(no subject)
All Your Inbox Space Are Belong to Us
I get a ton of spam e-mail. Frankly, if I replied to every one I got, I could lasso a giraffe with my dick, reel it in like a marlin and sedate it with several kilos’ worth of quality, pharmacy-grade sedatives. This could be adaptive if I lived on the savannah, where wandering, hostile giraffes might pose a problem, or maybe just be good eating, but I imagine that in LA, I’d just have to keep it wrapped up like a garden hose, and where’s the fun in that?
But recently I’ve been getting this one particular type of spam in my Outlook inbox. I’ve been saving them because they’re so funny. To bypass filters, the spammers are now creating an image in the file with whatever advertisement they want to show me, and then filling the e-mail with nonsense quotes and aphorisms, rife with the de rigueur spelling errors and sent with a name created from a jumble of random words.
Imagine my surprise one morning when my old friend, Nugget R. Impecunious, decided to drop me a line.
“Bunos Dias!!!!” he exclaimed enthusiastically, entreating me to read on.
Of course, because Outlook auto-opens anything that is selected, the contents were immediately exposed. Enclosed was a picture of quite possibly the ugliest, wrinkliest, horniest housewives selected from the most hideous pockets of society, in various states of mid-orgasm face, with a title bar claiming “How to Have the Greatest Sex Humanly Possible?”
Yes, it was a question. Even they are not so sure it is the greatest, apparently. Clearly with these women, the reader is intended to be settling a bit. One woman especially looks like something that climbed back up the throat of the desiccated corpse of Rodney Dangerfield. One has got this sort of agonized lip-biting thing going on, and another’s eyes are sort of going walleye. It’s hot, if you’re a pike.
Next to a big number one, it claims to divulge “the secrets that give physically unattractive men a huge advantage over hunks.” Wait, so am I the physically unattractive guy? I don’t think that’s a solid marketing strategy. For a guy named Nugget, he sure is making a bunch of judgments. I sort of hope there’s a sequel to this list. “Even lowly sub-creatures like you, you fat beast, can show THIS woman a good time!” it’d read.
“All you need is some elastic cord and industrial-strength ether (which you can purchase from our sister site)!!!!!”
Number two boasts that it knows the secret sex-tapes that women are “literally devouring in private!” Wait, literally? So, what, they’re eating them? Is all that vinyl an aphrodisiac? I could only imagine how that would come out the other end. No wonder they’re devouring them in private.
And number three, well, frankly it says it can help a man find the (anatomically-hidden!) G-spot in a woman, which she often never discovers herself. As I understand it, though, isn’t it the vag? Like, that’s just one big G-spot. I guess it’s really the V-spot. And I don’t think any man, poking and stabbing about in there, would have any better chance of finding a secret one than would a fat toddler in a bib trying to swat at a fly with his little hamfists.
The email concludes with several choice maxims, also funny because they are quite possibly the worst quotes ever.
“An argument is like a country road, you never know where it is going to lead.”
This is the sort of simile you’d find in an apology card hand-written by a second-grader, or perhaps in the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest.
Here are a few more of my favorites:
“Humility is like underwear: essential, but indecent if it shows.”
“The healthy stomach is nothing if it is not conservative: few radicals have good digestions.”
It's a surprise Hallmark hasn't made any of these into inspirational posters.
Needless to say, I disregarded this e-mail. I’m not interested in whatever crazy Four-H sleepovers these women are having in the abandoned barn down the road. Perhaps my computer-generated friend Nugget isn’t so bright, after all.
But I think I offended someone on the other end! They must know I’m not reading these things, because the next day I got an email from one Puny P. Unfit, and it said the same thing, except instead of quotes, it cursed me in Romanian. I can read between the lines and see what those four Medusas are implying.
Well, I guess I will no longer be buying my C!aLi5 and \/1_agRa from them.
I get a ton of spam e-mail. Frankly, if I replied to every one I got, I could lasso a giraffe with my dick, reel it in like a marlin and sedate it with several kilos’ worth of quality, pharmacy-grade sedatives. This could be adaptive if I lived on the savannah, where wandering, hostile giraffes might pose a problem, or maybe just be good eating, but I imagine that in LA, I’d just have to keep it wrapped up like a garden hose, and where’s the fun in that?
But recently I’ve been getting this one particular type of spam in my Outlook inbox. I’ve been saving them because they’re so funny. To bypass filters, the spammers are now creating an image in the file with whatever advertisement they want to show me, and then filling the e-mail with nonsense quotes and aphorisms, rife with the de rigueur spelling errors and sent with a name created from a jumble of random words.
Imagine my surprise one morning when my old friend, Nugget R. Impecunious, decided to drop me a line.
“Bunos Dias!!!!” he exclaimed enthusiastically, entreating me to read on.
Of course, because Outlook auto-opens anything that is selected, the contents were immediately exposed. Enclosed was a picture of quite possibly the ugliest, wrinkliest, horniest housewives selected from the most hideous pockets of society, in various states of mid-orgasm face, with a title bar claiming “How to Have the Greatest Sex Humanly Possible?”
Yes, it was a question. Even they are not so sure it is the greatest, apparently. Clearly with these women, the reader is intended to be settling a bit. One woman especially looks like something that climbed back up the throat of the desiccated corpse of Rodney Dangerfield. One has got this sort of agonized lip-biting thing going on, and another’s eyes are sort of going walleye. It’s hot, if you’re a pike.
Next to a big number one, it claims to divulge “the secrets that give physically unattractive men a huge advantage over hunks.” Wait, so am I the physically unattractive guy? I don’t think that’s a solid marketing strategy. For a guy named Nugget, he sure is making a bunch of judgments. I sort of hope there’s a sequel to this list. “Even lowly sub-creatures like you, you fat beast, can show THIS woman a good time!” it’d read.
“All you need is some elastic cord and industrial-strength ether (which you can purchase from our sister site)!!!!!”
Number two boasts that it knows the secret sex-tapes that women are “literally devouring in private!” Wait, literally? So, what, they’re eating them? Is all that vinyl an aphrodisiac? I could only imagine how that would come out the other end. No wonder they’re devouring them in private.
And number three, well, frankly it says it can help a man find the (anatomically-hidden!) G-spot in a woman, which she often never discovers herself. As I understand it, though, isn’t it the vag? Like, that’s just one big G-spot. I guess it’s really the V-spot. And I don’t think any man, poking and stabbing about in there, would have any better chance of finding a secret one than would a fat toddler in a bib trying to swat at a fly with his little hamfists.
The email concludes with several choice maxims, also funny because they are quite possibly the worst quotes ever.
“An argument is like a country road, you never know where it is going to lead.”
This is the sort of simile you’d find in an apology card hand-written by a second-grader, or perhaps in the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest.
Here are a few more of my favorites:
“Humility is like underwear: essential, but indecent if it shows.”
“The healthy stomach is nothing if it is not conservative: few radicals have good digestions.”
It's a surprise Hallmark hasn't made any of these into inspirational posters.
Needless to say, I disregarded this e-mail. I’m not interested in whatever crazy Four-H sleepovers these women are having in the abandoned barn down the road. Perhaps my computer-generated friend Nugget isn’t so bright, after all.
But I think I offended someone on the other end! They must know I’m not reading these things, because the next day I got an email from one Puny P. Unfit, and it said the same thing, except instead of quotes, it cursed me in Romanian. I can read between the lines and see what those four Medusas are implying.
Well, I guess I will no longer be buying my C!aLi5 and \/1_agRa from them.