Dec 7, 2006


We all hate SPAM, I think we can agree on that. (Not the meat substitute, the email.)

As SPAM filters have improved, naturally the SPAMmers have improved their tactics. I currrently receive up to 50 junk emails a day, almost none of which my ever-more-complex email Rules And Filters option can ever catch. Here of late these would-be advertisers have taken to including huge chunks of text from classic literature to fool filters into thinking that the body of the message is not junk but actual human conversation, and tricks like using common names and the "Re:" or "Fwd:" prefix in the email subject line.

Well, today's one piece beat them all, and gave me a hugh laugh to boot.

The email had an attachment. First red flag. Then, the subject line said "Warning, this might offend you." Naturally, my attention was piqued. Not only was it words, it was words that made sense together. But still, second red flag. My response? Check the sender field.

And that's where it all fell apart. The sender's name was "Trouser Snake."

--Original Message--
From: Trouser Snake
Re: Warning, this might offend you
Attachment: abc.exe
Sent: 12/06/06 12:34pm

Now, far be it from me to help current and would-be SPAMmers in their offensive task of email bombing every computer-savy person in the world, but I would think that in the Big Book Of How To SPAM People, the first rule would be:

1) Don't EVER use the words "trouser" or "snake" in your fake sender's name field.

I didn't open it, but you know, I really wanted to, just to see if I WOULD be offended. And to see what sort of horrible people would name their son "Trouser." Do these people have other kids? Does Mister Trouser Snake have a sister named "One Eyed?" Or an older brother named "Lowdown Dirty?"


Anonymous said...

I'm Sandra,
from Yemen,
and I'm 21 y.o

Hi, All
I've studied English sinse this Summer .
It's very!
I want like to meet handsome gays and girls and practisice My English with them.

Thank You

Trouser Snake said...

Incease yur pennis sise!

Free info/sampls!

"Laney," Blackwell said, dropping a hand on Laney's shoulder and twirling him into the gaze of a pair of long green eyes, "this is Rez. Rez, Colin Laney. He's working with Arleigh."

Laney noticed something about the musician that he knew from other encounters with celebs: that binary flicker in his mind between image and reality, between the mediated face and the face there in front of you. He'd noticed how it always seemed to speed up, that alternation, until the two somehow merged, the resulting composite becoming your new idea of the person. (Someone had told him that it had been clinically proven that celebrity-recognition was handled by one particular area in the brain, but he'd never been sure whether or not they were joking.)

"Mr. Laney, good evening." It was Yamazaki, in a green plaid sportscoat that sat oddly on his narrow shoulders. He blinked rapidly.

Irrelephant said...

Oh. My. Gawd.

I swear, there's gonna be repercusssions.