Even the most patient of individuals has to admit that e-mail access has gotten a little out of control. If you can access this column, you obviously receive more than your share of junk e-mails. When I returned from a five-day vacation without computer access, approximately 100 e-mails awaited me. Of those 100, ten had either a personal or other slight interest value for me. The rest was pure e-spam, e-crap, or e-junk. While I never respond to any of these undesirable messages (trying to remove yourself from a list gets you on even more lists), the spew just keeps on coming.

Using this column as a blanketed response, I would now like to answer all of these e-mails with as much honesty as possible:

To all the make money opportunity e-mailers, I don't believe in your sit-on-your-butt-and-make-$50,000-a-month scheme. If anything like that actually works, then you are stealing from the innocent and ignorant. You are a small time hustler. You are an Amway idiot. I have learned to live a decent life on very little money, and if I made $50,000 in a month, I could live on it nicely for two years. Leave me alone. You are a desperate slave to capitalism.

To mortgage brokers, I don't own a house. I have never owned a house. I may never own a house. I do not need a mortgage. I am so far from your demographic that I don't know what else to say except go away.

I am very comfortable with the size of my penis. I am comfortable with the size of my body. My breasts are fine. My teeth are the color they are supposed to be. You can stuff that freaky diet plan. The only reason I ever think about such things at all is because I have to delete your unwanted solicitations The size of my penis has nothing to do with whether I get laid or not, and even if I was that insecure with myself, I wouldn't trust anything presented in an e-mail form. When I eat right and exercise, I feel my best, so screw you and your massive penis. Stick it right in your ear, buddy.

Job opportunities, special benefits, insurance. Crap, crap, crap. I have a job as an independent contractor to drive a cab. I supply no benefits for myself, and I hold no insurance. I do not drug test myself. I do not have evaluations. I cannot be promoted. I get by, and nothing you offer interests me in the least. You are begging for mindless drones and their extra cash. I am not one of those, and I do not have any. Piss off.

Cancel your international driver's license, flunk your diploma opportunity, excommunicate your licensed religious leader plan. None of these proposals are real. I know who I am, and I know what I'm capable of. I don't need any more pieces of paper to pump my self worth. I was never that impressed by official documents in the first place.

Don't offer me drugs. I probably have better connections than you. I am a pothead and a drunk. Other things come my way on occasion, but I do quite well with what I already consume. Forget those pheromones, gag that GHB, eradicate your ecstasy. I am five hours away from the Mexican border, and trust me, I'll cross over to another country before I answer your e-mail.

And last but not least, you porn people need to lay off in a serious way. I have never responded to any porn query. I have never "accidentally" clicked on anything in your e-mail. I'm not interested in anything barely legal, young and slutty, or dirty and tight. All of my porn is on video. When I get tired of my favorite scenes, I get a few new selections. I don't want to see your doctored computer pictures. Incidentally, I find it extremely disturbing when I get one e-mail about getting a bigger penis and the next one is taunting me with little girls. If I liked little girls, wouldn't I need a smaller penis?

All right, I think that covers most of them. So there. I said it. I explained myself as succinctly as I could. You guys are going to leave me alone now, right?

Chris Jungle still likes those personal e-mails.