People who need to have the Internet taken away from them, Chap. LXXXVII

Consulting my calendar, I am reassured that we *are*, in fact, in the year 2006. By which time, I would have assumed, everyone with an e-mail account would have some minimal grasp of that arcane and mystic entity, The Listserv.

In which assumption I would be oh, so very wrong.

When I left work yesterday I had (*counting*) 17 messages littering my inbox, triggered by someone who mistakenly posted a class-reservation request to a listserv for people who work with the registrar database. Taken in sum, these messages represent a veritable cascade of The Stupid -- "I don't have anything to do with reservations!" "Why are you all sending me this?" "Please take me off this mailing list!"

But this morning brought the capper: someone who posted a message to the list (with an enormous gif-riddled two-inch-high sig block) saying, and I quote, "Some how all the emails I will now forward, came to me by error. How you can fix your listserv accordingly. Thank you." And, just as promised, this individual then forwarded ALL SEVENTEEN message back to the listserv.

I figure any day that begins this way can only get better.