As I mentioned on June 12th and June 25th I am indebted to my Spam Blocker for diligently patrolling my blog to keep it free from undesirable content. Today I send my thanks to those savvy programmers who write the code to keep up with the ever-growing mountain of cybercrap being flung at every website, in hope that some will stick. Salute!
Since I published Ode to my Blog’s Spam Blocker, about two weeks ago, the amount of Spam my site has generated has tripled! SCORE!
I suspect the Ode reinvigorated Sexy Studly Spam Slayer to work harder. His endurance is AMAZING. Yes, S4 or “Sugar Britches,” as I affectionately call him, is a male Spam Blocker. I picture him wearing green (jungle) or grey (urban) camouflaged pants, a black t-shirt, a custom-built computer complete with diamond plating and a tool belt to rival Batman’s utility belt. His hair color and facial features may change depending on my mood, but his attention to detail, to eliminating the refuse from my Blog, is unmatched. Oh, and he is buff…or does his best work in the buff. I haven’t decided.
He is the perfect Spam Blocker – the standard of excellence by which all Spam Blockers should be judged. He is no amateur teen, or twenty-something, socially awkward hacker. No, Sugar Britches is battle-weary, internationally debonair and prepared for anything. He does not sleep, but is never cranky.
In past two weeks he has expanded his repertoire to include such gems as information about swans, mobility challenges in the big city, “funding” for my film making career, more detailed requests for technical support, and a myriad of posts agreeing with my political ideology, even though I cannot recall ever writing or thinking about writing a manifesto. Of course the requisite “opinions” on the use of “toys” still pop up on a daily basis, but they have been joined by weather reports, descriptions of some unnamed, bucolic countryside (Chernobyl, perhaps?), and Cyrillic, or possibly Aramaic messages, encoded for my protection. And, the question for the ages has been answered: there is a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Just send your bank account information to…
No, you may not “borrow” Sugar Britches. He is mine and I do not share. Ever. So, excuse me while I prepare him breakfast and supply him with endless cups of gourmet coffee. He’s earned it, and a private massage later.
That swan thing is deeply puzzling. Should I contact Animal Services?
Dear Spam Blocker for my Blog,
We have not formally met, but I wanted to introduce myself and thank you for your hard work.
I’m Michelle and I deeply admire your commitment to your craft.
As you know, I am not a professional blogger, and do this when the spirit moves me. Recently, the spirit has moved me to write more and more about books I have been reading. Every once in a while, I may write about politics, religion or the weather. And have. But, my preference right now is to discuss books written by talented female authors, with a decided “saucy,” adult twist to them. I hope you have enjoyed my thoughts on them, as much as I have.
Today, however, I salute YOU, Spam Blocker.
You keep randomly generated “comments” to my posts about how to market my blog – for a low price, how to increase traffic to said blog – again, for a low price, dating websites of questionable origins, shoe websites, fishing, phishing, stuff that looks like it was written by feet, unknown Asian characters and electronics, to a minimum. You filter all requests for my opinion on oil prices, cars, anti-anxiety medications, vacation packages and financing for a myriad of objects that defy reason…with low interest rates, of course, with icy precision. After you collect these gems of literature, you organize them into a folder conveniently labeled “Spam” for perusal at my leisure.
Knowing you toil tirelessly 24-hours a day, seven days a week, without requesting any vacation or sick time, makes me feel protected. A little freaked out, in an Orwellian way, but protected nonetheless.
So, THANK YOU, Spam Blocker. Your work has not gone unnoticed or unappreciated.
Your loyal friend and admirer,
P.S. I think I love you.