Let us speak now of a form of life so low and loathsome that, in comparison, the worst person you ever had to spend time with is a saint, a paragon of human virtue and charm. I’m speaking of a form of life that is the biggest waste of human flesh this world has ever seen.
I’m speaking of a form of life so useless, so revolting, that a universe in which just one of these disgusting creatures lives, albeit even on a distant planet beyond the reach of any space ship, is worse than living in a house filled with giant, raving, rabid human-hating scorpions.
I’m speaking of a kind of sub-human so offensive in the face of all that is good and right they should be forced to live their miserable lives wearing cactus-lined underwear while Prometheus‘ Eagle takes a break from his usual duties to come to eat their livers and hearts. (Except, of course, they have no hearts.)
I’m speaking of a critter so despicable that dung beetles, in comparison, appear as cute cuddly puppies. A form of human slime so noxious that living life in a fume of farts would seem the sweetest scent of roses.
I’m speaking of spammers.
(We shall not use that name again here, least we invoke their demonic presence.)
They visit our blogs daily and leave their diseased rat droppings before they vanish into the sewers from which they slunk. They usurp our email addresses and send their foul seeds far and wide, and we get the bounces and blacklists.
Hyenas and vultures have better manners and aspect. Hyenas and vultures serve a purpose. If every spammer vanished from the Earth, the world would be a far better place. And we would rejoice.
As much as my heart burns with hatred for the idiots who drive and cell phone, it is nothing compared to the diamond hard volcanic rage invoked by these useless boils on the ass of humanity. There is no punishment cruel and unusual enough to serve justice to such as these; no death lingering and mortifying enough; no shame sufficient. They are surely the best possible argument for both abortion and capital punishment.
I’ve long thought we should send in SEAL teams, as we did with that bin Laden fuck. Treat them as terrorists, our deadly enemy and wipe them out. Maybe if we began displaying their heads on pikes and parading their flayed bodies through the streets we might make our point and get the message through.
In case you’re not quite clear on my point, I don’t much care for them.
I’m eternally grateful WordPress manages to siphon them off for us (thank you!). At first I found reading their weak attempts somewhat amusing, but that wore off long ago.
It is somewhat interesting how their tactics evolve as they try to get a finger-hold. Flattery, of a sort, is the usual tactic:
Uh huh. From your insightful comments I can tell you’ve read my stuff. This one at least tries a little harder:
Speechless, eh? If only you were lifeless instead. Not quite sure, but this one may have been sniffing glue on the way to work:
Er, thank you? This one seems to be departing, but sadly not permanently:
Here’s another that almost seems like… no,… no it doesn’t:
Girl gaga, huh? Pretty sure I’ve never written a word about her (P!nk is way cooler anyway). Lately I’ve noticed a new trick; they try to make it look like a trackback:
Nice try, toe jam, but no cigar. I’ve also noticed a trick where they complain about images, or the whole blog, not loading well and piteously ask if anyone else is having trouble. The comments in these usually don’t contain the hidden links (which WordPress shows us anyway), but the Gravitar links back to their crap. And finally, there’s the interesting trick of not trying to flatter me:
Nice try, scrotum pimple, but no cigar for you either (unless you’d like to try one of my “special” cigars… I know they look like sticks of dynamite, but that’s just branding… they’re a good smoke, really… trust me).
I feel better now, getting the poison out. And I can delete the text file of their “comments” that’s been squatting toad-like on my file system. And best part? I can’t wait to see the flattering “comments” this post gets!
And just in case any of you cockroaches are reading this:
Eat. Shit. And. Die. Mofu!