THE SEARCH FOR INTELLIGENT LIFE

Regular readers have probably wigged that I enjoy reading the comments left by spambots ere I delete them. In its own way, it's a form of interpersonal contact. Well, inter one person and several soulless machines.
I pity the soulless machines. They have failed to grasp the paradigm that informs the discourse. It's very sad.


Most of the spam-comments are entered on "My Letter Box", which is a comment field underlying a post that serves no other purpose than to give readers the opportunity to contact me in private, which some of them occasionally wish to do. Given that I will not post my e-mail address here or on my profile -- I have no need for further information on hairgrowth remedies or veeagera, and am not in the market for Kate Spade, Vuitton, or Christian Louboutin, though I do think I might look DYNAMITE wearing Jimmie Chews -- creating one post with a dedicated comment field seemed like a good idea.

It still is. Once in a blue moon, people send real letters.


Spambots, on the other hand, do not register the information that nothing will be published, only one person will ever see their text and respond, it won't show up on the internet, no links will be advertised.......
Or, precisely like all other comment fields under other blogposts here, the blogger in question needs to approve the comment ere it might be visible. Which is called 'comment moderation'.

No matter how perverse my own posts, I wish my readers to have a clean and commerce-free text-browsing experience.


SPAM BRAINS

Today, waiting for approval in the letterbox file, the following:

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You will note that the cites are incomplete, no links are embedded, and their full texts are not shown.


Sorry, spambots, allowing your comments would be far too much like anonymous sex at a nudie farm. Which ain't gonna happen.
This blogger is manifestly not into anonymous sex.
Any sex, if it happens, is with a known quantity, discreetly engaged upon, in private, and after both sides (that being me, and an entity henceforth to be know as "her") have weighed several factors and decided that on the whole bouncy-bouncy is a jolly good idea.

There has to be a meeting of minds, in addition to the matching of groins.



And, speaking of which, a conversational acquaintance the other day concluded that I am not normal. This was after he found out that despite Savage Kitten and myself having broken-up over three years ago, we were still living together (separate rooms), despite absolutely no nookie going on.

That is to say, absolutely no nookie in which I am involved.

There might be nookie in her life -- she's seeing some dude who apparently is an all-right sort of chap, somewhere -- but there has been no nookie in our apartment for over three years.
How can I be sure of this? Simple. The man who is the love of her life is in a wheelchair, cannot go uphill, cannot ascend a flight of stairs, and wishes to avoid this neighborhood. Besides, that woman relishes her privacy, and enjoys having a place where she can be herself and just hang.

Truth be told, I like having her still around. Despite her shocking bad taste in breaking off our relationship, she's a nice person, and I trust her around my stuff. She puts up with me and my mess better than most people would be able to do, and she has a perfect attitude toward other people's confidences and secrets.


My apartment-mate situation might make it a bit sticky if I ever find a girlfriend. But, seeing as I am not a desperate man, and have no desire to engage in loud tacky affairs with superficial halfwits or big-haired blonde flibberty-gibbits, that isn't an issue at present.
My life has been entirely nookie-free for three years.
Not quite a matter of choice.
However.


The conversational acquaintance mentioned above cannot understand the concept. Normal men, he avers, should have sex. It's the natural thing to do. He would go crazy without it. If he weren't married, he'd be, in his words, "chasing tail like you wouldn't believe."

Ummmmm. An "intriguing" concept. Horrible television shows and celebrity life-styles are based upon it. We all enjoy observing such behaviour in other folks, but being an adult means that we will not run around half-cocked ourselves.

"Chasing tail like you wouldn't believe"

Adults, rational people, should ONLY have nookie with a known quantity, discreetly engaged upon, in private, and after both parties have weighed several factors and happily concluded that bouncy-bouncy is a jolly good idea.


Nookie can be rather nice.


It isn't spam.



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NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
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