lickety jackblog

For months and months now, I've been receiving the same spam emails to my gmail account, each with a different, usually interesting sender name (Melda Latanya, Israel Mcintosh). The email invariably contains a dozen or so gif files, each of which is a small cut-out of the same larger document concerning stock options for sale of Yahoo stock. All of the emails (out of the roughly 700 I've received in the past months) contain these gif files, which are differently sized and shaped in each email, and all the gif files are cutouts of the same document. My spam filter catches most of them, but one or two get through every day. No big deal.

Lately, however, the emails have changed format slightly. Now, before the list of gifs begins, there is a half-page body of text, which from what I can gather is a series of sentences taken from old novels and strung together haphazardly so as to create a bizarre sort of dadaist literature. Are other people getting these emails? I'm just a little bit embarrassed to admit that I've started to collect them, they're that interesting. As an example, I received an email the other day from one Gil Allen, subject "Shudder Brilliant." The perfunctory gif files were labeled as follows: scurrilous.gif, punctuality.gif, chuck.gif, which.gif, fatally.gif and dwindling.gif. The body of the text reads:

"Reverently they lowered the body to the ground, whilst the inspector conducted a brief examination. Wont you stay and keep me, company at dinner, Mr Martin? But dont wait for me; I have a cab at the door. Whilst the stout man watched admiringly, he removed the whole pane and drew it out. They passed the next quarter of an hour without speaking. She saw the frown gather on his face, and asked quickly: Why? She saw the frown gather on his face, and asked quickly: Why? He went back to the car and returned with a screwdriver. She dared not let herself think of her mother. Yes, it is a beautiful spot, but the ground is rather damp for you. Youll wait here, my young lady, till you change your mind. I saw a man like this about ten years ago. He may have made a mistake - were all liable to make mistakes. She shrank back as he advanced towards her. My dear young lady, Im afraid you have had a bad time. In another second he had passed through the door, slamming it after him. Ive endured quite enough insolence from you, and you can go. You have that young lady waiting for me when I come back. It was a lady who drove up to the door in a Rolls. Dick grabbed his overcoat and flew to the door. Never mind what youre surprised at, she said tartly. And then, in an easy conversational voice: You have a very pretty house here, Mr Cody."

There's something so artful and lovely about these emails, and while I "report spam" with each new arrival, I can't help but to read and cherish each computer-generated gem. What post-human poet is refusing to take credit for these?

Here's one more of my favorites, from Blanch Trevino, subject "Attacker Ovation":

"He insisted on it: she was ill, very ill. Harriets needle prick-pricked the silence. Let her get herself aman and a bit of peace. No,it only meant that he thought Tomnoddies were fools and so was she. Do you want to kill me with anothertreacherous blow? Boiled shirts, chimney-pot hats, and watching your step every inchof the way till your dying day. He turned his head away and watched her out of the corner of hisplated eyes. Wasnt it plain asdaylight that he would never say THAT? I was the bloke that shot the blacks onthis here identical spot and incinerated them single-handed! The lips had lost or gained something too. He had an urgent matter to discuss but did not feelup to a two-hundred-mile jolting in the coach. He took the cigar from his teethand looked at it sharply, reached for the matches and got italight. My mother was Emma Surface,the convict, and my grandmother was a gipsy, and Im like mymother. Hetried to recapture that liking, but it would not come. Youll have a finger in thepie and my lawyer will give you a hand. No more bad temper, no more shrinkingaway, no more distrust, opposition, and ingratitude. Not with all the snooping duennas in the world. How could she tell him that after all her boasts,after what she had said about James? You shouldnt be thinking of that lot down there, he said after along pause. Its nearly the same as abasingyourself like St Seraphina. Oh, nonsense, she said, but she was pleased. Under easy-going old Larsen development had been slow. She took her hands away and rose from the table. Oh, come back, come back and take me away! There was no need for her to forbid him to question her. She listened without hearing, impenetrable. Cabell was relieved to see the last of him. Oh, yes, it would be hideous if it were true because what wouldbecome of her when he was gone?"

Labels: spam

posted by Little Gordie @ 1:45 PM