The Spam Song
It's a tragic comment on my lack of a life that on opening my e-mail "in box", I find one, maybe two, kosher e-mails yet in my spam folder there are often half a dozen or more. Usually I ruthlessly dispatch them to the trash can and beyond, mentally brushing my hands together on a job well done.
But not this morning. Sure enough in my spam folder were six bright and shiny spamettes, enticing me to open them. My hand hovered over the delete key, flushing them down the mystic plug hole was all they deserved, but my hand was stayed .
In two of the spamettes, Olga and Tetyana expressed their joy at seeing me. Apparently they missed the message I left on 1.bestrugirls.r and were keen that I try again. I just wonder what their mothers would say if they knew their little darlings were talking to "dirty, old men"? Much as I'd like to point out to these Russian dolls that I haven't tried to contact them in the past, I won't be answering their pleas.
I'm pleased to say that the annoyingly urgent and insistent demands that I buy a year's supply of Viagra have now slowed to a trickle. Although "ekodo3200" and, I assume his neighbour, "oxyno8322" are still trying to tempt me with deep discounting on the stuff.
Occasionally a spamette will leap over my corporate firewall and sit, usually throbbing, in my "in box". Sometimes an innocent e-mail will get lost and find itself surrounded by sex 'n drugs 'n extremely poor English. Moving the poor e-mail to the proper "in box" puts me in mind of the Good Shepherd rescuing his lost sheep. Who would have thought you could have a religious experience in a spam folder?
And there they go: I've clicked on the "delete forever" button to be greeted by "Hooray, no more spam". An extremely misleading statement for as sure as eggs is eggs, Olga and a couple of her mates will try to chat me up tomorrow, and those good neighbours "ekodo" and "oxyno" will want to help out by giving me the staying power to take on all of Mother Russia.