Signs of a Stoke

This was the subject line in an email that my father forwarded to me. Normally, I don't read the forwards my father sends. Before my email has fully loaded and it says (44) next to the inbox label I spend a moment thinking "I am so popular! I can't believe I have 44 emails!" Until the application fully loads and I notice that the majority of emails are forwards from my dad. I've tried to tell him that I hate and never read his forwards because who has that much time? If I have extra time I'm going to go read blogs! But his response was to tell me I missed really good ones and make me sit down to read them on his computer. It doesn't help that the forwards are religious, tell me that liberals are awful (except me he assures me) and we should all tote guns, tell an occasional humerous story or that I am special in some manner and should forward the message to the next 10 people I really, really like. The 10 people I really, really like would tell me "What the crap is this forward crap about!" because they also have jobs and lives and we have moved past liking forwards. Maybe that is what I should keep in mind - my father has only owned a computer for a couple of years and he is still intrigued by how quickly information can be generated. I just wonder how long I have to wait until I stop getting all of the forwards. What I would really like is a real message that he wrote himself. Even if it is three lines long it would be 72 times better than a forward. Until then I will have to amuse myself with misspelled forwards.