Meyer

Every once in a while I have to take a good, hard look in the mirror because the things that I find amusing are the same things most people classify as odd or annoying. Don't worry, I'll give you an example.

A few weeks ago, my slow and antiquated computer was replaced by a shiny new one. I had to reconfigure my E-mail and I set up a junk mail filter in the process. Let's face it, spam is out of control, and I thought I was finally securing my place in the 21st century by selecting this option. I quickly realized that I almost made the biggest mistake of my life.

The first week was great. No unsolicited correspondence touting the newest software deals, almost no letters from managers of banks I've never heard of trying to get me to update my personal information or funnel money into my account, and, best of all, zero offers for discount natural male enhancing pharmaceuticals. Then one day an automated feature notified me that the mail filter had collected some junk. My curiosity got the best of me, and I decided to open up the folder and see what I was missing. The subject lines were all familiar, but the names of the correspondents made me laugh out loud. In a clever attempt at disguise, the spam masters are actually producing some interesting pseudonyms. I discovered that I had completely taken these E-mail for granted and missed out on some of the best yucks of my day.

Let me share a few with you now. Note that the true addresses have been omitted to conceal the guilty.

"Reproductive B. Policemen" felt the need to notify me of the cheapest prices on sildenafil citrate.

"Squirrel J. Tablecloth" the secrets to bring back a lost love.

"Hepatitis U. Value" offered name-brand software at close to 90 per cent off.

Some of the other names that captured my attention and fueled my imagination were Innuendos B. Latticework, Anaconda D. Headlight, Alcoholism B. Hallucinogen, Irreparable Hostage, Nihilists U. Heretic, Terrifyingly K. Muckraked and Overemphazises S. Gestation.

Call it sophomoric, but I'm now inclined to at least browse through the junk bin on my way to the trash can. If it's true that one man's trash is another man's treasure, I'd guess you might find me dumpster diving on the shoulder of the Information Superhighway.