Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Spam Poetry:

I just received an Email that slipped through my spam filter by including a lot of almost reasonable text. After telling me to go to a web site I would never touch, the email continued (not quite poetry, not quite totally hypnotic):

I don't miss jumping for three or four weeks..
Doesn't Sarah remember shouting slowly?.

Then came THE PARENT. (Now, you need to know, I love the parents of the children I teach.) This parent arrived on the scene with her son who had Down's Syndrome. She wanted a piece of software with REAL photos, one on each screen with the word in text and the word spoken aloud. I looked at her and thought to myself, 'B-O-R-I-N-G. The child will NEVER respond to that.'

John was enjoying sleeping near the tree.. i need to get a pedicure. my feet smell and itch. She has disliked cooking for a day or two.. tomorrow i will wash my hair and go to the salon. Those janitors aren't missing sleeping right now.. They have loved dancing.. Wasn't Dick missing talking on the street?. Were those pilots practicing praying?. Bye,

(These texts are probably cribbed from fairly random web sites. I found the original of the paragraph about the PARENT here.)

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