As if spammers aren't loathsome enough as it is, now they're getting insulting. Just tonight, I got an e-mail message in my mailbox that said: "You're penis is smaller than the smallest cell phone." At least I think that was spam. I hope it wasn't from an ex-girlfriend.
Spammers are scum. You take the most obnoxious telemarketer ever and he's still not as infuriating as your garden variety spammer, with the penis creams and low rate mortgages and lose 200 pounds in a half hour and please your lady all night long and buy vAliUm and xAnaax cHeAp.
Bastards. I hate them. Now and then when I get to a particular level of seething (because for a moment there, I thought I really DID win a million damn dollars in an overseas lottery) I begin plotting my revenge. Ultimately, it's very difficult to do. These lowlifes hide deeper than Al friggin Quada. But if I could find one — just one, mind you — I would dedicate a large portion of my life to tormenting the prick.
I envision leaving cryptic messages on the pecker wad's home phone ("you don't know me. But you're wife is cheating with your brother. And your sister…) I imagine going to his favorite bar hangout and louding claiming to be his gay lover. I dream of following him around and peeing in his car whenever he leaves it. I delight over the idea of planting bags of coke in his wheel wells and calling police. I have many, many such ideas for disrupting the daily lives of those cog noggers.
But I'm just raving, now. I happen to know that our own Mainetarr is quite adept at serving up heaping helpings of payback when a situation warrants it. One of these days I'll get so fired up over the mounds of spam, I'll pay her diabolicalness to unleash some revenge whoop ass.
Huge! My cell phone is huge