Ball and Chain Letters

I just realized this is the perfect venue for me to vent my bilious frustration at those people who use emails to send inane, moronic chain letters. No matter what the subject, whether national jokes, Jews in peril, great heroic causes, one can safely say that 95% of chain letters are retarded. If you are a friend of mine who does this and you are reading this right now, you now know what I think. I hope it does not affect our friendship.
I got two today. One claims that the British are going to stop teaching the Holocaust at schools because it offends Muslims. Mr. Ex-Enchilada warned me about this one. He got it in Mexico. I got it from a source here. It is obviously making the rounds. There are no sources for this piece of news. Like manna from heaven, this news fell directly from the sky into the internet. If this is indeed true, I want to know the source, because it sounds like an utter fabrication. My instinct is that it is one of those internet legends for Jews and by Jews that, as far as I can tell, only serve the purpose of keeping Jews safely paranoid about everything.
The other letter was a link to an Israeli video with a rap song about the Holocaust. The sender was concerned that people would find it offensive. What was offensive was not that some Israeli rapper is rapping the story of the Shoah, which is fine by me; what is offensive is the tackiness, the bad taste, the sight of artsy modern dancers smeared in ashes contorting themselves, a woman violinist dressed in some hideous folk dance garb, the entire thing with the look and the sound and feel and maturity of a very bad junior high school production. That is what bottles the mind, as Will Ferrell would say in Blades of Glory.
My favorite internet legend involves a supposed letter written by Gabriel Garcia Marquez at a time when he was very sick. This letter sounded like it was written by a bored housewife who had read way too many Hallmark cards. In it Garcia Marquez told us to enjoy every sunset, smell every flower, look at every seagull. Only an alien from another planet would confuse this sentimental snot with anything that this man ever wrote. Only an idiot would actually believe that this man would stoop so low and write something so hideous. It made the Reader's Digest seem like Cervantes. But that didn't prevent people from forwarding it ad nauseam.
Don't get me started on the ones that threaten you with terrible luck if you don't forward them. You are lucky I don't own a submachine gun.