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Wednesday, 29 January 2014

I Lost My Spam Virginity

Today is a very special day. For today I am no longer a boy; I am now a man, with all of a man's strengths and weaknesses. I, ladies and gentlemen, received spam.

They left no return address. 
What makes this spam so special is its rather cryptic message, which took some time to translate. Witness the most confusing paragraph in the history of the English language:

"I loved as much as you will receive carried out right here. The sketch is attractive, your authored subject matter stylish. Nonetheless, you command get bought and shakiness over that you wish be delivering the following. Unwell, unquestionably come further formerly again since exactly the same nearly very often inside case you shield this hike. Here is my web-site hyabak"

"Someone take Sloth away from the computer."
What does it mean? Surely there must be a second meaning to the message that has been hidden behind a carefully constructed wall of functionless adverbs and confused tenses that our puny human brains cannot possibly comprehend.

Wait. Tenses. That's it! This is a message from a time-travelling prostitute informing me that I could use eyedrops to prevent my eyes from getting sore in the wind while taking the members of my future sex-cult hiking.

Not following me? Ok, let's do this one step at a time:

"I loved as much as you will receive carried out right here."

Look at the sudden changes in tense; she loved something that I am yet to receive in the very place that I am at the moment. The fact that it's something I'm receiving (suggesting I paid for it), it can be received while sitting on the sofa in my underwear (where I am right now) and that this person enjoyed it too leads me to the assumption that future me has paid for the company of another human being. It's either that or Chinese food; but I don't share Chinese food, so it's got to be a prostitute. I know what you're thinking, GMC, but you can't deem me unsuitable for medical practise for something I've not done yet.

"Damn you, space-time continuum."
Plus, it's very common knowledge that people who partake in regular time travel start to lose the ability to vocalise the concept of time and the passage of it, so the jumpyness of the past, present and future tenses suggest that this particular person is a well versed time traveller. Thus time-travelling prostitute. Simple. The next sentence really hits this theory home:

"The sketch is attractive, your authored subject matter stylish."

She's started using basic writing-based metaphors to conceal the real intent of the sentence here. The sketch she's talking about would have been drawn with a pencil; the pencil actually being something completely different but equally pencil shaped.

Like a candy stick sharpened into a makeshift weapon.
As for the "authored subject matter"; well that's obviously what I'm doing with the pencil, and she thinks its preeeeety stylish. Aw yis. You can't knock the facts, ladies. But wait, what's this next bit?

"Nonetheless, you command get bought and shakiness over that you wish be delivering the following."

Soon, word of my prowess has reached far and wide. I command a following of devoted cult members who worship my great and powerful sketch. I am unsure of myself at first and someone tries to buy me out, obviously hoping to obtain the movie rights to my story, but I refuse. Finally I decide that the only thing for us to do is go on a great pilgrimage to our Mecca, which is actually just a big hill near my house.

And when we reach the top, we shall all help each other improve our authored subject matter.
But tragedy strikes!

"Unwell, unquestionably come further formerly again since exactly the same nearly very often inside case you shield this hike."

I am stricken ill each time we attempt to reach the summit. Again and again, we attempt to scale its mild inclines but are thwarted each time, with no choice but to give up and return to the base disheartened. What is this mysterious illness, you ask? Why it is dry eyes from the wind of course.

I said dry eyes, not aye ayes. Jeez. Get that fucking thing away from me.
Luckily our mysterious prostitute from the future who only goes by the name Anonymous finally reveals the aim of her mission. The answer to all our troubles: Hyabak multi-dose 0.15% sodium hyaluronate eyedrops. They progressively release water and increase contact with the ocular surface of the eye, leading to healthier, moist eyes all day round. Oh, thank you Hyabak and Spectrum Thea Pharmaceuticals.

But most of all, thank you Anonymous. Thank you for risking the highly probable paradoxical destruction of the universe and your own life, for being reasonably priced (even taking into consideration future inflation rates), but most of all for helping future me have more comfortable eyes so that I can walk in a brisk wind without squinting and partake in weird hill-top cult orgies.

Now fuck off and don't spam me again.

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