"When we finally decide that drug prohibition has been no more successful than alcohol prohibition, the drug dealers will disappear." ~ Ron Paul
No One Knows the Spam I've Seen
Two questions: Who sends this crap and how do we get Ashcroft off his ass to stop it? While I may not believe in most forms of censorship, it would be nice to have the ability to resend the e-mail spam and badly spelled porno blasts back to the morons who sent it, with a double dose of their own dreck. Remember when we were naive enough to think we could simply reply to Heather the porno girl or firstname.lastname@example.org selling "vibagra" and tell them either to stop bothering us or--in Heather's case--to leave their personal phone number?
I have two e-mail addresses, and each of them is set at the highest bulk mail filtering level, but if I don't delete hundreds of "Mohammedan U. Syncheds" or his fellow spamster, "Clinchers K. Nitroglycerin," I am overwhelmed within 48 hours with offers for a "A neat gabbroic macular"--whatever that is--until my limited capacity is full.
Is it only me, with my limited computer knowledge, that gets this wacky, internet stuff? Offers for porn sites, penis enlargement, low cost auto insurance and products like "Humaan Growth Hoormone Pro Formula" from some fictitious person named Caryl Marylyn. What is she trying to sell me, and why would I buy growth hormone from someone with such bad spelling? Imagine if the formula was as precisely measured as the vowels in those words.
Even Charles Dickens couldn't invent such spam names; I have to give them credit for that. Debugger O. Revives informs me, "This guy always geets thhe girl, Jowrrd." I wonder if Mr. Revives is some sort of stuttering Speedy Gonzales, the Mexican cartoon mouse now banned in America? Likewise, Accuser R. Stump beckons me to consider, "Dating 101--learn to date grreat girls." No dice, Accuser: Your name conjures images of Hannibal Lechter, a guy who knew a thing or two about dating grreat (sic) girls--especially the ate part.
Meanwhile, both Embalmers A. Heavenward and Materially V. Ferber--I kid you not--invited me to "Read: 800 world's best software--90% savings." Most internet junk mail entices you to use your credit card to get hard; here was something offering 800 ways to get soft. Also I wondered what sort of mother would name her child Embalmers?
What should we make of those strangers who write us e-mails without bothering to add a message? Here is email@example.com sending me an e-mail with no subject. What does she expect me to do with that? How do I know that "Mary Alice Moresi" doesn't work for Mossad? She could be inviting me for a wild weekend in Bimini, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up in Israel, staring at blank walls for the next 18 years, like Braveheart Vanunu (now that's a name).
Don't go there, we have all been warned! Don't accept rides from strangers and don't open e-mails from "Evildoers." Our fearless leaders--Bush, Rice, Cheney, Rumsfeld--should all carry such foreboding names as the spamster "doomsdaylocknut6118k" and the equally ominous "Clinchers K. Nitroglycerin."
You learn quickly on the computer. After you've unleashed a few viruses into a friend's computer, you learn not to open anything with an attachment or any email from someone with the last name of Nitroglycerin. Still, I do not know what-the-hell a MAILER-DAEMON is, but the message is always scary and has nothing to do with any message I've ever sent, although it claims I have. I think of MAILER-DAEMON as a message from the government--much like Big Brother announcing his presence suddenly on those telescreens in 1984--and now.
Finally, even if the email sales approach is seductive or mysterious, warning bells now blare like a smoke alarm situated directly above burning bacon. Today I received a personal email, "Message From Morgan," along with 40-50 other E-notes. I immediately realized the only Morgans I knew were Morgan, the legendary pirate, and of course that other historical pirate, JP Morgan.
So I deleted the obvious porno or herbal viagra message from Morgan. Who knows--she might have been from Mossad.