eat your spam, dear

Each morning, the email inbox here contains several earnest entreaties, answers to questions I have little or no interest in asking ... how fulfilled I would be if I simply heeded one spiritual lesson or another; how happy, by implication, I would be if I accepted $27 million from Nigeria; or how joyful I might be with a larger and more resourceful tallywacker.

The fact that I punch the appropriate computer keys and erase such entreaties in no way implies I do not generally wake up with a new crop of my own spamming salesmen. As for example, I wonder what it might be like to wake up without any of my encouraging, gnawing, ameliorating or oh-so-meaningful spam. This morning....

-- If anyone crossed the frontier of joylessness, would they then feel bereft and joyless?

-- If, as implied with the ruthless politesse of a Saturday-morning door-knocker, anyone might be screwed without god, how screwed might they be with him? It would be empirically unwise to underestimate the enormous popularity of Being Screwed.

-- If the Answer Function simply ceased to operate -- would the questions be lonely or would they simply find a more productive use of their time?

And most insistent, somehow, this morning,

-- If an aardvark could tap-dance ... ?

If an aardvark could tap-dance, I imagine my tallywacker would in fact become larger and more resourceful and the morning email would probably be clogged with compassionate concern about when and whether I had "an erection that lasted for more than four hours."

Spam missives, spam mind ... maybe it's like the old male chauvinist observation about women: "Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em."