Make happy reading time by enjoying some spam I received.
This even got through a corporate gmail account. The robots are getting good. I mean, this almost makes sense. Obviously, the person has never met me, as there is no person, but I’m going to pretend it’s an actual correspondance with a human here. Why? Because the Netflix instant play is being weird at the moment.
The Netflix recommendation algorithm seems to think I’m a sort of…self-important, avant-garde composer/artist type; the kind that writes a cheeky blog and keeps Heironymous Bosch prints in his bedroom, madly typing frivolous prose into the twilight hours, convinced he can make a great contribution to the arts, if only his mind wouldn’t devour itself with inane trivia before the larger theorums can manifest, his bodily body congealing into a smushy, hairy prison of hair just a bit more each year. But I’m only like 30% that stuff, so it’s cool.
I just had a Wonka bar and about half a 2-liter (in the American system of measurement, this is about 3 miles) of Mountain Dew. I’m also thinking about eating some Cheez-Its at some point pretty soon, so…yeah.
The spam is in bold type, my responses are in normal type.
Your photos on your page are really great looking of you you look HOTT
I make it a point not to look HOTT in any picture, no matter how many T’s you throw at me.
Let me share some of mine with you, just go on MSNMessengor
My names email@example.com add and send me a message there
because I dont use email that much
Ok great, I will totally do that right now. Please also accept my social security number as a token of our friendship.
I also noticed the typo in ‘MSN Messenger’ which is as good as a DNA sample, I say. You are surely human. I will lower my guard. Forgive me, as you can never be too careful these days.
I’ll be on all day, thanks and looking forward to meeting you
Also here is The Tax Poem
Ah, thanks. You are providing this at my request, apparently, so thank you. Fulfilling requests is very human of you.
At first I thought this was funny……then I realized the awful truth of it..
Yeah, like how we’ve got machines that do nothing but churn out endless terabytes of drivel into an endless void of binary data.
except what they borrow from the deformities or ill qualities of
I think you might have deleted a part of your sentence by mistake. But it sounds pretty serious, Madison.
Be sure to read all the way to the end.
Tax his land,
Tax his bed,
Tax the table
At which he’s fed.
STILL THINK THIS IS
You haven’t established a base-line with me, so your deductions of what I find humorous are irrelevant.
They said that he thought only of himself. Bah! What good are peasants
I can’t believe I’m friends with you. If you weren’t so great at fulfilling requests I wouldn’t even chat with you on the MSN Messengor on the Internet.
Not one of these taxes existed 100 years ago, and our nation was the most prosperous in the world. We had absolutely no national debt, had the largest
middleclass in the world, and Mom stayed home to raise the kids.
It was pretty neat, right? There really is nothing like slavery, theft and murder to jump-start an idea!
What in the hell happened? Can you spell ‘politicians?’
I’m not sure what happened. I don’t think I was even there. Yes I can.
And I still have to ‘press 1’ for English!?
Madison, let go of the button. you only have to tap it, not hold it down. How long have you been pressing it?
I hope this goes around THE USA at least 100 times!!! YOU can help it get there!!!
GO AHEAD – – – BE AN AMERICAN!!!
There’s some consolation in that. I am so happy tonight,
There really is some consolation in that. Consolation in the fact that almost all data is generated now by algorithms running on auto-pilot; that the distinctly human need to categorize and label and list and keep-records-of and archive and data-mine every facet of every real or imagined flurry of thought; that a communique like this is a byproduct of the collapsing global monetary economic system, and occupies more storage in a week than our entire collection of Earth literature; that finally, the other creatures of this planet may have a chance to evolve and succeed where we are now failing; there is consolation that this planet will purge the cancerous tumor of kaleidoscopic, ever-deepening horrors we have become as a species, consolation in knowing that once our footprint of bitter, poisonous hedonistic slurry is absent from Earth, another species will make better choices.
There is consolation in the realization that even though your politics and money will eventually destroy us all, that all of our art, music, the most abysmal recess of emotion that any person has felt, our elation, euphoria…even though they’re meaningless and frail against your cold greed and smug short-sightedness, that you’ll go with us. There is consolation in the knowledge that there is no darkness without light, and none of you can live without good people; they are the fuel for your machine.
Hills are like baby mountains.