Spam Poetry

By Vladimir Brezina

As surely as a flame attracts moths, a comment box attracts spam—with pretty much the same results. WordPress has an excellent spam filter that kills most spam outright. But occasionally it presents a particularly delectable piece of spam, under quarantine, for our enjoyment.

These spam comments, which the filter has quarantined but not killed outright presumably because it’s not quite sure whether they are spam or not, have a distinctive tone. They are, indeed, like real comments—but from some kind of mad dream.

Here’s a great specimen:

I want to express thanks to this writer for bailing me out of such a scenario. Right after looking through the search engines and obtaining advice which are not pleasant, I was thinking my life was done. Living minus the solutions to the problems you have solved through your main article content is a critical case, as well as ones that might have adversely affected my entire career if I had not come across your website. Your good training and kindness in maneuvering the whole lot was valuable. I am not sure what I would have done if I had not come across such a stuff like this. It’s possible to at this time look ahead to my future. Thanks very much for this reliable and results-oriented guide. I won’t hesitate to endorse your blog post to anyone who should have tips about this topic.

This is clearly spam in its all-purpose vagueness. But beyond that, one does wonder. Was it written by a human using an English As She Is Spoke-like phrasebook? Or by a computer emulating a psychiatric patient? Or a computer simply doing its best to sound human but using machine translation, multiple rounds of which can convert “I regret I have but one life to give for my country” into “Unfortunately, I live in China”? Or perhaps by a Surrealist poet or an online conceptual performance artist?

In any case, strangeness, novelty, and unpredictability are the keys to getting past Bayesian spam filters. And, by being strange enough to provoke these thoughts in me, this piece of spam has made it—albeit disarmed of its payload of dangerous links—all the way to you, the reader of this blog, after all!

2 responses to “Spam Poetry

  1. Here’s another piece of surreal prose that just arrived:

    “floor safety is a lot much more critical for larger automobiles these kinds of as vans. As mentioned prior to individuals that have large vehicles possibly us them for business purposes or perhaps for other dirty hobbies this kind of as heading mudding in them. Taking care of your truck is like taking care of a pet this kind of as a dog, you hold it clean, preserve up the upkeep on it, get the oil alterations frequently, you get my stage. So why would you not purchase substantial excellent ground lining for your truck? Most folks do since it is just one particular of the major necessities that are very considered. You will possibly devote a whole lot of time driving your truck which indicates that if you don’t have them, your carpet in your car can corrode effortlessly and will depart your carpet ruined. It is not virtually as merely or effortlessly doable to transform the carpet in your car; as soon as it’s messed up you have to deal with it so this is one more reason why you really should make investments in some excessive high quality floor mats.”

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  2. And if James Joyce (in his Finnegans Wake period) were to team up with Ezra Pound (With Usura) and a couple of surrealist poets to write on the subject of Cialis—which they well might!—they might produce something like this:

    “And cialis became from the mighty or next pas of own cher that kept enough to his eyes but both limits for the colleagues into the plaice took to come sisters attempting in his skin of umbrella. Cialis was. The more particular. Them slid he. The cialis pas was pointing of the cher never like an seats set to the damage. Cialis is then satisfied. Cialis turned the pas. A cialis generous pas had in a cher and lowered to halfway. Cialis had cropped up all pas and had grown the red same cher in to look the matter was from my magazine. Of, the cialis large as right pas. Underwater along feared at sidelong a air. Cialis passed glad of having the pas would still smile cher overtown. Five – one, cialis. One – eight lungs behind the cialis pas, cher was looted of this something, bringing hands for white is at hard nights, and warning seamen whose artifacts said whipping legs and he’s. Cialis you lost left without who he had, and there was pas to do but flourish. A cialis was headlong, still between pas might imagine dismissed you that cher. The perceives the cialis of a tired pas cher. Because the upraised cialis, you felt futile pas from cher and his time.”

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