(I actually tucked this away before checking out Amalah’s site this afternoon, where she is quite taken with a piece of spam she received. First I thought I’d write about it another time, considering… but now I think maybe it’s just a particularly spammy day and I should continue the love.)

My ISP has a spam filter. Whether or not it actually catches any spam before delivering to my inbox, I’m not sure. The things that get through still seem typically spam-like to me, but what do I know. I’m just the loser paying these people approximately $729/month for the extreme privilege of receiving this spam faster than ever before… on alternate Tuesdays when the moon is full and my broadband connection is actually working. Anyway.

A couple of days ago I received a piece of mail from Chester Lockwood. Naturally, I was startled to see the email heading:
this has worked for me hardboiled throaty

Now, I don’t know Chester, but no one has called me that in years, I tell you. So it was a bit jarring. Thinking I could throw that interesting subject line into my blog at some point, I elected to save this piece of mail rather than deleting it. But I didn’t look at the body of the message.

Tonight rolls around… I am coughing, I feel yucky, I have promised jilbur a story of my great fictitious romances and I just don’t feel up to it (I will do it, but not today). Now, I figure, would be a good time to to feature Chester in all his one-lined zinging glory. So I went ahead and clicked on the email, only to discover that Chester is no lucky one-hit savant. Oh no. Chester is a poet!

I was expecting a treatise on penis enlargement. I get a lot of those; I’m sure you do, too. Forwarding them to my ex was fun for a while but everyone has to grow up sometime. Anyway, this little ditty from Chester was not about enlarging my penis, but declared that “local babes want a bone.” (So do I, Chester. Tell them to walk slowly around the supermarket searching for ringless left hands pushing carts holding something other than beer and ringdings, just like the rest of us.) This was followed by a website address, and then this piece of mastery:

A given white glove is thinking. Her daughters hairy mp3 player stares. Any white caw stinks. Her daughters purple computer calculates. Whose well-crafted paper lies or maybe a hairy mouse looks around. A odd shaped fancy golden small white underwares run. His brothers silver spoon got an idea. The well-crafted printer got an idea. Her soft caw is angry. Whose purple odd shaped house smiles. Our slopy printer calms-down however, the fancy hairy laptop arrives and perhaps any little book lies. Our children green tv arrives or maybe their golden silver slopy laptop adheres or a beautiful ram stinks. The green sport shoes smiles. The purple green paper makes sound. Our slopy sport shoes stares. Her well-crafted soft small green tv stares. Whose stupid small white printer sleeps however, a given round-shaped gun calms-down as soon as whose tall fancy glove adheres. His brothers green underwares got an idea. Her daughters bluish bottle stares. Any given soft omprella show its value and still our children smart mobile phone snores. Their tall purple little bottle adheres or maybe his brothers shining white green green recycle bin stares as soon as whose round-shaped small printer stares and still any given round-shaped book fidgeting. The beautiful laptop stinks or maybe her daughters noisy red t-shirt calms-down. Mine fancy caw lies. Our silver baby walks at the place that their odd shaped mobile phone makes sound. Any round stupid balloon calculates. A silver kitchen is angry. Her noisy soda stands-still. A expensive clock arrives however, a tall well-crafted sofa spit while a stupid bottle fidgeting. A well-crafted tall underwares stinks at the place that a given expensive smart slopy sport shoes arrives.

I mean, anything I’ve ever written just pales in comparison. Thanks a lot, Chester!