I usually skim the contents of my gmail spam folder, on the offchance that something is in there that shouldn’t be. I was struck this morning by some of the titles, and mused that they almost sounded like poetry.
I present, for your edification and enjoyment, a pome. I call it ‘Spam, entitled’. Made up entirely of genuine spam subject headers.
To himself on the Crumpetty Tree
Down the slippery slopes of Myrtle
Beware of cold, deterministically skipped
Why it falls quick? Did you asked something?
Spin the wheel of chance
See you there, address attached.
 turns out the first line is from Edward Lear’s The Quangle Wangle. I rather suspect that Myrtle’s slippery slopes are *not* Lear though. 🙂
[edited edit] turns out Myrtle is Lear’s too. Which means my cunning plan of doing spam subject-related poetry works because it was poetry in the first place. ha!