Dear Kid,

Last night I decided to look at the comment spam on

DDear Spammers, Go Away. No One Wants You. Not Now, Not Ever.

I’m pretty good about emptying the spam folder, but nonetheless there were some pretty “interesting” comments to entertain me.

Dear Spammers:

Your messages go directly to the spam filter (do not pass Go, do not collect $200) so please don’t bother. Since this is the first—and probably last—time I’m going to read any spam messages, and since I Most Assuredly will not ever (emphasis on Not Ever) respond to any of them, it is a colossal Waste of Your Time.

Thank you.

Apparently, I (or mayhap my readers) are in desperate need of fake Air Jordans, writing tips, makeup, and tips to make this site better (because while it’s good, it could be ever so much more donchaknow).

All of this is nothing compared to the spam I get in my email (because I have one email account that has the Worst Spam Filter Ever). If those folk are to be believed (and they are not) I need loans (many of them), life insurance, car insurance, whiter teeth, drapes, credit cards, surgery, medication, electronics, to earn a degree, to lose weight, to go on a rivercruise, and to Just Click Here. Not to mention the opportunities to date, mate, and leave it all to fate.

Dear Spammers,

Don’t you do any research on your target market? Ever?

If these marketing geniuses want to reach me, they should be emailing me about shoes that make coffee, or coffee-makers with high heels. Or possibly about ways to pay for my Kid’s college tuition. I’m really not that complicated a person. But no, they focus on the uber-sexy category of life insurance.

Yeah. I’m going to spontaneously go for that one. Not.

In other news, did I tell you I’ve inherited money from a long-lost relative who just happens to be a Nigerian prince?

Love, Mom