From: "bbaylarry" <bbayla...@cfl.nospamrr.com>
 Subject: OTP:  Another Sad Story.
 Date: Thursday, June 13, 2002 4:37 PM

From today's e-mail bag.

Dear Reader,

My name is Billy Evans.  I am a very sick little
 boy.  My mother is typing this for me, because I
 can't.  She is crying.  The reason she is so sad is
 because I'm so sick.  I was born without a body.  It
 doesn't hurt, except when I try to breathe.

The doctors gave me an artificial body.  It 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 nobody hires crying
 people.  I said, "Don't cry, Mommy," and she hugged
 my burlap bag.

Mommy always gives me hugs, even though she's
 allergic to burlap and it makes her sneeze and
 chafes her real bad.  I hope you will help me.  You
 can help me if you forward this e-mail to everyone
 you know.  Forward it to people you don't know, too.

Dr. Johansen said that for every person you forward
 this email to, Bill Gates will team up with AOL and
 send a nickel to NASA.  With that funding, NASA will
 collect prayers from school children all over America
 and have the astronauts take them up into space so that
 the angels can hear them better.

Then they will come back to earth and go to the
 Pope, and he will take up a collection in church and
 send all the money to the doctors.  The doctors
 could help me get better then.  Maybe one day I will
 be able to play baseball. Right now I can only be
 third base.

Every time you forward this letter, the astronauts
 can take more prayers to the angels and my dream
 will be closer to coming true.

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 email, that's okay.  Mommy
 says you're a mean and heartless bastard who doesn't
 care about a poor little boy with only a head.

She says that if you don't stew in the raw pit of
 your own guilt-ridden stomach, she hopes you die a
 long slow, horrible death and then burn forever in
 hell.  What kind of cruel person are you that you
 can't take five freakin' minutes to forward this to
 all your friends so that they can feel guilt and
 shame about ignoring a poor, bodiless nine-year-old
 boy?

Please help me.  I try to be happy, but it's hard.

I wish I had a kitty.  I wish I could hold a kitty.
 I wish I could hold a kitty that wouldn't chew on me
 and try to bury its turds in the leaves of my burlap
 body. I wish that very much.

Thank You, Billy "Smiles" Evans

P.S. You can send the money directly to the person who
sent
 you this because that person is very trustworthy :)

And we thought we had it rough.  Maybe we could get him a
 Noni skin or an Emu hide body.  Maybe we could trap a
few
 Nauga's and use their hides.

Be well,
Larry

I found one of the banters when we had spammers in here
pushing everything from emu oil to noni juice. Several
members have a way with spammers and Larry's post about
the naugha's had me spewing Pepsi on my monitor.
Doesn't seem as funny now somehow but I loved Dr.
Susan's chipping in at the end. She is a real
practicing RD that used to frequent the group until her
husband's bicycling accident.

http://tinyurl.com/a49yk

Anyone else have a favorite Larry story?
Duckie

Duckie, this is the one I always think of when Larry is mentioned.  I could
just see it happening!
Gwen

How wonderful to have a bit of Larry back.  Sure do miss him.  I really
love the bodiless head and burlap bag story.

Happy 4th.

Lyn

Thanks Duckie and Firechief,,,,,,  We slowly watched a proud, very smart man
loose his life to RA.   It is very proper to think of our Larry on the 4th
of July.  He was a retired service man and loved his country and what it
stood for and would battle anyone that wanted to speak poorly of it.   I
learned a great deal from what he lived with and what he did for it to keep
going,,,, to do it his way just one more day  and through it all we remember
his humor even though his last years were very painful.   ASA is a state of
mind and he understood that with his bar, hot tub and such.  He could see
the humor in the world around him and help us to see it too while living in
more pain than most.
   His best efforts were to brush aside the walls people put up in fear and
make them see what was best for them with what they had and what they could
do for it.
Yes,   I miss Larry and Cush and LadyA and Kitty.  Oh,,, I got an email from
Cush the other day and he sent me a picture of his son in the
service(Marine) and wished me a happy 4th and I was suppose to wish you all
a happy 4th from him.  I do that and from myself.
Harv

From Larry:

Have you noticed anything fishy about the inspection teams who have arrived
in Iraq?  They're all men!

How in the name of the United Nations does anyone expect men to find
Saddam's stash?  We all know that men have a blind spot when it comes to
finding things.  For crying' out loud!  Men can't find the dirty clothes
hamper.  Men can't find the jar of jelly until it falls out of the cupboard
and splatters on the floor....  and these are the people we have sent into
Iraq to search for hidden weapons of mass destruction?

I keep wondering why groups of mothers weren't sent in.

Mothers can sniff out secrets quicker than a drug dog can find a gram of
dope.  Mothers can find gin bottles that dads have stashed in the attic
beneath the rafters.  They can sniff out a diary two rooms and one floor
away.  They can tell when the lid of a cookie jar has been disturbed and
notice when a quarter inch slice has been shaved off a chocolate cake.  A
mother can smell alcohol on your breath before you get your key in the front
door and can smell cigarette smoke from a block away.  By examining laundry,
a mother knows more about their kids than Sherlock Holmes.  And if a mother
wants an answer to question, she can read an offender's eyes quicker than a
homicide detective.

So...  considering the value a mother could bring to an inspection team, why
are we sending a bunch of men who will rely on electronic equipment to scout
out hidden threats?

My mother would walk in with a wooden soup spoon in one hand, grab Saddam by
the ear, give it a good twist and snap, "Young man, do you have any weapons
of mass destruction?" And if he tried to lie to her, she'd march him down
the street to some secret bunker and shove his nose into a nuclear bomb and
say, "Uh, huh, and what do you call this, mister?" Whap!  Thump!  Whap!
Whap!  Whap!  And she'd lay some stripes across his bottom with that soup
spoon, then march him home in front of the whole of Baghdad.  He'd not only
come clean and apologize for lying about it, he'd cut every lawn in Baghdad
for free for the whole damn summer.

Inspectors! You want the job done?  Call my mother.