The Spam File

Every once in awhile, just for a laugh, I glance through my spam file. That's the place my mail program automatically separates out the junk mail it deems as being unworthy of my attention—and it is. However much it would annoy me to find it in my inbox, about once every few months I find myself opening up the file and just glancing through the message titles. Tonight was one of those nights.

Do people actually respond to this garbage? I had a number of offers from people who promised that I could delight my partner with a larger "appendage," although that wasn't the exact word they used. And since I don't have one of those body parts to begin with, I certainly don't want a bigger one. And my husband wouldn't be delighted if one appeared.

There were notices of congratulations from two airlines that I had won free tickets. Sure, I'm going to believe there are no strings attached. I also seem to have won a cruise. All I have to do is fill out this little form, which includes my credit card number... 

There were dozens of offers for drugs, and I wouldn't even have to see a doctor. I saw offers to buy my old gold, loan me money, and sell me insurance without a physical examination. I can reverse mortgage my home for twice its worth, live in it for the rest of my life and never pay back a dime. It's part of the new limits set up by the TARP legislation. Great. I can live off my great grandchildren. By the time they hate me for it, I'll be dead. 

I'm so glad my Macintosh and gmail work together to keep these spam files out of my daily life. I'm also grateful for a sense of humor that keeps these things in perspective. People will always have something to sell. Some of them might be worthwhile. I'm sure if they're something I need, I end up finding them. They won't be in my spam file.