20 January 2006

An Unprintable Me Jobs You Standardizing

I must be one of the few people who actually enjoys getting spam. Not, I hasten to add, because I wish to avail myself for any of their services, but for the insights they give into both the transient fads and enduring preoccupations of the general public.

The best spam provides valuable insight into what makes people tick - and what makes them click. Even if, like me, you never do the latter, you can still admire the enormous cunning that spammers manage to squeeze into a subject line. I read spam every day, and write about its dangers frequently, but I am forced to admit that I'm often nearly taken in by some of the stuff I receive, so plausible is it.

But better more than the ever-evolving marketing skills on display, it is the sheer poetry of some of this stuff that captivates me.

As everyone who receives spam will have noticed, it is vital for spam to beat the spam filters. To do this, it frequently employs random words and phrases in an attempt to fool the software into thinking that it is human generated (a sort of Turing test writ small).

Sometimes these are random single words, sometimes they are gobbets of text torn bleeding from online sources (it's always interesting to Google these in order to find out where they come from). But occasionally, you get something special: words that have a real poetry of their own.

I received one of these recently; it's so good, I just have to share it.

I normal of whisde a conversed the stomping is imperial
She witnessed was waves of jumping it lifelong uselessly
Me destitute embracing is need of production a recompensed
A this? the tucked tempting it materials she howled
You broken of reaches the series and fourthlargest or stratagem
Not kicking you afternoon and choralsinging me burningly starts
No gateways is limited this stained of exposed the drawers?
If very we prophet of amidst a sources is candy
An unprintable me jobs you standardizing she vertically openly
Have veering influence of ribbons it riffraff was package
Was disciple not occupant damned a twanged or chances
And wetted epigraph is coffee of lighting an country

Just one question: who owns the copyright for this stuff?

No comments: