Stupid Bloody Tuesday

I am forever impressed by the ingenuity of spammers. Every time some one builds a better spam filter, the spammers sit around in that dank boiler room someplace in Nigeria or Nepal and craft a new and more clever approach to foil and fool the software.

I have collections of this stuff, lots of Dearly Beloved Get Rich Quick poems of a sort and probably just as much vaguely pornographic (and not so vaguely come to think of it) for every type of umm, chemical and mechanical aid to umm, well, y'know, yep, that's what I'm talkin' 'bout, Willis.

I have no idea how the anti-spam filter grabs all that it does but I am impressed with how well it works and enjoy every third or fourth day cleaning out those holding folders and vaporizing all of the salty and salacious detritus that has collected there.

But yesterday in a spam trawl and haul of a dozen or so messages in the net were these two gems, the first from a "john gaines" entitled "act sunup" with a simple, if cryptic, message "carryall for moonstruck What leads handbook sharecropper?" I know not what to say and that, as you well and truly know, is a rare occurrence.

Perhaps in answer or even in opposition, "moises bradshaw" penned this missive entitled, "sag lifesaver" offering, "upstream in eyeballs That underdog standby bedroom?"

Hell to the yeah! And no, I have no idea what either of them are talking about. Semolina Pilchard climbing up the Eiffel Tower can barely keep up with John and Moises. Three blind mice minus one, perhaps; more than you might ever know.

I think we can both be sure no matter what we guess the real products might be that both of these notes espouse we can never, ever, be one hundred percent sure but oh my, my, they are further proof the line between surreal and cereal grows finer by the minute and no matter what Little Nicole says, koo-koo-kaa-choo, indeed.
-bill kenny