The truth, and nothing but the truth.

I'm in a cranky mood.

Sure, you are probably a recipient of one. Or more than one. Sure, it's possible that you have even forwarded one yourself. And maybe; in the dark corners of the recesses of an evil mind in the middle of the night - maybe you've even made one up!

Yes, I'm talking about the tear-invoking, tragedy mirroring, goose-bump engendering emails describing a heinous evil, impending disaster or a plea for assistance in some way. You are compelled to forward it to every single person you know so that they too may escape calamity or send money to somewhere or do something out of compassion. Sometimes the communication is just too good to be true, or something that plays on our worst fears or greatest joys that MUST be sent on so that you can sleep at night. Yeah, I'm on a rant and you can probably discern that I was just sent one.

You know what I'm talking about don't you? One of the greatest parodies of these kinds of email is the sad story of the Burlap Boy:

I am a very sick boy little boy. My mother is typing this for me, because I can't. She is crying. "Don't cry, Mommy!" Mommy is always sad, but she says it's not my fault. I asked her if it was God's fault, but she didn't answer, and only started crying harder, so I don't ask her that anymore.

The reason she is so sad is that I'm so sick. I was born without a body. It doesn't hurt, except when I go to sleep. The doctors gave me an artificial body. My body is a burlap bag filled with leaves. The doctors said that was the best they could do on account of us having no money or insurance. I would like to have a body transplant, but we need more money.

Mommy doesn't work because she said employers don't hire crying people. I said, "Don't cry, Mommy," and she hugged my burlap body. Mommy always gives me hugs, even though she's allergic to burlap, and it chafes her real bad. I hope you will help me. You can help me if you forward this letter.

Dr. Johansen said if you forward this letter then Bill Gates would team up with AOL and do a survey with NASA. Then the astronauts will collect prayers from school children all over America and take them up to space so that the angels can hear them better. Then they will go to the Pope, and he will take up a collection in church and send the money to the doctors. The doctors could help me better then. Maybe one day I will be able to play baseball. Or maybe just use my lungs and heart, when the doctors make them. The doctors said that every time you forward this letter, the astronauts could take another prayer to the angels.

Please help me. Mommy is so sad, and I want a body. I don't want my leaves to rot before I turn 10.

If you don't forward this letter, that's OK. Mommy says you're a mean heartless person who doesn't care about a poor little boy with only a head. What kind of heartless person are you that you can't take a couple of measly minutes to forward this to all your friends so that they can feel guilt and shame for the rest of their day, and then maybe help a poor, bodiless nine-year-old boy?

Please help me. This is not very much fun. I try to be happy but it's hard. I wish I had a puppy. I wish I could hold a puppy. Thank You.

Billy 'Smiles' Evans

I'm thankful though that we have a place to turn to so that the email message can be verified. Where do you turn to when you need the truth? Snopes of course!

But, who Snopes Snopes?