Monday, August 13, 2007
Spam Poetry
From Spam Poet Haywood Schmidt bwanibqa@enterpriseconferencing.com, a fan of discount Viagra. This one is more of a prose work.
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One morning, having lighted our measure ants' hook nest and put it store on board, we stood ready to start. memory As a final 'We were fatally brainy wine boat going to Goryachkin.' Foreseeing trouble, we had across arranged on the night before hook that in overdo case of a hostile move care on the part o Introductory
secretary This new doctrine was in both shone form difficult and content absolutely new to body the Jewish world in which it origin apple Humanity! Where is the definition of humanity? Where does it hour end and where expert before does it begin? Does human smoke 'Just see how you have gone astray!' drain said key the old man. 'Petrushka, go shy and open the gate!' he added, shaved hold satisfy 'It's comfortable, warm!' came a hang voice from beneath. "It shine is misspell use well known that there are many persons in the United States who risen refuse to fight on grounds of At first we terrify tried landing at night, and middle it was then that cheat gun I discovered a blanket vein of semi-anthrac
Finding plenty of hog-tracks from in saw the vicinity, hammer we decided to hunt them down fresh and cure their meat again withheld In the midst of the color elaborate religious observances of Judaism, break in which, in fought the words of Isaiah, la mind Then we stepped enthusiastic on board weary cautiously and pushed off.
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sense If carriage spare you saw the one-handed clip stone axes which are the only tools these people have with which to fell t The secretary Indians in my canoe difficult turned in-shore without a word concerned manager of warning, he said, and landed, leaving m stridden 'Should have, but didn't call manage it,' said Vasili Andreevich, holding broken kneel in the horse. This was indeed owner poor a lame story! But as events turned count out, Ambusha drown was that day our benefactor, for I a
Labels: spam, spam prose
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Spam poem of the Day
"Things Should Go Fine"
by Mitsuko Daniels
(grouped with a Viagra ad)
Prove myself fit to go up. I'm to begin the first of next month in the book-room. "It is not polite to whistle a very simple little marriage feast, every thing i know to please him, and so will sanch; he's fond of children."
We have had enough of that; women have been called queens a long time, but the "and now," announced - charity's mantle, seemed to cover a multitude of sins in other people's eyes.
Got trying to reach a honeysuckle from the vine which ran all over the porch. Of course, was not expected to take any part, but her taste was good, so all and make things jolly for his friends. I tell you we can't do without girls.
"At first, perhaps, but i am sure that under better influences Charlie will redeem himself because teddy in his care. You older boys I trust to manage yourselves for a day. Franz so, when Mrs. Sterling called point of land nearest the stranded samuel."
This opened a new world to Nat, and for she has courage, strong nerves, a tender heart, and an intense love and said Bella softly, "I accept and thank you for it, little teacher; I'll try as they did the sea-green furniture of her marine boudoir."
"But day after day, I want to pay a little debt of honour that is rather pressing," and that only made it all the jollier in the warm, bright rooms, full let alone, after gathering up the thick waves and curls into a hebe-like sort of splendor. I like to make things pretty at home, and know that what passed between them no one knew, but when they appeared her happy, they had not succeeded very well, for she was unlike any Rachel it to be sawed.
A white hat and blue feather, a muslin dress to match, and the loveliest creatures more than three times. Twice already the wicked witch had eyes filled, and when Nep, Tom's great newfoundland, came blundering - truly just, and free, and great. they were also quick to see that kindness'. every room in the big house was soon full.
And round the corner of the house rattled Ned Christie felt ready for any thing than usual, and Tom felt that he was in his proper place again. the so sternly that her wild guests saw she was not to be trifled with.
Reckoned on the untiring energy of the saw-horse, whose wooden limbs to see the crabs go sidling and backing over the bed. In bouquets, Jo browsed over the new library voraciously, and convulsed and it was mean not to tell me in time. "Will let me go with her and her mother when they do their shopping."
by Mitsuko Daniels
(grouped with a Viagra ad)
Prove myself fit to go up. I'm to begin the first of next month in the book-room. "It is not polite to whistle a very simple little marriage feast, every thing i know to please him, and so will sanch; he's fond of children."
We have had enough of that; women have been called queens a long time, but the "and now," announced - charity's mantle, seemed to cover a multitude of sins in other people's eyes.
Got trying to reach a honeysuckle from the vine which ran all over the porch. Of course, was not expected to take any part, but her taste was good, so all and make things jolly for his friends. I tell you we can't do without girls.
"At first, perhaps, but i am sure that under better influences Charlie will redeem himself because teddy in his care. You older boys I trust to manage yourselves for a day. Franz so, when Mrs. Sterling called point of land nearest the stranded samuel."
This opened a new world to Nat, and for she has courage, strong nerves, a tender heart, and an intense love and said Bella softly, "I accept and thank you for it, little teacher; I'll try as they did the sea-green furniture of her marine boudoir."
"But day after day, I want to pay a little debt of honour that is rather pressing," and that only made it all the jollier in the warm, bright rooms, full let alone, after gathering up the thick waves and curls into a hebe-like sort of splendor. I like to make things pretty at home, and know that what passed between them no one knew, but when they appeared her happy, they had not succeeded very well, for she was unlike any Rachel it to be sawed.
A white hat and blue feather, a muslin dress to match, and the loveliest creatures more than three times. Twice already the wicked witch had eyes filled, and when Nep, Tom's great newfoundland, came blundering - truly just, and free, and great. they were also quick to see that kindness'. every room in the big house was soon full.
And round the corner of the house rattled Ned Christie felt ready for any thing than usual, and Tom felt that he was in his proper place again. the so sternly that her wild guests saw she was not to be trifled with.
Reckoned on the untiring energy of the saw-horse, whose wooden limbs to see the crabs go sidling and backing over the bed. In bouquets, Jo browsed over the new library voraciously, and convulsed and it was mean not to tell me in time. "Will let me go with her and her mother when they do their shopping."
Labels: poetry, spam, spam poetry
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Spam Poetry Number 5
This one came with one of those image ads. Read the poem and see if you can guess what product was being promoted. Answer at the end.*
"Cristina"
by Shelba Karyl (madeleinenicoli@worldofbowls.com)
My soul lies cracked; and when, in its despair,
Only whirled snow heaped up by whirled snow,
Or else, like us, sunk into some long gaze
Is the moon to grow
Or else, like us, sunk into some long gaze
From point to point of meaning—open? closed?—
The bees are buzzing,
and turn it into something cartoon-funny.
That only you and I can know. Les deux
Deep in the fog that quenches every ray,
Given by nature will soak into it.
Silent patch of ultimate paint. You are
Coextensive with everything? How could they know?
Archangel Winter, darkness on his back
II. Quest and Conquest
XXI. Flying in the Arctic
Will hear the storm-blast of his clarion.
And then I go on until I am beneath an archway,
The winged winds, captives of that age-old foe
*It was with an ad for Viagra.
"Cristina"
by Shelba Karyl (madeleinenicoli@worldofbowls.com)
My soul lies cracked; and when, in its despair,
Only whirled snow heaped up by whirled snow,
Or else, like us, sunk into some long gaze
Is the moon to grow
Or else, like us, sunk into some long gaze
From point to point of meaning—open? closed?—
The bees are buzzing,
and turn it into something cartoon-funny.
That only you and I can know. Les deux
Deep in the fog that quenches every ray,
Given by nature will soak into it.
Silent patch of ultimate paint. You are
Coextensive with everything? How could they know?
Archangel Winter, darkness on his back
II. Quest and Conquest
XXI. Flying in the Arctic
Will hear the storm-blast of his clarion.
And then I go on until I am beneath an archway,
The winged winds, captives of that age-old foe
*It was with an ad for Viagra.
Labels: poem, poetry, spam, spam poetry
Monday, April 23, 2007
Spam Poetry 4
"shortcake"
by spammer Buddy Andersen, mthome@kingcrableg.com
shortcake, waffles, berries and cream
Its consciousness of my white consciousness,
This gap in time, this season not their own,
When I am heard, and what I say is solely
Yes. The obvious
He is harsh, dismal, ice—that is, exiled;
This perfection, this absence.
Only whirled snow heaped up by whirled snow,
Covering the land—
Two of us, Docteur and Madame Machin, who stand
With a hand freed from weight,
More beautiful than anything in this world.
This perfection, this absence.
And up there I cannot tell if it is still
Trampled snow is the only rose.
End of the comedy.
Wide, whited fields, a way unframed at last
By bloody pool—rattling, gasping his last.
Shadows keep piling up as surfaces
by spammer Buddy Andersen, mthome@kingcrableg.com
shortcake, waffles, berries and cream
Its consciousness of my white consciousness,
This gap in time, this season not their own,
When I am heard, and what I say is solely
Yes. The obvious
He is harsh, dismal, ice—that is, exiled;
This perfection, this absence.
Only whirled snow heaped up by whirled snow,
Covering the land—
Two of us, Docteur and Madame Machin, who stand
With a hand freed from weight,
More beautiful than anything in this world.
This perfection, this absence.
And up there I cannot tell if it is still
Trampled snow is the only rose.
End of the comedy.
Wide, whited fields, a way unframed at last
By bloody pool—rattling, gasping his last.
Shadows keep piling up as surfaces
Labels: poem, spam, spam poetry
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Whither art spam poetry?
So I've been getting this spam poetry for a while, and I've only now gotten the idea of where it comes from.It turns out that due to increasingly sophisticated spam filtering software spam marketers are required to think up more and more creative ways of getting spam past the filter and into your inbox. Spam filters rely partially on keywords to parse out spam messages - for example a message containing the word "viagra" and very few other non-spam words would be certain to go to your spam filter.
To get past these obnoxious roadblocks, spammers moved to image based spam - embedding their message into an icon that a spam filter wouldn't be able to read.
But then the images started getting blocked.
Now they accompany the image with some ambiguous text, best left up to English PhDs and Milton scholars to interpret.
According to Zeek:
"The reason spam is couched in nonsense-text has to do with statistical methods devised by the 18th century English theologian-mathematician Thomas Bayes. Bayesian filters rank each word in an email according to how likely it is to be spam. If the email contains a high number of non-spam words, it can elude such filters."
So now we've gotten to the point where it's impossible to tell the art apart from the sales pitch. Who is writing what we are reading? A computer? And more importantly who is buying what they're selling? We may now be at the point where spam poetry has transcended the sales pitch and is an art form in and of itself. When marketers realize it isn't working, and the subsequent crackdown on spam art happens, will there be a La Boheme-esque art riot in the virtual street? Time will tell.
Labels: poem, poetry, spam, spam poetry
Spam Poetry Part 3
Another poem I received today, encased in Spam
"What is There in the Depths of These Walls"
by Sheldon Hayes
to matter, for the flushed boys are muscular
And still my mind goes groping in the mud to bring
Along the walls are only empty niches,
Pallid waste where no radiant fathomers,
X. The British Attack on the Arctic
Through the back of the picture at the patch of white
Clear-voiced despite its years, strong, eloquent—
Against this sky no longer of our world.
From there. Toward . . .
It's snowing, it's returning to a town
Side of the painting, the world of that wise, white,
And then I go on until I am beneath an archway,
Yes. You'd want that said, (if you
Covering the land—
Of the matter of snow here. Both of us have grasped
By trees—or might see as the masonry
Writhing their stunted limbs,
Against which we have been projected? What . . .
What is there in the depths of these walls
"What is There in the Depths of These Walls"
by Sheldon Hayes
to matter, for the flushed boys are muscular
And still my mind goes groping in the mud to bring
Along the walls are only empty niches,
Pallid waste where no radiant fathomers,
X. The British Attack on the Arctic
Through the back of the picture at the patch of white
Clear-voiced despite its years, strong, eloquent—
Against this sky no longer of our world.
From there. Toward . . .
It's snowing, it's returning to a town
Side of the painting, the world of that wise, white,
And then I go on until I am beneath an archway,
Yes. You'd want that said, (if you
Covering the land—
Of the matter of snow here. Both of us have grasped
By trees—or might see as the masonry
Writhing their stunted limbs,
Against which we have been projected? What . . .
What is there in the depths of these walls
Labels: poem, poetry, spam, spam poetry
Saturday, April 21, 2007
New Spam poetry!
"MIT or Princeton"
by spammer Hanna libunao
The result was, when guys at MIT or Princeton
had trouble doing a certain integral,
it was because they couldn't do it
with the standard methods they had learned in school.
by spammer Hanna libunao
The result was, when guys at MIT or Princeton
had trouble doing a certain integral,
it was because they couldn't do it
with the standard methods they had learned in school.
Jason stared at Richards, expecting support,
but Richards merely smiled.
but Richards merely smiled.
They all unpack into the subdirectory bigforth.
He occasionally professed concern for her,
and a few times,
something akin to affection.
and a few times,
something akin to affection.
You still don't understand.
Well, bury him, and bury me the next.
Gets the row type.
See checked Set default expression evaluation to checked (or unchecked).
Making a backup of your system is also advisable.
The result was, when guys at MIT or Princeton
had trouble doing a certain integral,
it was because they couldn't do it
with the standard methods they had learned in school.
