Yeah, so we all get spam and it’s like fodder for like Dave Barry and Maureen Dowd and whatever so it’s not very interesting to read about. But anyhow, it’s Hump Day and I’m feeling like the Willy Loman of the blog world lately so here goes.
I’ve been getting a lot of spam lately (as we all have I’m certain) from “women” with no last names. And they’ve all got these incredibly intriguing first names. At first the names seemed a bit like they could belong to my grandma’s canasta club (adele, dolores, franny) but then they started sounding like hookers (brooke, angelica, latisha) and then like circus performers (loretta, violetta, ursula, adalia) and most recently like pottery/fiber arts majors (anneka, leila, felicity).
I’m not sure where I was going with this. I guess I know that the messages–indeed, the names themselves–are generated by a computer somewhere. The server that shoots them out is sexless. But in my fantasy world, I see the glamorous women behind these names–all ages, races, eras–in this large computer bank room that vaguely resembles a bingo hall. I envision them fanning themselves with the psalms on sticks they hand out in church in the summertime, chatting lazily between email batches, sharing lipsticks, comparing tattoos or pictures of grandchildren, giggling at the shift foreman’s comb-over. Smoking long white cigarettes and drinking grape Nehis. Then, when the whistle sounds, they all get up and collect their belongings and hustle out to the parking lot to be picked up by their husbands or to head down to the roadhouse and pump the jukebox full of Patsy Cline. They do this every night.
Stroke me.
