. . .

Possible Reasons I Haven't Gotten Many Emails Recently

a) You didn't get my last message.

b) You felt that I am an ignorant worm only worth your contempt.

c) You felt that you are an ignorant worm only worth my contempt.

d) You were lazy.

e) Aliens ate your aardvark, and you had to observe the traditional 2 week mourning period, during which it is forbidden to stick out your tongue, eat sheep's liver, or send email.

f) You suddenly realized that you'd never held the "Nixon is dead!" party you had been planning, and the preparations for that were more important than work.

g) Your computer spontaneously turned into a mime and wandered off to seek a living in Paris.

h) The new Wierd Al CD came out, and you achieved satori while listening to it, and only now decided to return to your physical form to work miracles and spread enlightenment among the masses.

i) You caught a rare type of Tourette's syndrome that, instead of adding curses to your everyday speech, adds them to the things you type, and it took you this long to overcome your embarassment enough to send email.

j) You've been replaced by a Pod Person.

k) You've decided to becomed a roadie for the Spice Girls.

l) You've changed your name to "Annis Dey, Invader of Truth", and will only respond to messages referring to you as such.

m) You unexpectedly caught a bad case of death. Luckily, it's clearing up, and you should be back to work within a week or so.

n) You got involved in a relationship with an attractive member of your own gender, and you aren't sure how I feel about such things.

o) You got involved in a relationship with an attractive member of the opposite gender, and you aren't sure how I feel about such things.

p) You have real work to do. (Honestly! Your work is more important to you than the vast amusement I provide! Not to mention the fact that my emails cure cancer, promote good health in general, and extend lifespans! Your work is still more critical!)

q) You've retreated into a world of your own devising, where the Apocalypse has come, and you are the single remaining human on the planet, so there isn't any point to checking your email, 'cause the only thing you'll get is automated spam.

r) You have been mesmerized by an immoral hypnotist, who will keep you as their personal slave until you are rescued by the superhero, Looniman! (Sometimes disguised as Alloni Kramer, a mild-mannered webmonkey for a small consulting company, a fact which you are unaware of. You are, in fact, in love with Looniman, a fact which you share with your close friend, Alloni Kramer. He knows that to tell you the truth would be to reveal his secret identity to the world, and so he keeps quiet, with difficulty. You did, in fact, discover the secret once, and he gave up his powers for you, but had to take them back to fight an Earth-threatening menace from his home planet, so he removed the memory from you with a power he's never shown before or since, despite the fact that there are many times it would have come in handy.)

s) You've taken an experimental serum that has given _you_ vast superheroic powers (what is it with me and superheroes today?), but at the same time given you a weakness to the kind of grammar- and logic-twisting sentences I am prone to using. I will inevitably discover this weakness, as you will no longer be able to communicate with me, and, consumed by hatred (because you, um, I don't know, accidentally killed my dog. I don't have a dog. Well, you gave it to me, then accidentally killed it.), become your arch-enemy.

t) All this time you really hated me, and you only kept in communication with me long enough to get my home address, which you have given to a crack team of asassins with orders to terminate me. Soon, however, you will find out that I've evaded your asassins, (because this is a romantic comedy, of course, I'll evade them by luck, coincidence, and a couple of skills that no one expected me to have), and you'll get back in communication with me to lull my suspicions. (As this _is_ a romantic comedy, however, you'll either fall in love with me, unbeknownst to yourself, or you'll push me into the arms of an attractive female that you're hunting for other reasons. I can only come out ahead, if this is a romantic comedy. I hope I hope.)

u) You are actually a sophisticated artificial lifeform, and your battery went dead. (If this is so, hopefully your creator checks on you and changes your batteries now and again.)

v) You suffer from blackouts, after which you always awaken in an unexpected place, and get reports that you've been doing various out-of-character-and-extremely-bizarre things, and that you've been responding only to the name "Fred". (If this is true, let me know. I threw one of my personality fragments named Fred out the window while speeding down the freeway some time ago. He may be doing this to get revenge on me through you. Don't panic, and I'll call an exorcist and a psychiatrist.)

w) You've been composing the Great American Novel, a task that, for your vast intellect, requires only 3 hours of isolation and peace. Unfortunately, you keep getting interrupted at 2 hours and 55 minutes, and the whole thing is ruined, and you have to start again.

x) You found a book titled The Neverending Story, with the insignia of two intertwining snakes, one gold, one silver, on the cover. You assumed it was simply an exquisitely bound copy of the original Michael Ende book, as opposed to the inspiration for his book.

y) You woke up one morning with a total personality change. You cut all ties with your previous life, changed your address, and took up needlepoint.

z) Your computer crashed, you were fired, and you were kicked out of your place of residence, all on the same day. You felt resourceful, however, and insteadd of being reduced to prostitution or begging, you decided to become a porn _director_. You've been involved in making pornography with taste, class, and a real plot, and being the only female in the biz, are making a major name for yourself. You singlehandedly will cause the profession to rise from its roots of shame and disrespect into something people can be proud to be involved in. As a side effect, the position of prostitute will start getting the respect of the psychiatrists, and the world will enter a new golden age as a direct result of _that_. Unfortunately, all your operating funds are tied up at the moment on that, and you still haven't bought a new computer.

-or-

1) All of the above.