"I refuse to this day to do e-mail because everybody I know that does it, it takes another two or three hours a day. I don't want to give two or three more hours away"
About this Quote
Foxworthy’s refusal to “do e-mail” isn’t really about technology; it’s about refusing the quiet theft of time that arrives disguised as convenience. The line lands because he frames e-mail not as a tool but as a lifestyle subscription: sign up and you’ll “give” away “two or three hours” daily, no refunds. That word choice matters. He doesn’t say “spend” time, as if it’s an intentional purchase. He says “give,” as if time is being donated to an invisible, needy machine.
The joke’s power comes from its slightly exaggerated plainness. Foxworthy has always played the guy who says the unsayable in the simplest words, and here he turns a modern anxiety into kitchen-table arithmetic. Everyone recognizes the trap: e-mail multiplies obligations by making access frictionless. The inbox never fills up; it reproduces. By refusing it “to this day,” he casts himself as a stubborn holdout, which is funny because it’s both admirable and vaguely impossible. The audience gets to laugh at his Luddite posture while privately envying the boundary.
Contextually, it reads like early digital-era skepticism before “attention economy” became a term. Foxworthy is diagnosing the same problem we now associate with Slack, notifications, and doomscrolling: the workday’s creep into the rest of life. Under the humor is a small act of resistance, a claim that time belongs to the person living it, not the systems demanding replies.
The joke’s power comes from its slightly exaggerated plainness. Foxworthy has always played the guy who says the unsayable in the simplest words, and here he turns a modern anxiety into kitchen-table arithmetic. Everyone recognizes the trap: e-mail multiplies obligations by making access frictionless. The inbox never fills up; it reproduces. By refusing it “to this day,” he casts himself as a stubborn holdout, which is funny because it’s both admirable and vaguely impossible. The audience gets to laugh at his Luddite posture while privately envying the boundary.
Contextually, it reads like early digital-era skepticism before “attention economy” became a term. Foxworthy is diagnosing the same problem we now associate with Slack, notifications, and doomscrolling: the workday’s creep into the rest of life. Under the humor is a small act of resistance, a claim that time belongs to the person living it, not the systems demanding replies.
Quote Details
| Topic | Work-Life Balance |
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