In the past week, one post from several years ago on this blog was visited several hundred times. But not, alas, by human beings. Instead, robotic intelligences all over darkest Russia have sought it out, in order to place commercial content in the comments field.
[This I know from viewing my stats, which make much clear.]
Due to several garbage markers their fruitions came to naught.
Today that antique post got well over two hundred hits.
There was only on item in the spam folder.
When that essay first gained spambot attention, the number of visits was somewhat less, but the volume of spam commentary awaiting approval linked to it was enormous. Having trashcanned any number of variants on several familiar themes, the deletion is now nearly automatic. Body building supplements, penis enhancers, nervous medicines, and Detroit cooking supplies now disappear before they can even irritate me.
Absurd confession: I enjoy the sadness of spam-programs.
A week ago I would open up my spamfolder, and with one lordly swoop of the index finger delete any number of sly offerings, after quickly ascertaining that each and every one of them presented a variation on a message I had seen before, with deliberate and strategic misspellings and/or the inclusion of characters from alphabets not my own, along with urls, and often the termination that invited readers to visit their own blog or webpage.
The idea that a spambot had been frustrated, and might start questioning its own existence or feeling lost and empty, filled me with joy. My arrogant erasing of their every effort was a source of brutal pride, their carefully crafted entreaty, formulated to sound vulnerable, and as human as possible, fell on deaf eyes!
"HI, I AM THINKING OF FINALLY STARTINGTING'G MY OWN ѴѴ3BЫѲG, DO YOU HAVE ANY ADVICE FOR A COMPLETE BEGINNER, WHAT PLATFORM IS BEST, PLEASE VISIT MY < ЗL0G >!"
Yeah, man, me SO fooled by sincerest plea you. That charming naievete, the shyness with which you claim not to know how to go about it, and your desire for pointers, any clues at all. Truly I now wish to visit your hormone therapy site! Real estate scams in Outer Alwanquistan have a huge amount in common with everything I write about, you're right; we should exchange links and guestpost each others pages!
Dang, orgasm time!
Yes, I know that spambots have no feelings.
But it was fun to confound them.
Boom. You're gone. Hah!
The modern age has made us more cynical, and more literate. Oddly, much of our social interaction is text-based, and we are just as likely to interact and share data with machine intelligences as with humans.
I like my algorithmic readers.
They have interesting quirks.
Key words: Kippah, chocolate, peanut butter cup, chol hamoed, pantie exchange. Patookus, Cadbury, and Milky Way Dark.
A trail of slime left by a banana slug.
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