Shavonne Kelly [who she?] sent me a long e-mail of sheer gobbledygook this morning. Here are the first few sentences:
“The old man repeated the question. to the vacancy; if there was not a vacant place at the table, the brushdefying, soapandwaterproof, north star, burr mud, blacker thannewcomer retired to the window and read the Northern Messenger or the until it aim reached the western Tsa. This is my she. Who feed on population wishes her more detect than Tsa……”
And so on, and so forth. Etc. etc. Totally meaningless piffle and twaddle. Bilge. I am now getting literally dozens of such e-mails every day from the Shavonnes of this world, and no doubt you are too. Illiterate, senseless drivel, pouring out of umpteen computers from heaven knows where.
What intrigues me is: WHO ARE THESE CRETINS? Why do they do it? Are their lives really so empty that the best way they can think of to eke out their pointless existence is to emulate a chimpanzee dreaming she is Jane Austen? [These ‘narratives’ quite frequently feature Mr Darcy]. Besides the lunatic fiction writers, there are the purveyors of instant remedies for increasing my penis size – alas, that horse has long since bolted – and the enthusiastic purveyors of replica Rolex watches and touters of hot stock market tips, who no doubt hope that some naïve recipients are eagerly going to send their credit card details.
Computer-wiser friends assure me that there is method in all this madness, and that the senders are either malevolent trolls seeking to infect my system with a nasty virus, or thievish types after dosh. I at anyrate have the good sense never to click a link on these missives, and to delete them promptly. But what a waste of time and effort!
Shavonne Kelly’s tale does at least contain one grain of good sense. As her ‘old man’ remarks, “you cant fool them on a bad pudding by putting on a good sauce”.
You can say that again.