Spamm'd

There is something to be said about perseverance.

It is one thing to receive email, and another to receive spam mail. Most of the emails from friends that I receive are either without a subject, or with subject lines not even a micron as exciting as the content.

Not so, with spam emails.

I get a regular supply of spam mails thanks to my yahoo account. Out of the 71 emails that I received today, about 50 was spam. Yahoo, in its inept best, assures me every time I delegate them to the trash can that my filter is alive and kicking, and deliver another bunch the very next day when the filters look the other way.

Spam has its cycles. There was a time when I was emailed by benevolent Nigerians, who wanted to give away their money to me. ( You beautiful creature with animal magnetism, you! -I congratulated myself on my charm which make people to give away money to me) I used to mostly delete these, and once in a while, when really bored with life, used to write back claiming that I am actually the love child of the person who had died ( that"s the good part - consistency - these guys always have someone kicking their bucket which triggers the money ) and demand to be paid the entire sum. Fully. In cash.

There are some who feel that I may have a need to be a bit more Yang, and would like to be a man. Those good souls, from Editor Bob - who emails me more than any of my friends or family - so much so that I am thinking of adding him as a friend in Orkut and Facebook - they are pretty consistent, one a day. From Phil, the emails arrive in a bunch once in a while, as if he is too lazy to put some effort into spamming me. These gentlemen assure me that one I have the blue pill or try to enlarge my that one part which is not part of the package that writes this blog, then all the women are gonna come. Literally. To me.

Then there is Carmen. She writes trying to pedal software from this or that online shop. Her ads are very vague, some can’t even be read. I often wonder about the poor child, imagine her to be in a sweat shopish place where she has to send as many spam emails as she can to earn a living. And the girl being ironic, in a heavy symbolic gesture, she reduces the font to a level where even an ant would need a magnifying glass to read what was on offer. Chris does not like a subject line; he tries to build suspense, mystery and drama. Me being the lazy bum, don’t even show any interest in the bait.

Honorable mention goes out to those poor souls who have names like Viswanathan Allen. I think of poor little Allen"s childhood, getting tortured on the playground, by fellow kids who seethe in rage as they cannot pronounce his name. Tough times, the childhoods.

And lastly, I spit on you, my name stealing doppelganger spammers! May your computer get virus infected and your cell phones get stolen! May cats scratch the expensive paint job off your cars and may birds shit on you on your way to a late meeting! And may your inbox get swamped by spam driving you to mental breakdown and ultimately a catatonic life!

Buahahaa!!!