My e-mail box at work has this feature where it diverts junk mail into a holding box. I go into that box once every couple of weeks or so, and do a quick scan for any valid messages that may have been flagged improperly. I seldom find real messages there, and when I do it’s usually one day after the deadline for the matter being addressed.
But it’s not really the prospect of finding good messages that keeps bringing me back to the Junk Mail Box. It’s the fakes that make it all worthwhile - they can be so entertaining. There are several types of junk messages that seem to be making the current rounds:
“Your bank needs updated information”. Frankly, anybody that clicks on that one probably deserves what they get! (Did I say that out loud?)
How about the “Let’s get acquainted” message – usually from a girl with a foreign sounding name, like Ingrid or Brigitte...or Anastasia. I’m supposed to think she wants to get to know me because, even though she’s absolutely gorgeous and the life of the party, she has trouble getting men to chat with her. (Hint – it’s really a 60 year old fat guy with hair growing out of his moles.)
For some reason I get a lot of junk mail wanting to sell me a watch. These are obviously from people that have read my blogs about my Rolex Watch.
What I get the most are ads to sell me little blue pills. For those of you too innocent to know, that is referring to Viagra, a medicine to treat a malady known as ED - (look it up). Please tell me you get these ads too! Surely I haven’t been singled out.
But the funniest ones of all are the messages that show my own e-mail address as the sender. Hey, if “I” sent the e-mail I would have known it. In fact, I probably wouldn’t have sent myself an e-mail at all. I would have just told myself directly, or written myself a note.
But then I remembered the movie “Sybil”. So I guess there is the possibility that I have multiple personalities, and am trying to communicate with myself. So far I haven’t answered myself. I keep deleting my e-mails. I’m probably pretty frustrated with me by now.
But then…I’ve got to wonder…why would I want to sell myself Viagra? Do I know something I don’t know?
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