Please. No more e-mail jokes. My mailbox is jammed; my time is consumed with important issues. I have work to do.

Why am I part of Bob’s new job description of company jokester? I am recipient of his, sometimes, twelve jokes in one day. He retired from the family business, but still goes into the office to “work.” He’s got the office thinking he is busy on the computer. And, so does Annie who must be bored to tears with her computer-based job. Her daily e-mails clog my cyber connections, as does cousin Terry’s whose only contacts with me over these past three years are jokes and funny pictures without one word of personal goings-on.

Okay, I have to admit I do enjoy clever pieces of humor. In fact, I print them out with the obscure hope of compiling a book of e-mail jokes. But, I’m not sure if that’s literary theft and besides, the jokes have probably hit millions of screens so everyone will beat me to the punch lines.

A recent e-mail survey popped up the other day. The questions reminded me of the old-time popularity books we kids hand-printed on steno pads.

What’s your favorite color?
Who has the nicest smile?
Where do you like to go on vacation?

The old popularity books were mundane at best and hopelessly time consuming, as was this most recent e-mail survey with questions like, If you were another person, would you be friends with you? (Huh?) What’s on your mouse pad? (Duh??) What is your favorite lunch meat? (Lunch meat???) Are these truly questions for normal people?

Suddenly, an epiphany zapped my funny bone. Create your own flashed in neon lights like a burning bush. (Not a political pun.) And so the story goes: I climbed to the mountaintop, chiseled out a survey, e-mailed it to my address book buddies and rested on the seventh day.

My e-mail buddies didn’t answer. What an uninspired lot of wanders. Too much work. One has to think and type in answers instead of simply clicking the forward button. Or, I scared the bejesus out of ‘em with unorthodox questions.

One completed form meandered back.

1. What is the largest wild animal that has been in your backyard within the past
three months?
Answer: Husband
2. What shade of black is your favorite?
Answer: Sleep
3. What is the greasiest Chinese food item you’ve eaten?
Answer: Skru Hyu fried duck
4. What is your cholesterol number?
Answer: In Manhattan, it’s 988-6300
5. How long have you been happily married?
Answer: Hap…? Hap…? Is this a trick question?
6. What do you like least about your feet?
Answer: They’re always in my mouth.
7. When was the last time you took a bubble bath?
Answer: When my case of beer exploded.
8. Who is your favorite cartoon character?
Answer: Does this refer to the marriage question?
9. Would you consider starting a new political party?
Answer: Any kind of party sounds great to me.
10. What is your favorite flower? Body of water? Dinosaur?
Answer: Children. Bath tub. Another marriage question?
11. Are you wasting productive time at work fooling around with this survey?
Answer: Is this an oxymoron?
12. What question would you add to this list?
Answer: Why did I do this?

I confide: the solo-responder was my sister. It’s been rumored our family is certifiable.

Of course, my survey had to end, as most e-mails do, with specific and often confusing forwarding directions to overcome end tag superstitions of side trips to Hell.

“For good luck and a windfall of cash, for my continued attention to your e-mails, and to end global warming, send the completed form back to me within two hours of receipt. Then forward it to at least 2 people that you like, 4 people you can’t stand, 7 people less than 4 feet tall with beards, 1 psychologist and 5 people who live within 23 miles of the town in which you grew up. Warning: if you don’t follow through, you will have no fortune, neither good nor bad. In fact, your future will be on shaky ground and global warming is on you.”

Many jokester e-mails end with a quick uplifting verse. It serves as an inspirational closing. I persevered: a nice touch with a thought-provoking, proverbial, old sage feel.

“May the luck of the Irish blow gently on your back ‘cause an upturned kilt reveals… tighty whities.”