I looked at my filtered comments today, just to make sure I wasn’t missing any interactions–unlikely since I’ve been occupied elsewhere of late, and the Old Road Apples have turned spoiled and squishy. I did not expect to find a wonderfully supportive and sustaining environment in and amongst the Spam, and I recommend that all of your when you’re feeling worried and down, forget going downtown or crossing a bridge over troubled water. Read your spam! Here is a just a selection from the first few….
1. “Just want to say your article is as amazing. The clarity in your post is simply nice and i can assume you are an expert on this subject.” This and the others below are all in reference to a post called “Bonus Picture: Bikini Ski Girl”
2. “This post could not be written much better! Looking at this article reminds me of my previous roommate! He constantly kept talking about this.” In reference to a post called “Organic Roadkill.”
3. “I don’t know who you are but certainly you’re going to a famous blogger if you are not already”
4. “Whoa this blog is magnificent i really like studying your posts. Keep up the good work!”
When I was a a kid my mom told me I was handsome quite a bit, and I never doubted that. When girls I liked didn’t like me, I thought: I don’t get it, I’m so handsome. When they were mean, I thought: I can can learn to be cooler, at least I’m so damned handsome. You can see where this was going–until one day, I was about 15, and I’m staring in the mirror, and it hits me. “Mom!” I shouted. “What the fucking fuck?” Turns out I’m not the leading man, I’m the overweight partner in the Sears Roebuck sportcoat, due to retire in a week who gets gunned down in the first act. But those spammers, they think I’m goddamn F. Scott Fitzgerald. I love spammers.