grounhog Day and Sliding Doors notwithstanding. And I'm glad that Dreamland was finally given a grounding in "reality" with the revelation that the water bed installed by Morris Fletcher hadn't "snapped back" with the rest of the "stuff." I was wondering tonight if Mulder thinks that Scully is the one who had the bed delivered. She does have a key to his place, and a sly sense of humor...

You know, it's a strange coincidence, but at the end of last season I wrote a short story in my paper journal where Scully had such a bed sent to Mulder's apartment, anonymously, as a joke, in retaliation for some cock-and-bull story he had made up about why he didn't have a bed. (The story also explained that "wedding ring thing:" Mulder had taken to wearing the ring as protection when he was the FBI's up-and-coming star and babe magnet, before he became widely known as "Spooky" Mulder and had to beg for dates.)

Well, we'll see how it all plays out. Maybe I'm psychic.

It was nice to see Darrin Burrows, "Ed" from Northern Exposure, again. Too bad he didn't have much of a part. But perhaps they can bring him back. And did anyone else notice that "Dana's Mom" (Sheila Larken) was in the Donald Sutherland movie playing up against The X-Files? And that she was also in Poltergeist: The Legacy this week? And--

Yeah, I'm avoiding. The fears are persistent, the dreams are disturbing, and while I'm not still in the stygian pits, I'm not feeling hopeful yet, either.


Early this morning, before I logged off, I checked my mail. My niece had forwarded chain mail. This is the text I sorted out between all the >>>>>>>>'s:

Subject: read alone and read it all especially the last part, please dont send back
Date: Thu, 14 Jan 1999 17:04:35 EST

If you do not pass this on, something as bad as these in the stories, or WORSE will happen to you. Take these three cases:

CASE 1: Kelly Sedey had one wish, for her boyfriend of three years, David Marsden, to propose to her. Then one day when she was out to lunch David proposed! She accepted, but then had to leave because she had a meeting in 20 min. When she got to her office, she noticed on her computer she had e-mail. She checked it, the usual stuff from her friends, but then she saw one that she had never gotten before. It was this letter. She simply deleted it without even reading it all. BIG MISTAKE! Later that evening, she received a phone call from the police. It was about DAVID! He had been in an accident with an 18 wheeler. He didn't survive. If she would've sent the letter to 10 people, David wouldn't have died.

CASE 2: Take Katie Robbenson. She received this letter and being the believer that she was, she sent it to a few of her friends but didn't have enough e-mail addresses to send out the full 10 that you must. Three days later, Katie went to a masquerade ball. Later that night when she left to get to her car to go home, she was killed on the spot by a hit-and-run drunk driver. If she would have sent it to the right amount of people, she would still be alive today.

CASE 3: Richard S. Willis sent this letter out within 45 minutes of reading it. Not even 4 hours later was walking along the street to his new job interveiw with a really big company, when he ran into Cynthia Bell, his secret love for 5 years. Cynthia came up to him and told him of her passionate crush on him that she had had on him for 2 years. Three days later, he proposed to her and they got married. Cynthia and Richard are Still married with three children, happy as ever!

This is the letter:

You must send this on in 3 hours after reading the letter to 10 different people. If you do this, you will receive unbeleveably good luck in love. The person that you are most attracted to will soon return your feelings. If you do not, bad luck will rear it's ugly head at you. THIS IS NOT A JOKE! You have read the warnings, seen the cases, and the consiquences. You MUST send this on or face dreadfuly bad luck.

*NOTE* The more people that you send this to, the better luck you will have.

P.S. I did not make this up, someone sent it to me and I am passing it on!

Around the corner I have a friend,
In this great city that has no end,
Yet the days go by and weeks rush on,
And before I know it, a year is gone.
And I never see my old friends face,
For life is a swift and terrible race,
He knows I like him just as well,
As in the days when I rang his bell.
And he rang mine
if, we were younger then,

=== message truncated ===

Typical chain mail. Naturally, being the sane, sensible person that I am, I laughed a bit at the folly of youth, hit the delete button consigning the letter to the trash, and logged off.

As I was getting ready for bed, however, I noticed that The Lump was back under my arm. Now, it doesn't matter that The Lump is one sensitive spot under my arm that, from time immemorial, has made its presence felt when it has been irritated by clothing. It doesn't matter that I know what it is and why. None of that matters because there's chain mail I didn't forward-- I was warned that something like this would happen!

As I lay in the dark, all I could think about was the story told to me a few weeks ago about the woman who thought the little lump under her arm was only an infected hair follicle, but it turned out to be cancer-- aaaaaarrrrrrrrgggggghhhhh!

Superstition is insidious. And this chain mail is of the worst kind, too. It promises safety and good fortune only to those who have ten friends. Persons with less than the requisite number (like me) are doomed-- and any friends you do have are at risk because of you if you fail!

It was a very bad night. I am ashamed to say it, but I dragged the letter out of the trash and sent it to the only two people I know who will understand why I caved. Of course, I know I'm still doomed... geez, did I remember to apologize to them in case they're doomed too? I don't remember.

If I live, though, if I'm not hit by a semi-- or WORSE-- I'm going to have to find suitable revenge to settle on my niece... something that will cure her of participating in chain mail... after all, I have a duty and a responsibility to make sure she doesn't turn out as mad as I am.

And, as for the rest of you who continue to participate in perpetuating such nasty superstitions;

WARNING! Bad things will happen to you if you forward chain mail! THIS IS NOT A JOKE!

Especially if you forward it to me. I guarantee it.

And Mulder thought he had a bad Monday. Ha! Well, got to go. I'm late for a meeting and I've got to stop at the bank-- tell me something, why doesn't Mulder have direct deposit?


I saw my neice the week after she sent me the chain mail, and I mentioned to her that she shouldn't forward chain mail-- especially to me. I didn't tell her that it made me crazy, of course; I just mentioned that chain mail is stupid and obnoxious. Of course, she forwarded another one to me a few days later. But, this time, I deleted it without pang or qualm. I then sent her an e-mail letting her know that she had incurred the wrath of the Chain Mail Avenger, and that if she didn't cease and desist, BAD THINGS WOULD HAPPEN. She's been warned! We'll see how seriously she takes it.

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