We all know about spam. We’re all fed up with the constant deluge of crap in our inboxes. But recently, I seem to have passed a significant threshold. Over half the email messages I now get, on my work email, my Gmail and, of course, my ageing and increasingly Viagra-sodden Hotmail account, are now unsolicited crap.
For every email I receive from a friend or colleague I receive another one or two from random hijacked email accounts trying to sell me online dating, prescription medication, bodily enhancements, fake Rolex watches, ink cartridges and all manner of adult entertainment sites. And that’s before we even mention the lottery notifications or the Nigerian regulars.
Spam is now reality
According to my inbox, there is now more spam than reality. How did that happen? Spam is now more real than real email. The real communications of my life are disappearing from view under a sea of spam.
I foresee the birth of new world, Second Life-style in which our ‘real’ existence is usurped by growing hordes of timeshare salesmen and share tipsters. Every street corner is a pharmacy and old men never see a reason to leave the bedroom, much to the bemusement of their wives.
All the women (and most of the men) are unbelievably well-endowed, yet have notoriously inaccurate wristwatches which give them nasty rashes.
Everyone is incredibly rich; some through Dutch lottery winnings and some through minding the funds of various African dignitaries killed in a spate of tragic air crashes.
And the girl next door?
What do you think? She wants me. Who wouldn’t? After all, I am a man whose inkjet printer will never, ever run out of ink.
Spam is very annoying, but deleting
it is easy enough. What keeps me up at night is the fear that my
network and identity could again be hijacked. I spend most of my waking hours sweeping for invasive malaware that might again shanghai
Your pictures are great. Pretty
True enough, Roberto.
And the identity/network thing? I’m a Mac user, so a little less worried about that kind of stuff than some. But still a worry – you’re right.
And the ‘pretty lady’? Do you mean this picture? To be honest, it was the headline that appealled to our schoolboy toilet humour, not the picture.