A BASKET OF FATTY SALTY MEAT COMPOUND

Sometimes pork shoulder wishes to masquerade as real human. Yet, sadly, it fails.  There is no way internetbots can fool the blogger in charge here.
Quite commonly, the programming that brought them to life, and defines their being, nay, even their electronic souls, commands them to seed my "letterbox" (see embedded link at the bottom of this and every post for the past four years), where real readers can contact me, safe in the knowledge that what they write in a fit of frustrated passion -- OR ire -- OR pleased realization at how similar we are -- OR bafflement -- OR desperate sexuality -- OR friendly curiosity -- will NOT be published, but will be responded to.

If, for instance, their frustrated passion, ire, pleased realization of how similar we are, bafflement, desperate sexuality, or just friendly curiosity, prompted them to ask whether I was really the hot middle-aged stud-muffin that my essays suggest, I would answer truthfully.
It would be a nuanced response. Shades of grey and all that.
On the other hand, there are some messages that probably don't have a live human behind the keyboard that sent 'em, and do not require serious consideration.

I value your genuine vibrancy.
Oh boy howdy yes.
Write me.


GLEANINGS FROM THE SPAM BIN

Item no. 1:
A diet-salespage compliments me on my marvelous posting and tells me that there is a chance that I might be a great author. There are words of noncommittal encouragement, followed by a commercial link.

Comment: Generally speaking I sneer at special diets. Such things are for large professional women who cannot cook or obsessed wannabe beauty queens. I am not a large woman, or obsessed.
At this point, I am a slightly scrawny man.
A very clean-minded one.
Not a perv.


Item no. 2:
A body-building supplement wishes to know how I could make my site more friendly to mobile devices, and asks about themes and plug-ins.
A cheery salutation is followed by a commercial link.

Comment: There are several themes on this blog. What you do with plug-ins is your own affair; rubber equipment is NOT a theme here. I've seen such occasionally, at adult shops and hardware boutiques. Buy a wide selection, indulge your nasty self or blow a gasket, and feel free to put the plug into the same place that you use for the mobile device.
I am not a perv, I wouldn't know about that anyway.
Men who use supplements are suspect.


Item no.3:
Extensive gibbering in French about RayBan sunglasses. Several words of uncertain meaning eventually make way for an entire sentence in Double Frog, which is then followed by a commercial link.

Comment: Dude! RayBan is SO last century. Charles Schultz drew Snoopy wearing RayBan specs back in the eighties, and there was an article mentioning them in a men's magazine that I do not admit ever reading because I am not a pervert with sex on my mind.
RayBans make you look sleazy.
Unless you're a beagle.


Item no. 4:
Vacation packages and cruise plans for my delectation. It is information that he, she, it, or they, promise will make my location more enjoyable. Followed by a commercial link.

Comment: My location is already enjoyable. It is a comfy cane chair in the television room, with my first cup of coffee for the day within reach on a small tray atop a stack of books to my left.
Books are everywhere.


Item no. 5:
Another cheery salutation! One that a likable old pervert might make. An expression of surprise at the newness of my content.
Followed by a commercial link.

Comment: My content is new on a daily basis, but I frequently rehash the same themes.  None of which are diets, dietary supplements, body building food, or pervert sunglasses.


FURTHER: Spammothetic contributions underneath posts (ergo: not dumped into the letterbox) range from "attractive stumbling" through "exactly same layout and subject" as someone else's blog (about vegan skincare) and "Dr. Dre", to something which I initially read as "I'll right of way grab your ass". Which last entry I found disquieting; I suspect that the person offering to do that is not a shy virginal college graduate with spectacles, but something in the vein of a big biker type.
Not that they've ever said it either.


Far too often, the spammatic commentary is a variation on apprenticing while several ammendations of a fantastic beat continue. Which regular bloggers who are reading this, if there are any, will recognize as a pork-shoulder meme of durance and potency, seeing as they themselves have probably circular-filed such things innumerable times.

Nudity occurs no more than twice a day.
I thought you should know.

Bath. Jammies.


Fitfully passionate frustration -- ire -- pleased realization of similarity -- desperate sex -- friendly curiosity


There is no rampant perversion here. I need to stress that.

I sometimes lament the complete absence of perversion, but it's strictly an intellectual concept, rather than an actual predilection. While I admire the unmitigated degenerates of the world, I keep them and their piquant fantasies at arms length. I am a remarkably clean-minded man.

This blog is filled with puppies, Hello Kitty, designer handbags, Vuitton, expensive shoes, helpful fashion tips, fantasy baseball, butterflies, Jesus, inspiration, and romantic poetry written by innocent little children.
As an in-depth read of the most recent posts will show.
Your heartfelt feedback will be appreciated.
Tender and sensitive letters.
Put mail here.



I would finish with a recipe for Spam, but you probably already know what to do with that. In any case, fried Spam with eggs over rice is not a bad breakfast, at all, especially with Sriracha hotsauce, mango pickle, and a very strong cup of tea.




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