Spambots: More Hateful Than The Average Pedophile

Spam always feels vaguely threatening even when you know they’re non-personal messages generated by bots. Maybe it’s because those bots were made by humans. Humans I hate more than bank robbers and pedophiles combined.

Spam is more than annoying. It is a crime against privacy. And I am one of those people who guard my personal space fiercely. I invite people openly into my space; but if you’re not invited, Stay The Fuck Out.

That’s just the irksome factor though. The threat factor comes from the spam machine feeling like just that - a machine. This thing is attacking you and you Don’t Know Why. Nevermind that you are simply one of a hundred or thousand getting stupid shit in your inbox or alerts; nevermind that spam has existed since the age of AOL and Hotmail (and not forgetting paper Junk Mail). It still arouses that powerful feeling of nausea, hatred and intrusion.

We can physically weed out the trash that comes in between our bills and letters. And adjust the Spam Filter settings on our email inbox to make all penis enhancement ads invisible. But many social networks do not as of yet have a proper bot detector; so till then, we will occasionally be barraged by a faceless, nameless army of cold-blooded privacy killers.

Be very afraid.

Disclaimer: The post title is a strict generalization and is inapplicable to pedophiles who indulge in rape, molestation and acts severely traumatizing to children. It does, however, suggest that spambot creators be placed in the same jail cell as them.

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Sincerely

i wonder if I should give this whole Attractive Female thing a try.

As in...feminine, nice hair, heels, the whole works. Or at least a more girly-esque version of what I'm rocking now.

Not anything overt or trying too hard. Just something different.

And other times,

well,

other times I don't give a fuck.

Yeah, you know what, screw it. Nikki Sixx wore lipstick in the 80s and was a chick magnet. Steven Tyler wears grandma scarves and looks smokin' hot. Pink has man-abs and a boycut, and couldn't be sexier.

Fuck you self-doubt.

There's no point in pretending for someone. I am very much attracted to him. But I'm not gonna change for him. So what if I do manage to hook him initially? How long will I play-act? No, man. Screw that.

I have always lived sincerely. And I always will in as much as I can help it.


-

Trying to get it right

I should be working. I got jobs screaming at me like a two-year-old tantrum-throwing motherfucker in the supermarket aisle.

Instead I'm one inch away from crying and I hate it.

By the way, I've noticed this default position I adopt when I'm feeling screwed up or just don't know what to do with myself. If I have a table or desk in front of me -- which I do now -- I go into a sort of foetal position. Or the sitting equivalent, anyway. Forearms close together, pressed on the desk edge, body hunched forward, head down and my hands clasping my mouth and nose.

It's a little like Rodin's Thinker, but without the grace and panache. A pensive and decidedly anti-social stance that says Go Away, I'm Thinking Dark Wiggly Neurotic Thoughts. No doubt the Thinker was being more philosophical than neurotic when he adopted that famed pose; but anyway. He sure as hell wasn't humming a Care Bear tune, judging by that frown.

It takes a load of facial muscles to frown. And I should really be conserving my energy for something more useful -- like, say, work. Y'know, the stuff that paid for the quality leather jacket I'm wearing.

But before that, I just need to get this out of my head. Else I'll just fritter away the entire bloody day thinking gloomy foetal thoughts.

~

Sit here on the stairs
'Cause I'd rather be alone
If I can't have you right now, I'll wait
Sometimes I get so tense,
But I can't speed up the time
But you know, there's one more thing to consider

I've been walking these streets at night
Just trying to get it right
It's hard to see with so many around
You know I don't like being stuck in a crowd
And the streets don't change but maybe the name
I ain't got time for the game
'Cause I need you
Well, I need you


--

Lately

i am scattered.

my head is everywhere and nowhere. my thoughts are neurons blown apart from their nucleus like so much dandelion fluff.

i need an anchor. i need a single thought or act to hold my day together. before i lose it altogether.

sometimes i frighten myself. although this is nothing new. i have always been a freak - to myself and to others. some people learn to love me for it (or despite it). some find it charming a few are just scared off. not that i need to care about those.

still, it would be nice to be somewhat normal for a day. (or subnormal. is that an acceptable state of mind?)

let me be grounded, even as i dream.

let my next recollection be more than a shattered memory.

let me stop stumbling.