Dayum! You shoulda made promises! That was brilliant.
But if I could add one couplet:
They came without dildos, they came without porn,
They came without grumpledly zooza popcorn
Once upon a download dreary while I pondered, weak and weary
Over many a pornographic e-mail of penile lore
While I read it, nearly napping, suddenly some more came tapping
Nigerian scam and political trapping, rapping at my email door
“'tis a passing thing” I muttered “rapping at my email door.
Only this, and nothing more.”
Ah, unfondly I remember it was far from bleak November
And the names of Pubbie members wrote their names on spam galore.
Eagerly I thought "Tomorrow, there’ll be none of this to harrow
me and mine, damned to mailing lists forever more
damned to mailing lists by someone, damned to them forevermore
and no recourse evermore.”
But, undying, came the feeling as I stared up to the ceiling
thinking “this, of all, might not be on Bad Al Gore.”
I gave it a passing thought, thinking “what more now could they have wrought?”
Hoping it was email knocking nicely, nicely at the door.
Surely it was well-meant email knocking nicely at the door;
Only this, and nothing more.
Then at once the urge got stronger; opened I the email wand’rer
"Hopefully this will be not be more of what I’d feared had been in store.
I have not been wholly trustful; now I see my heart is lustful-
lustful for the speaking of politicos of days of yore.
Quite surprised me with your tapping, tapping at my email door.
‘Spam’, thought I, and nothing more!”
Deep into that email reading, long I sat and read, eyes bleeding,
hoping what I’d feared would not be as I’d feared it long before.
But the promise was not held by him who’d said “Eva, you’ve telled
the FEC you won’t allow illegal funds for Kerry’s store!”
“Illegal funds for Kerry’s store?” This I said and nothing more?
Merely this, and nothing more?
Back I went into my coffee, flavored with some English toffee,
But again I saw that email looming larger than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely not is email pressing like this hot
delicious cup of coffee sitting on my desk, for me in store.
…Surely drink can wait a minute for this email - what a snore.
Tis some spam and nothing more.”
Opened I the email now, and to the screen it gave a bow
In stepped Spammie Spammer (no politico days of yore).
Not the least sense made or missed, he did not hug, he did not kiss
But proclaimed to me “Illegal funds in Kerry’s store!”
Crowed vociferously o’er my tape of “Lehrer Sings Some More”
Crowed and crowed and nothing more.
And here I thought the time on this machine was accurate. Four more stanzas, then (7 left to do):
Crowed this spam to make me lustful, shamed that I had been so trustful
Trustful for politicos, politicos of days of yore.
"Thou art not as thou hast said; truly have mine eyes now bled
red and white and blue from pointless ‘illegal funds in Kerry’s store!’
Tell me now who sent you from the Pubbie lands of ‘Bad Al Gore!’”
…”illegal funds in Kerry’s store!”
Deep my wish for less of Spammie, more for honest messages sent me
Though I could not help but notice “such the simple anthem o’er
There between the lines of text and dreck; do not trust the dems’ old lines.”
Nor would I be quite so trustful when my heart was full of lustful
Longing for good men and women, politicos of days of yore.
…”illegal funds in Kerry’s store!”
But this spam, without remorse, spoke of funds without divorce
From message, point or phrase or any other thought in store.
Nothing else did that text offer, no more truth or point it proffer
‘til I pointed out “I have heard this drek before.
Soon enough it will cease and I will have it nevermore.
…”illegal funds in Kerry’s store!”
Spoke again it did and wondered did I “Will it yet end?
Will this piece of wretched spam yet exit without saying more?”
Lept it from its window now and saw it fit to yet endow
Me with yet another message from within its Spammie store.
Still it spoke and carried always that one line of partisan lore;
…”illegal funds for Kerry’s store!”
Sat I there and reasoned out, thought I there beyond a doubt
Looking at that Pubbie Spam still goading me, no reason more.
”How could I have been so trustful? Know I know my heart was lustful
Lustful for politicos of the olden days of yore
Wishing, wanting, dreaming of politicos of days of yore.
…”illegal funds in Kerry’s store!”
“SPAM!” I cried out, pressed just then the button I had clicked to send
this blasted piece of spam sent from those who cried aloud “That Bad Al Gore!”
“I would not, could not vote for Bush, but to the polling place I rush
to vote for Kerry and his funds, with spite for you and yours galore!
I’ll not have any of this spam any other pubbie lore!”
…“illegal funds in Kerry’s store!”
“Blasted wretch!” cried I, “you devil spam, do you know now just who I am?
I am a democrat to the bone, no pubbie now, nor friend of your!
What your purpose on this morn, other than to Kerry scorn
Who hath done no wrong by me, as I know what he has in store!
How much more wrong could you be, who know not what he has in store?
…”illegal funds in Kerry’s store!”
“Hellspawn Spam!” accused I, “must you always thus reply?
By my sanity I swear you know not what for you I store!
If but my delete would work, look you would upon my smirk
And see your message sent to similar filthy trash forever more.
You’ll inhabit, for this gambit, my trash can forever more!
… “illegal funds in Kerry’s store!”
Just Soros, the evil billionaire? No hordes of unbathed gay hippies, spitting on our returning Heroes? No cigar-chomping corrupt labor bosses, sworn enemies of the small businessman and the entreprenuerial spirit? No sniveling peaceniks, eager to hand over our freedoms at the first harsh word? No pampered elite college kids and thier lefty professors, sneering at the earnest patriotic citizens who form the vast majority of decent, God-fearing Americans, while doing thier best to avoid service to thier…hmmmmm, maybe that last might best be left off.
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by spammers.
Howl!
Because I would not give by phone,
The begging came by mail,
It came in by electron
and it came in via snail.
A brand-new crisis every week
Without me, bound to fail.
They all say so, and so it MUST be true.