I’ve just spent the entire morning wading through the Office Spam Filter looking for valid e-mails that have gotten themselves ensnared in its sticky web. I want to stab out my eyes with straightened paper clips now.
On the positive side, I have learned a few things:
I now know more about Viagra, Cialis and Hoodia than anyone on the planet. Fact.
There are a lot of wealthy Nigerians who really need my bank details. There are live girls waiting to talk with me right now! Lots of people want to offer me loans, stock tips, fake Rolexes, pet care, cures for baldness, and “hypoallergenic and dishwasher safe” sex toys.
I have also revelled in the limited joys of the deliberate misspelling, those amateurish tricks designed to fool a Spam Filter. You know the sort of thing I mean: pr0n; brest; secksual disfunktion.
So, 4000 e-mails later, my eyes burn from the fire of a thousand blazing pixels. I need a nap followed by gently massaging coffee grounds and Jack Daniel’s into my tear ducts.