If there is one thing that makes me want to scream when I’m on the internet, it is spam. Spam emails, spam blog comments and spam tweets were, along with their namesake, created as part of this century’s worst crimes against humanity.
Admittedly, they can be a source of amusement when the spammers get creative. Sometimes they’re highly amusing, like the spam email I got titled Two Chicks, One Stick. Also Little White Chicks Love Big Black Dicks, which always put me in mind of tiny barnyard birds crawling up Shaft’s arms.
There was another great one about “your lover do not admire to jazz with you because of your small member” that had my ex, Special K, laughing almost as hard as he did when we watched The Soup.As a side note, Special K loved reading the adventures of those intrepid souls who spend their time messing with Nigerian 419 scammers. So much, in fact, that I often encouraged him to do the same so we could possibly make a few bucks off the matter but he decided against it because he possesses no sense of adventure. But I forgive him because he sent me a picture of a garter snake he saw today on a walk.
The worst type of spammer is the Twitspammer. Emails can be diverted to the spam folder, blog comments can be moderated, but spam tweets come at you with no way to ignore them. Imagine standing on the train, minding your own and having a conversation with a friend, when some random asshole jumps between you and shouts “HEY MISS S YOU WANT TO MAKE $87683 AN HOUR JUST BY LOSING A BIT OF BELLY FAT EVERYDAY?” It’s even worse if they have a face that’s nothing but a picture of an egg.
The part about Twitspammers that really makes me explode is that the bots who shoot the spam at you do so via keywords, often at the worst time possible. I once tweeted about being depressed because my stepfather’s deathday was coming up and when I saw an @reply I was heartened because I thought it was a friend offering support. Instead it was “WANT TO WIN $500? SEND US YOUR BEST PIC OF YOUR DAD!” followed by “BEST ALL NATURAL HERBAL TREATMENT FOR DEPRESSION CLICK HERE.” I wish I could demonstrate to you exactly the effect that had on my mental state but I couldn’t find a good image for a person sobbing under the bed and gulping vodka like water.
I don’t want much, just for Twitter to track down each and every one of these asshats, round them up and fire them into the sun as a deterrent to others. Is that so wrong? Or difficult? Come on, now.
In some very sad news, Little Maki didn’t make it. He passed away last night after showing symptoms of an upper respiratory infection, and he took his last breath held in my hands. We knew this was a possibility because he was cold and wet when I found him but there’s always the hope. At the very least he was warm and safe when he died, which is more than many cats can say. We’ll miss him.