SPAM FICTION

This is a cryptic SPAM repository. I have found fragments of FICTION. I have found poetry. I have found secret messages. I have found divinity. I am whole because of the unrequested messages that fall into my inbox. Seek truth. Seek SPAM. But first tell me, why am I wasting my life?

The quoted texts are probably copyright. I recieved them as junk filler in SPAM email, inserted to distract the filters that would otherwise kill the message. Rarely does it work, so I shuffle through the SPAM box and look for gems. Texts are included as editorial exerpts. I editorialize, or otherwise try to interpret their meanings or derivations. Tell me, why am I wasting my life?

According to this gem I’ll have “better success” and be “wild-winged” if only I invest a mere two hundred thousand dollars RIGHT NOW! Something tells me that my SPAM-of the day investment advisor will be something like the passage below and disappear “completely in the fog.”

disappeared completely in the fog. And there was something in the fog.
Redrick walked behind him, and as soon as he stepped out of the shade, the

I Googled “Redrick” and came up shy of anything that might place him at the scene of this mysterious bank of mystery-laden foggy mystery: too bad. Which brings up a point. If you, dear reader, happen to have a clue at where these things are coming from, all the better. Leave a comment.

The SPAM says to me [sic]: “Just disolve half a pil under your tongue and get ready for action
in 15 minutes.” Call me silly, but adding the following quote where a TIMEFRAME is casually mentioned is not — exactly — an effective advertising strategy. C’mon, a millisecond?

and stood, in the same millisecond, at Jonathan’s shoulder. “It’s kind of
Benchmarks

SPAM aside, and call me an old fashioned writer if you will, but using metric terminology in either description or dialogue has always sounded off-kilter. No one actually uses those terms, and if they do they shouldn’t. I once, long ago when I was a wee tot in an elementary school assembly, had the opportunity to listen to Gordon Korman speak. Only one thing lurks in my mind when I read things like this: he, a Canadian, insisted that it sounds plain wrong to use the phrase “she centimetered her way along the floor” when you should say “she inched her way along the floor.” Just plain wrong.