Don’t Eat The Spam!

Sometimes, spam comments looks genuine; at first glances, I thought this was:

My brother suggested I would possibly like this web site.
He used to be entirely right. This put up actually made
my day. You cann’t believe just how a lot time I had spent for this info!

Then I thought about it: her brother used to be entirely right?  I has brothers.  I don’t thinks so….

It’s definitely spam; or the author is an only child and wishing it ain’t so.

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On a seriously note, I heard that the illiterate emails we is getting in our inboxers are deliberate: nasty spammers want to weed out the intelligent and/or persons what can spell, becAuse they are less likely to be gullible and therefore taken in buy iritating emails.

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Does you like how I am writings in the style of spam?  It’s very pleasance.

I was going to asks you all to do similar or the sames in your comments, but yours proberly ennd up in my spam filter.

By the way, the title refers to a family story going back about six years.  My nephew and niece were staying with us for a couple of weeks and I made lunch.  Much hilarity ensued because I squirted a bottle of tomato sauce from directly over the top of a sandwich and still managed to miss.  Such are my cooking skills.

Nephew & Nice sat down with their sandwiches and Spud and Wary Boy were given theirs.  One of the boys smelled it and said, ‘I think this ham is off.’

You know how in The Night Before Christmas visions of sugar plums danced in their heads?  Well, visions of vomiting children for whom I was temporarily responsible danced in mine and I ran into the other room screaming, ‘Don’t eat the ham!  Don’t eat the ham!’

Nowadays, if I ever say the word ‘ham’, everyone in the room yells at me, ‘Don’t eat the ham!  Don’t eat the ham!’

My mistake, of course, was not to give food poisoning to my own children.   They wouldn’t have laughed at me then.  Ah well, we mothers can’t get everything right.

 

Joke 510

 

My friend Pseu sent me this one.

I had an email with a message about pork shoulder, salt, water, modified potato starch and sodium nitrate.

I didn’t reply as I assumed it was spam.

 

Shakespeare, Facebook & Spam

Spud taught me how to download pictures from Facebook!

Shakespeare does the Hokey-Cokey:

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A recent Facebook status written by Spud:

“The thing about quotes on the internet is that you cannot confirm their validity.” – Abraham Lincoln.

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The photographs of my poems from the Bolton Arts Trail post are too small for you to read.  If you are interested, I posted them on my poetry blog.

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And finally:

The name of a spammer in my spam box today – possibly my favourite piece of spam ever:

Home made penis extenders

My mind has never been so boggled. Roll out the chopsticks!

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While We’re On The Subject…

Yesterday I wrote about the English school system.  Today, I came across a lovely little blog with a horrifying subject matter: [whisper it] school dinners.

A primary school child – aged no more than eleven, which you will know if you were paying attention to yesterday’s lesson: pay attention; there might be a test later – is so appalled by her school dinners, she has started blogging about them.  Here’s an example:

Photograph  © Veg at Never Seconds

Absolutely disgraceful!  How is a child supposed to function on that?

Check her out at Never Seconds.  Well worth a read.  She has just started blogging so it would be nice to encourage her.  Maybe she can start a school dinners revolution, taking over where Jamie Oliver left off.

Spud was on school dinners for a while.  There were some days when he came home starving and the final straw for me was the day he had cheese for lunch.  Cheese.  Just cheese.  No bread, no, potatoes, no pasta, nothing to bulk it out or fill him up.  Cheese, because that was all that was left.  He went straight on to homemade lunches until high school.

School dinners are obligatory at his present school but he loves them – roast dinners; fabulous chocolate cakes; several options and enough to go round – of course he loves them.

School dinners – even the memory of them – make me queasy.  That horrible smell wafting through the building in morning lessons.  The mass of fat and gloop on the plate.  And don’t get me started on the puddings – sago (albino frog spawn by any other name) or rice pudding with jam…eurggh!

Spam Fritters! (Photo credit: Stevie-B)

I posted about electronic spam the other day, which brought up the other kind of spam, meat.  Allegedly. 

From Wikipedia:

Spam (its name a portmanteau of the words “Spiced” and “Ham”) is a canned precooked meat product made by the Hormel Foods Corporation, first introduced in 1937. The labeled ingredients in the classic variety of Spam are chopped pork shoulder meat, with ham meat added, salt, water, modified potato starch as a binder, and sodium nitrite as a preservative. Spam’s gelatinous glaze, or aspic, forms from the cooling of meat stock.

…and they served that to children in my day.

Spam Fritters were the worst: alleged meat coated in batter and deep-fried, with the fritter three times the size of the spam.  No wonder I was so skinny in school: I didn’t eat.

Did you?

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Spam Spam Spam Spam Spam

 

SPAM! [don’t buy] (Photo credit: داود)

I have a serving of spam to share with you, but first, this one is not spam, it just caught my eye:

From the Arts Council:

Job – Head of Patrons, Maternity Cover – Tate Britain.

My dicky eyes misread it as:

Head of Matrons, Paternity Cover.

Quite a different job!

Spam comes in various forms: abuse, compliments and porn being the most common.  To find a territorial spammer was fun:

Move along folks, nothing to see here, just marking my spot.

Now for the abuse:

someone needs to smack you in the face

It caught my attention because of the name, and the apology that followed:

Eimear Gobshite (sorry)

If you don’t get it, try saying it out loud, remembering that it’s not pronounced, Ee-mare.

This next person is obviously not a regular – how many more times could I post on my blog without being mistaken for a spammer myself?

If possible, as you gain expertise, would you mind updating your blog with more information?

Here’s one I liked:

This is the type of material that really should gain worldwide recognition pertaining to its workmanship.

I cannot disagree.

This one slapped me on the back with one hand and in the face with the other:

Hi! Best prostitute of St. Petersburg!!!

And finally, in the words of my favourite spam ever,

Lofty bye, genial friend

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They Almost Got Me*

Image by Ian W Scott via Flickr

Over on my shockingly neglected poetry blog, I was delighted to read this comment from a new visitor:

Its like you browse my mind!

Every poet hopes to touch their readers in some way, to speak a universal truth.  Then I went to return my perceptive reader’s visit: at genitalwarts.

Spam.  To misquote Tom Arnold in True Lies (he was referring to women):

Spammers!  Can’t live with ’em; can’t kill ’em.

At least it gives me a laugh now and then.

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*The spammers; not the genital warts.  Thought I’d better clarify that.

And On The Subject Of Spam…

 

Image by mike lowe via Flickr

…this one just came in:

what to take to last longer in bed…

premature ejacultaion…

I don’t think these people have quite got the hang of their product, do you? 
Or spelling.

You know what you should take to last longer in bed?

A sleeping pill.

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Related articles

• Why e-mail spam rarely works, reason #17438234 (niklasblog.com)
• Wham, Bam, Thank You Spam (thelaughinghousewife.wordpress.com)

 

Le Spam

I shouldn’t have written all those posts about France – the French spammers are after me now.  Fortunately, I can’t read French, so I don’t know if I’m Superbe! or if they want to sell me French Viagra (Le Up!).

If I do want to buy the little blue pill (so they say; I haven’t seen it, I swear), spammers to my inbox are offering a Christmas discount of 20%.  You couldn’t make it up.

Spammers: I’d like to deck their halls with boughs of holly.

Related articles

• Tribute to the creative spammers! (7topics.wordpress.com)
• Le petit Nicolas (alannapeebles.wordpress.com)
• France, Day 4: Sunrise, Shopping, Sightseeing, Strange Pancakes (thelaughinghousewife.wordpress.com)

Ma’am Spam

I think the Queen’s a reader! 

 

In my spam box:

Great website.  I will be visiting one’s blog for a long time to come.

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More Six Word Saturdays here.

Gasp!

I’ve just received this message in my spam box:

Of course I like your web-site, but you have to check the spelling on several of your posts. A number of them are rife with spelling issues and I find it very silly to tell you.

It’s like I’ve been stabbed in the heart with an exclamation mark.

If you are new here, you might not know that I am a nit-picker among nit-pickers when it comes to punctuation.  I have been known to wake up screaming in the middle of the night, because my subconscious suddenly realised I used a semi-colon instead of a colon in a post three days previously.

Spammers are mean. 

The really weird part, however, is how did she know?  This comment came from Helen Keller. 

Wham, Bam, Thank You Spam

Image via Wikipedia

The Hot Shot Bald Cop, having been rumbled, left one parting compliment and never called back.

Now I am under attack again, but in a way that makes me feel butterflies are in charge of the war: I have had at least twenty ‘Likes’ in the past two days, from foreign folk who don’t leave a link, just their Gravatar; mostly French and German Gravatars.  Perhaps that’s why they hit the ‘Like’ button – we are all Europeans these days, so ich bin ein Berliner and they are from Germport and Pardon.

I have no complaints, therefore, except (oh come on – you knew I’d have at least one), why are they liking older posts?  What use is that to me?  If you’re going to spam me, please do it on the latest posts so new readers think I’m popular and will return to laugh another day.

On the subject of spam, you will never guess what I received in my spam box the other day (dirty answers on a postcard and send them to Big Al, please): a joke!  Here it is:

I got in a fight one time with a really big guy, and he said, “I’m going to mop the floor with your face.” I said, “You’ll be sorry.” He said, “Oh, yeah? Why?” I said, “Well, you won’t be able to get into the corners very well.”

I don’t understand you moaning minnies out there, always going on about spam.  Bring it on! I say; I can always use a good compliment from a twisted stranger.

I May Have To Give Up Blogging

Image via Wikipedia

When even my spammers are going off me, I think I need to call it quits:

Is the work for extra visitors worth the heartache?  Buy a handbag!

At best, they are lukewarm:

I appeared to be happy to discover this particular web-site.I wanted to appreciate it for your precious time with this great study!!

The implication being, of course, that this particular spammer was faking happiness and couldn’t appreciate me, no matter how they tried.

Spammers now feel the need to belittle rather than enlarge me.  Who’d have thought I’d miss the good old days of free porn?

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Addendum: readers are advised not to write complimentary comments on how wonderful my blog is, beseeching me not to retire from the blogosphere – on pain of sprouts.  I know it, but feel obliged to pretend modesty.

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Wham, Bam, Thank You Spam

I have to share my Spam Comment Of the Day with you:

Now that’s what I call gay.

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It was on the page, Welcome Me.  Here’s an extract of that post:

Cook.  Cleaner.  Laundry

maid.  Nanny.  Nurse.  Banker.  Last

resort.  Unpaid.  Worse –

un-thanked.  Abandoned.

She laughs.  Laughs.  Laughs.  All the way

to the funny farm.

I think I had the wrong end of the stick about what being gay means.

Not My Usual Post

I usually tell you what Sidey’s weekend theme is but this week I’m going to let you guess.  You won’t find it difficult because I’m not usually subtle, am I?  The whole ‘sledgehammer to crack a nut’ thing was probably written with me in mind.

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Image via Wikipedia

I usually delete my spam messages immediately but this one is so true I thought I’d share it:

IF YOU ARE SPENDING $40 AN OUNCE ON INDIAN HAIR YOU ARE CRAZY

You can’t argue with that; but there’s no need to shout.

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Usually on a Friday I tell you about my 101/1001 progress, and I will; but later.

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Usually, I try to come up with a funny last line but this is not my usual type of post, so I won’t.

Told You They Were Watching Me

I rescued this from my spam box. 

I think the government hid it there.

I added your blog to bookmarks. And i’ll read your articles more often! Before this, it would be possible for the government to arrest you just based on whatever you were saying, if they didn’t like it.You got fantastic nice ideas there. I made a research on the topic and got most peoples will agree with your blog.

I know it’s not spam because of the truth of the last line.  This guy must have superpowers, to be able to keep me from jail just by bookmarking my blog.  Wonder if he works for Twitter?*

*A little super-injunction private joke between me and 64,999,999 other UK citizens.

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I’ve started mining Facebook.

FOR SALE OR SWAP IN STOCKPORT

‎****************ELECTRICIAN*****************

 

Wonder if they’ll take a bag of old clothes for him?

 

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I thought I’d share some email subject lines as well.

 

From the Arts Council:

 

Arts Jobs – Escalator Dance Producers

Arts Jobs – Musical Basketball Players Required

 

I’m thinking of changing my blog name to Whistling Housewife.  I can’t whistle but that’s okay, I’m as suited to this job as I am to those two.

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