So I don't get regular spam, full of asterisks and "enlargement," and enough exclamation points to make your average MTV veejay choke on his endless plastic tape reel of enthusiasm.
I get literary spam.
I imagine that some major company's over-eager unpaid intern got smart and thought, okay, sure, Gmail highlights our stuff with a pretty telling "'*Spam?*" but at least it leaves a question mark in the reader's mind... If we can just hire languishing scrub writers to make that first preview line as compelling as a b-grade fantasy novel, people will totally make the click of faith, email us back, beg us for the second installment, and that's when we'll surprise them with a heaping suprise helping of ***BUYtt OURXXX V1AGRA!!!!!*** Itts a fo1prof pln!!!
At least, I assume that's the background for the stylistic gem of an email preview I received a few minutes ago:
"Dat what give her her powah. There was a calf, and a thigh, and then a sickening bunch in the middle that looked like a salt-dome."
See, at this point, We're confused with a side of interest... almost clicking, not quite sure of ourselves. Lingering. Our brains whirl. Thighs. Calves. Are we talking about chicken? Cows? Women? Is the narrator a white guy masquerading as a nonsensical rap DJ, thereby explaining the variance in tone? What IS a salt-dome? Is it located around the kneecap? Or in a KFC bucket, perhaps? What in the world is "dat," and how does it provide her with the essential "powah?"
*click*
"Annie didnt care for it at all. Pry open the medicine cabinet door and then just knock a bunch of stuff out into the basin. When she straightened up she was holding the axe from the shed in one hand and a propane torch in the other. She giggled like a child at the jokes on M*A*S*H* and WKRP, laughing especially hard at the jokes which were mildly off-color (which, in the case of WKRP, was most of them."
Ok, so immediate disappointment. Unless Annie isn't caring for the SALT-DOME, which MAY OR MAY NOT have given her "powah," none of our prior questions have been answered. However, we do have a pretty exemplary characterization that would have made my AP English teacher cry. And look at that style. No more ebonics, guys. It's breezy, it fits Annie, who doesn't care for "it" at all, much like the author doesn't care about the strenuous, grasping restraints of proper grammar and punctuation. She's knocking stuff in the basin! Not caring! She's wielding axes and propane torches in CONJUCTION! But she's got a softer side... giggling like a child at old, very cancelled cast-esemble TV shows ( one of which was not funnier than NewsRadio )! We love Annie! She's just like us!
Oh, wait, TWIST! Annie, that dirty, axe wielding, stuff-knocker -- she's laughing at the OFF-COLOR jokes. We judge Annie. We hope her salt-dome of powah dissolves.
We shift on our high horses and continue reading.
"The picture was of a flowered meadow and the month said May, but Paul kept his own dates now on a piece of scrap paper, and according to his home-made calendar it was June 21. "Ive got your paper, Paul!"
Ooh, nice scene change, scrub-author! Suddenly, we're transported into a new, axe-free world, with a hardworking do-it-yourselfer who honorably eschews the flowered meadows of the bourgeois for scraps and NEVER EVER knocks stuff, even when pressed. Paul probably watches Price Is Right at home with his grandmother on Monday mornings while he teaches her new knitting patterns and sits comfortably in a plush doiley-covered plum la-z-boy, retaining his masculinity. He gets all kinds of girls.
But now someone has his paper... someone excited... and we're all wondering who, hoping its not some kind of enemy, hoping Annie DirtyJokely isn't outside his homemade door with her propane torch, threatening his paper...
On pins and basins, we arrive at the thrilling conclusion:
"Because you wouldnt respect me in the morning, he thought of saying, and clamped down on that. She had told no one he was here, and if she hadnt by now, that meant she didnt mean to."
Ok, ok, okay. WHAT?! Paul? Is he retaining his self-respect? Or is he giving up his life? She's HOLDING A TORCH, PAUL! SAVE YOURSELF. What is he clamping? Is he clamping Annie's powah-filled salt-dome? Say it isn't so! Wait, no, Paul... he wouldn't do that... he loves to knit. Granted, she's insane, but... they couldn't have been together, could they? We worry. Surely they would never.. it's Paul, after all, but... she knows where he lives, and she hadn't told anyone he was here. And didn't mean to. And she has his paper! His paper... his calendar! It's all he stands for! What, is she his caregiver? Is this some sort of strange spin-off of Benny and Joon, rated NC-17 for "craaaaazy?" WHAT WILL BECOME OF THEM?
We're left without answers, only a cryptic attached .gif entitled "dallas.65:"
[ yes, this is the .gif. it doesn't show up in the email either. ]
Upon careful inspection, it appears to be a shot of two eyes (one green, one blue ) and a particularly full, rosebud of a mouth superimposed on a piece of scrap paper representing Paul's soul.
It's torn.
Oh, Paul.
We now know that the the "it" Annie didn't care about was you. She thought of you as an OBJECT, Paul! You were worth more than that. So you had beautiful eyes and beautiful full lips....that didn't mean she could forget your SOUL! We mourn for you. It's all so clear now. Annie, that base giggler, has taken I-65 to Dallas, having destroyed you, the hardworking crafter that we had come to love for your meadow abstention and hardy, good-time-oldies self-respect. We hope you clamped her salt-dome but good.
And hey, Paul? We'll make sure your grandmother finishes that afghan. We promise.
. . .
ETA: Apologies to all of you who saw this post earlier and weren't running Mozilla... The picture part should make more sense now. I forgot that IE has a different "no picture" icon
Comments (33)
Laughter is healthy.
You have just added three years to my life.
"Dat what give her her powah. There was a calf, and a thigh, and then a sickening bunch in the middle that looked like a salt-dome."
Definitely KFC. And that probably would have made Mrs. L shed tears too.
shhh dont tell jon (but you definitely are the one who makes me laugh all the time)
< if i get in trouble...its all your fault >
....i will soon reget posting this to you. lol.
you are the heat to my sauna.
you are the chlorine to my pool.
I'll come up with more...I could write a poem with these!
and I miss you, too. But I'll be half the distance from you this year. drive halfway = me see Jen this year. neh?
here's to surviving and being excited.
It almost seems as though the literary spam takes less thinking to compose than the regular spam.
http://it.slashdot.org/it/06/08/09/1523207.shtml
I think they feel sorry for me because I'm sick.
On Sawyer- yeah, I can see that. Every once in a while his cocky grin melts my heart, but then I hate myself for liking him and the sparkly magic moment is gone with a flick of his really awesome hair.
And YES and AMEN on your Jack sentiments. Preach it, sister.