Spam. The sleaziest of the sleazy. If only spam could talk, what would it tell us? Therein lies the conundrum, because if we are to use only the product – the waste product – of the spammer as evidence of its existence, then what we’re left with is the impression of a pure idiot. Honestly, read this and tell us if you disagree:
Dear Email user,
This message is from Administration center Maintenance Policy verified that your mailbox exceeds its limit, you will be unable to receive new email, To re-set your SPACE on our database prior to maintain your INBOX, you must click the link below:
CLICKHERE: <Link omitted to protect the reckless>
(If the link above does not appear click able or does not open a browser window when you click it, copy it and paste it into your web browser’s Location bar). Thank you for your cooperation.
Admin Help Desk.
Let’s face it. You have to be pretty damned stupid to construct something like that, source an email list, blast it to the world, and expect anyone with two gray cells to rub together to respond. Right?
So if spammers are so damn stupid, why the hell are they still around? Honestly, if Darwin was correct – and there’s no good reason to believe he wasn’t – then by now, spammers’ typing fingers would have fallen off, they would have grown gills, and they’d be unable to keep down solid food.
So what gives?
Well, for the first time, perhaps, we have a chance to experience what life would be life if, instead of hiding behind keyboards and the dull glow of a computer screen, spammers came right up and knocked at our doors. Thanks to the fine chaps at Hapstance Films, who have crafted a brilliant short film called “The Inbox,” a witty little diatribe that takes a lighthearted poke at the dark and disturbing art of spamming.
In the piece, reminiscent of the fine tradition of Monty Python, an everyman is home one evening when a spammer comes calling. Just the type of seedy, misanthropic lowlife you’d expect of spammers, the anthropomorphized visitor isn’t satisfied with simply knocking at the door and disturbing the man’s dinner plans. No. he barges right in and demands information: personal information, mother’s maiden name, that sort of thing.
When the everyman protests, the intruder hilariously points out “BUT YOU WON!” What, asks the everyman, have I won? “THE PRIZE!” What prize? Asks the everyman. “THE BIG PRIZE!” You can imagine where it goes from here. He begins pilfering the everyman’s desk for information. An appropriate metaphor, because that’s exactly what spam does.
But it doesn’t stop there. Hilariously, the father shows up – hijacked, seemingly, as he tries to convince his son to click a link. In fact, anyone with an email account will nod and laugh with each new character, a smorgasbord, if you will, of the crap that invades our mailboxes on an habitual basis. And the denouement of “The Inbox”…well, you’ll just have to watch, won’t you?
Spam is such a serious threat, and the threat becomes more soberingly dangerous each day, it seems. It’s no joke to those of us who wrestle with it and attempt to gain a foothold on spam, the waste product of human depravity itself. But at some point, we have to stop and step back. Take a good long look at the waste product and understand what it is that we’re looking at. It’s spam. It’s called spam for a reason. It’s unwelcome. It’s nasty. It makes us want to take a shower whenever we come in contact with it. It pollutes, by association, every legitimate piece of email from marketers for known companies, because we want it to stop. We don’t care that you’re legitimate.
Stop bugging us.