After the Spam filter had its way with all those messages, I had almost 10
emails leftover that actually required my attention. I glanced at the
NIGEREIAN FRIENDS folder and saw that it had over a thousand emails that
my computer, in its infinite wisdom, declared unworthy of my attention.
Out of curiosity, I examined the messages from that Spam folder.
A brief analysis showed that 123 women (50 of them apparently from around
here and pretty enough to be glamour models, though I didn’t recognize them)
were lonely and wanted to meet me tonight, and that many of them were
capable of activities that I suspect are biologically impossible.
An additional 320 desperate bankers and lawyers, from such countries as the
aforementioned Nigeria and also Serbia, Italy, and any number of Middle
Eastern nations, were ready to offer me a total of $157,000,000 if I would just
allow them to transfer a total of 1.5 billion dollars into my bank account.
Apparently, the pharmaceutical industry is also desperate for my attention as
well. If I responded to a mere fraction of the Viagra offers in my mailbox, Mrs.
Chef would padlock the door to the bedroom.
And when it comes to herbs and pills that will help men deal with those awful
feelings of inadequacy that apparently plague every human male on the planet, I
realized that, if the government actually pulled their head out of their collective
backsides long enough to assign the death penalty to convicted Spammers, it
would devastate the penis enlargement industry.
My least favorite Spam messages though, are the ones from my friends and
family. All too often I receive an email with a subject heading that uses the
words “urgent”, “important”, and “warning”, along with several exclamation
points and capital letters.
Inside this email, I will read a warning about a computer virus that will soon
infect my innocent PC, crawl out of the hard drive, drain my bank accounts,
brainwash my wife, and sell my children to cyber gypsies. Or a message might
have a heartwarming and poignant story about a little girl fighting a brave battle
with a deadly disease, and the best thing I can do to help little Susie Cupcakes
from coughing up a lung is to send this email to everyone I know.
The sad part is that if I were to follow the chain of people who pass these types
of messages on to the rest of us, I would find one decent human being after the
other, each desperately trying to keep the imaginary Susie from giving up the
ghost because some heartless idiot decided not to forward the email.
And then there is political Spam. Don’t even talk to me about political Spam.
I wish the people who actually read the misspelled garbage that illiterate pro-
war rednecks and tie-dyed hippy dropouts send to my computer would take
their collective political causes and jump in the lake.
Yet I have to acknowledge a grudging admiration for the authors of all these
different types of Spam emails, especially the ones trying to sell me stuff. After
all, how many different ways can a person spell a word before my spam filter
figures it out? Just a brief scan showed that the people who are selling fake
watches can spell Rolex as rolex, R0L3x, row-lex, ro-lecks, Rolix, and the
ever-popular “D0 y0u w4nt a R013x VV4tch f0r $30?”
To which I respond with, “N0, but y0u c4n k122 my 422 for fr33.”
emails leftover that actually required my attention. I glanced at the
NIGEREIAN FRIENDS folder and saw that it had over a thousand emails that
my computer, in its infinite wisdom, declared unworthy of my attention.
Out of curiosity, I examined the messages from that Spam folder.
A brief analysis showed that 123 women (50 of them apparently from around
here and pretty enough to be glamour models, though I didn’t recognize them)
were lonely and wanted to meet me tonight, and that many of them were
capable of activities that I suspect are biologically impossible.
An additional 320 desperate bankers and lawyers, from such countries as the
aforementioned Nigeria and also Serbia, Italy, and any number of Middle
Eastern nations, were ready to offer me a total of $157,000,000 if I would just
allow them to transfer a total of 1.5 billion dollars into my bank account.
Apparently, the pharmaceutical industry is also desperate for my attention as
well. If I responded to a mere fraction of the Viagra offers in my mailbox, Mrs.
Chef would padlock the door to the bedroom.
And when it comes to herbs and pills that will help men deal with those awful
feelings of inadequacy that apparently plague every human male on the planet, I
realized that, if the government actually pulled their head out of their collective
backsides long enough to assign the death penalty to convicted Spammers, it
would devastate the penis enlargement industry.
My least favorite Spam messages though, are the ones from my friends and
family. All too often I receive an email with a subject heading that uses the
words “urgent”, “important”, and “warning”, along with several exclamation
points and capital letters.
Inside this email, I will read a warning about a computer virus that will soon
infect my innocent PC, crawl out of the hard drive, drain my bank accounts,
brainwash my wife, and sell my children to cyber gypsies. Or a message might
have a heartwarming and poignant story about a little girl fighting a brave battle
with a deadly disease, and the best thing I can do to help little Susie Cupcakes
from coughing up a lung is to send this email to everyone I know.
The sad part is that if I were to follow the chain of people who pass these types
of messages on to the rest of us, I would find one decent human being after the
other, each desperately trying to keep the imaginary Susie from giving up the
ghost because some heartless idiot decided not to forward the email.
And then there is political Spam. Don’t even talk to me about political Spam.
I wish the people who actually read the misspelled garbage that illiterate pro-
war rednecks and tie-dyed hippy dropouts send to my computer would take
their collective political causes and jump in the lake.
Yet I have to acknowledge a grudging admiration for the authors of all these
different types of Spam emails, especially the ones trying to sell me stuff. After
all, how many different ways can a person spell a word before my spam filter
figures it out? Just a brief scan showed that the people who are selling fake
watches can spell Rolex as rolex, R0L3x, row-lex, ro-lecks, Rolix, and the
ever-popular “D0 y0u w4nt a R013x VV4tch f0r $30?”
To which I respond with, “N0, but y0u c4n k122 my 422 for fr33.”
When I come home from a long day at work, I
often set myself down in front of the computer for a
while. I like to surf the Web, watch the latest
YouTube video and scan my emails. When I do
this last bit, I am always astounded at the number of
complete strangers who have taken the time to try
to help me in my mundane livelihood by sending me
advice that will make me rich, healthy, and
transform me into a babe magnet.
I hardly ever look at the Spam mail, because my
email reader filters it out and places it in a folder
that I have labeled MY NIGERIAN FRIENDS.
The other day, before I downloaded my messages,
I had nearly 250 pieces of correspondence waiting
in my inbox.
often set myself down in front of the computer for a
while. I like to surf the Web, watch the latest
YouTube video and scan my emails. When I do
this last bit, I am always astounded at the number of
complete strangers who have taken the time to try
to help me in my mundane livelihood by sending me
advice that will make me rich, healthy, and
transform me into a babe magnet.
I hardly ever look at the Spam mail, because my
email reader filters it out and places it in a folder
that I have labeled MY NIGERIAN FRIENDS.
The other day, before I downloaded my messages,
I had nearly 250 pieces of correspondence waiting
in my inbox.
| Spam Smacker Casserole |
| Visit the Macho Blog |
| "You rock!" -Julie of Maine |
| Your ad here |
 | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  |
| For the man who cooks and the women that love him |
WHAT YOU NEED 1 32-ounce package of frozen hash browns 1 can of Spam, diced 2 cans of condensed cream of potato soup 16 ounces of sour cream 2 cups of shredded extra sharp cheddar cheese 1 1/2 cups of grated Parmesan cheese WHAT YOU DO 1. Set the oven to 375 (190 C). 2. Lightly grease a 9x13 baking dish. 3. In a bowl, mix the ingredients except for the Parmesan cheese. 4. Spread the glop into the greased baking pan. 5. Sprinkle the Parmesan across the top. 6. Bake for one hour, or until it is bubbling and slightly toasted. 7. Serve with cantaloupe or orange slices. |