Today’s Tirade

Cans of Spam

No matter how the spam filters in my in-box are set up with key words and phrases, junk and unwanted correspondences always make it through regardless.

I went through my e-mail earlier to clear out the regular aggregate of offers to enlarge my manhood, or keep it up; please my lover by taking a little blue pill while impressing others with a fake Rolex watch; obtain a university degree earned by my life experience, and not to mention, the ten million pounds for which I had just been named beneficiary by someone in Nigeria who shared my cognomen; but evidently the notification was sent to the wrong person, as my name is not “Undisclosed Recipients.”

Forwarded e-mails from well-meaning friends who leave all of the several, previous senders’ addresses plastered on the top of the message, starting with the originator of the sappy joke, meme, or supposed heart-warming tale that has been floating around the Internet since Al Gore invented it, seem to take up a large percentage of the total spam in my in-box.

Worse yet, how about the dreaded chain-mail concoctions, proposing good health and much wealth while perhaps even granting a wish come true, provided one passes the abomination to at least a dozen folks from their address book?

Unmentionable destruction and unparalleled devastation awaits allegedly those who delete or don’t forward the message. Doesn’t that make you want to e-mail the perpetrator back a few days later, asking them if anything extraordinary resulted in their life as a result of their having blessed me with such an atrocity?

Nothing has happened to me yet from my sending any absurdities directly to the recycle bin.

Lastly, my greatest peeve is with didactic diatribes, professing the political views of the sender, with facts and statements held firm as God’s own truths, believed by them because it was sent by someone from the beloved “Inter-Web.”

That makes me want to send back a rebuttal with a link to “,” debunking the contents of their nonsensical jeremiad; however, I’ve refrained from doing so; for it isn’t worth insulting a friend with my constant complaints and own personal rants.

The main thing is the thought: at least I have a friend who cares enough to keep in touch. In the immortal words of one of my lifelong heroes, Paul Harvey (may he rest in peace), “Good day.”

About Mike Slickster

As an early retiree with an honorary doctorate degree from the proverbial "School of Hard Knocks," this upcoming author with a lot of free time on his hands utilizes his expansive repertoire for humorous yet tragic, wildly creative writing that contains years of imaginative fantasy, pure nonsense, classic slapstick, extreme happiness and searing heartbreak; gathered by a wealth of personal experiences throughout his thrilling—sometimes mundane or unusually horrid—free-spirited, rock-'n'-roller-coaster ride around our beloved Planet Earth. Mike Slickster's illustrious quest continues, living now in Act Three of his present incarnation, quite a bit on the cutting edge of profundity and philosophical merriment as seen through his colorful characters, most notably evident in the amusing Thirty Days Across the Big Pond series, all of which can be found at
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