SPAM, SPAM, BEANS AND SPAM
If human ingenuity has made one great achievement in the Third Millennium of Enlightenment, I think we can all agree that said crowning glory is spam.
What finer example could there be that we have, as a species, finally reached the peak of greed, gullibility and orthographical incontinence toward which we have been striving since God (spoiler: it wasn't God) put us on this clean (spoiler: it ain't clean no more) Earth?
150 billion spam emails every single day, half of all the matter peristaltically pumped around our bloated digital gut. No fewer than 30 for every single email user from Anchorage to Antarctica via Addis Ababa and Ulan Bator.
Never mind the quality, feel the width.
But, hey! Feel the quality as well. This is top-notch stuff. Charmingly formatted, exquisitely spelled and intelligently targeted. I swear that before I hit the age of 40, I had never been even gently palpated by any of those 'Your prostate is now the size of a grapefruit — eat this one weird food to zap it back to size' missives from beyond.
As soon as I hit middle age, the proctors of proctology suddenly had my number. As well as my email address and probably my inside leg measurement. They must have learned One Simple Trick That Data Scientists Just Can't Believe.
Of late, I fear, in an all-time first for humanity, the cops have been getting smarter than the robbers. They probably Ate These Six Superfoods to Boost Their Brain Power in Seconds. Whatever the reason, the once gushing spate of spam has slowed to a grapefruit-obstructed trickle.
Could the supreme testament to the finely honed genius of the Homo genus be at risk?
Luckily not, it would fear. The ineffable qualities of prime spam have instead been fluffed and buffed for even more precision delivery. Gone is the relatively crude carpet-bombing of yore, to be replaced by Smart Spamming 4.0.
As demonstrated by this outstanding specimen hand-delivered to the comments bar on an article of mine this very morning, by one Elliot Behitha (whose name is coincidentally an anagram of Blithe Hate Oil).
Do you know you can remotely access your cheating spouses' phone and generate deleted text messages (as far back as 2 years) without touching the device? Reach out to him on WhatsApp,text or call +18182766123 and email (cyberhackingsage6@gmail)for any hacking issues…WhatsApp, iCloud unlock and social media recovery. With this you can know who truly your partner is or get genuine information for your divorce.
I was initially a little taken aback by such a blunt instrument approach. It seemed that the spammer was assuming that a spousal 'him' in my life might have been cuckolding me, potentially for the last two years. They weren't even customising their offering for each potential client based on gender and sexuality? Spamateurs!
It was only then that I realised the 'him' in question was apparently an object pronoun plucked at random from the box marked 'grammatical odds and ends'.
Or perhaps referred to the Devious Doctor of Device Detection whose divorce-triggering services Ms Hate Oil so smoothly promotes.
In fact, they had me bang to rights.
I was indeed obsessed with 'cheating', as revealed by the headline of my original story. No matter that the subject in question was AI-assisted high school homework assignments rather than marital infidelity. The laser-guided sights of self-proclaimed Cyber Hacking Sage 6 (never deal with the other 5 — they're chumps) had homed in on me as the specific recipient of this bespoke message.
Clearly smarter cookies than I had initially taken them for — I'd better take another look at what they had to say.
The first thing that struck me was the bizarre household set-up suggested by "your spouses' phone". So plural spouses but singular phone? To be fair, if I had been keeping several concubines and cruelly allowing them but one phone between them, that would surely be grounds for playing away from home once in a while, right? If only for the chance to scroll TikTok without all the other spouses poking their fingers in.
Still, it might be worth checking up on them.
I was particularly impressed by the staggering claim that this could be done "without touching the device".
Like, mind-blowing, man!
All previous hackers I'd ever heard of would need to pull on a black balaclava and spandex bodysuit, sneak into the bedroom/office/spousecave of their target, and insert a complex array of naked copper cables into various modem ports.
Yet this guy could get the info without even touching it? Must be from Krypton by way of Gallifrey. Truly impressive. With a lower case 'i'.
But what finally convinced to phone the mysteriously country code-less +18182766123 and send an email to '@gmail' (putting a .com in email addresses is so prehistorically last century!) was the offer of 'social media recovery'.
Perhaps of all the proffered services, that's what the world needs right now. Sage 6 is pulling on their cage fight leotard as we speak, and is ready to save the planet.
I urge you to call them! For humanity's sake!
For further supposedly humorous punctuation pedantry: