Man, spam can suck my ass.
Well, actually, nah. I’ve written about it before, but there is something weirdly magical about good spam; GOOD spam. Like Zoltan Papp who I swear is just 3 sentences away from writing some masterful goddamn science fiction stories a la conspiracy theories. Or the infamous Nigerian Prince con mucho dinero qui just needs you to wire some cash so you can inherit it from him, regardless of the internal contradiction that presents.
But now this anti-blog thing is getting spam, and it is mildly frustrating, to put it…mildly. Blegh.
I’m all for that sexy poetry spam where it’s a series of words that don’t really make sense, arrayed in a beautiful colorful word salad and all that makes sense is that the words are multi-syllabic masterpieces of sound and that’s about it. Carburetor switch valve sorry for the ectoplasmic refraction beam; light at the end of the tunnel but only killswitches on the anterior side of nowhere’s seti alpha v crazy. It’s an orthogonal retrograde of amnesiac surrealism pressed against the grey stone tilt of some jojo reference I don’t have time for.
Sorry, where were we?
Eh, I don’t know. I was too busy making word salad.
Ah. No. I lost my train of thought.
Should I end this here?
Well, if you insist, me.
What was I talking about?
Oh, right, getting spam.
Getting spam is great…if you get other attention too; but I don’t.
Spam is the only attention I get. Comment after comment of spam. And that means someone is reading it, and maybe I should show compassion to those people.
Those People are salesman, after all. They are trying to convince me to buy a product because they see a need – poor viewership – and feel in their automaton hearts that they have the solution.
They don’t. It’s spam. But it’s the the thought that counts.
But is spam something that can really think? Well, no, but it’s not meant to. It’s meant to push a product that may or may not work, and get money into the hands of the unscrupulous and scrupulous alike. Spam isn’t always illegitimate like Jon Snow; sometimes Spam is just some trashy e-mail meant to sell you a thing, sent to a million people who are likely to purchase it.
Sometimes, Spam is thought about heavily. It has meaning. Someone thought about, probably for hours – maybe even longer – the arrangement of the font, how colorful it should be and every little detail, just to make sure it would ping on your email and grab your attention.
There is something admirable about that.
Because, when it’s not a scam, out and out, that means someone cared enough to make sure you would like to read that. Someone put enough care to grab your attention to make sure you wanted their project; and, because this theoretical spam is by a marketing team, it is because they recognize in you a potential client. They know something about you that you may not even be aware of.
But perhaps in sending it it was too generic; perhaps they did not put enough thought into make the email seem real. One man’s spam is another man’s treasure…probably. And at least with spam attached to something legitimate, you know someone is thinking about it.
I can’t decide if that’s sad, or beautiful.
Oh, whatever, spambots, enjoy the algorithmic content you glean from this website, and have all that fun.