Tuesday 24 October 2017

Wham, spam

Denise Deegan

They say that spam is down by five percent. I'd like to know whose spam? Certainly not mine. By eight this morning, Bambi Knight wanted to sell me Viagra and addictive prescription medicines at 80 percent discount. Laverne Fontenot was concerned about the size of my male appendage. Roland Xiong invited me to trade on a stock that will 'rocket like a comet'. While Jasmine Presley wanted my bank account details by TONIGHT so she can give me a massive loan. I expect at least ten other similar messages today. And probably the same number again overnight.

Call me paranoid, but are these people even real? Take Bambi. Her email is identical to countless other exotically named spammers. Same goes for Laverne, Roland and Jasmine. It seems they are simply changing their names with every message they send. Which must satisfy their creative side. The spam itself certainly couldn't. To amuse myself sometimes, I imagine that there is really only one person behind all spam, a Wizard of Oz-type creature with an elaborate software programme. Sometimes, I imagine myself killing him.

When I first got a phone that receives email, I thought: 'Nifty, I can deal with things as I go; no major in-box tailbacks to wade through when I turn on the computer'. That night I began to reform my opinion as I learned that spammers, like bats, are nocturnal creatures. Every message was heralded by a vibration and three loud bleeps. I'd have turned off the phone had I not been (naively) concerned that its alarm might not go off in the morning. I think that's when I started to hate them.

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