I wish I was bigger and had more money
One of the nice things about the Yahoo! mail system is the way it segregates most spam into a Bulk mail file, so I don't have to think about it every day. Clearing it out today, I find the things they think may entice me interesting.
"Are you satisfied with the size of your breasts?" is one subject line, but the more ubiquitous enlargement problem seems to be about males and a bit south of the chest. Somebody has to be buying all of this Viagra and Cialis, perhaps attracted by those warnings of how dangerous it is to "be ready" for your woman for four hours at a time.
I win a European lottery several times a day, and widows of Nigerian princes and corrupt politicians are constantly trying to contact me to share their husbands' estate. And the job offers I ignore! I could make a fortune sitting at my computer doing - something, I don't know what, because I foolishly ignore the e-mail when opportunity knocks.
Judging from these enticements, I conclude that the males of our species are obsessed with worry that our mates are disappointed when we come prepared with something smaller than a 2-liter bottle, and the females fear they've let their mates down by offering something smaller than medicine balls to bury our faces in. When they're not offering the tools to improve our sex lives, spammers count on the desire to be financially independent and free from the wage-slave job - oh, many's the time they've got me there, if only they had an authentic something to offer.
Sometimes I have just a twinge of regret when I click "Check All" and then "Delete," but it's also sort of cleansing to clear out the Bulk box. It means I have decided to be OK with who I am, what I do and what I have for another few days, resisting the temptation to turn my money over to false promises. The empty box is my challenge to myself that I'll try to improve my life the hard way, the honest way, by creating something of value to offer and exchange.
Some mornings, though, I really do wish there was a rich widow waiting on the other side of that click ...
"Are you satisfied with the size of your breasts?" is one subject line, but the more ubiquitous enlargement problem seems to be about males and a bit south of the chest. Somebody has to be buying all of this Viagra and Cialis, perhaps attracted by those warnings of how dangerous it is to "be ready" for your woman for four hours at a time.
I win a European lottery several times a day, and widows of Nigerian princes and corrupt politicians are constantly trying to contact me to share their husbands' estate. And the job offers I ignore! I could make a fortune sitting at my computer doing - something, I don't know what, because I foolishly ignore the e-mail when opportunity knocks.
Judging from these enticements, I conclude that the males of our species are obsessed with worry that our mates are disappointed when we come prepared with something smaller than a 2-liter bottle, and the females fear they've let their mates down by offering something smaller than medicine balls to bury our faces in. When they're not offering the tools to improve our sex lives, spammers count on the desire to be financially independent and free from the wage-slave job - oh, many's the time they've got me there, if only they had an authentic something to offer.
Sometimes I have just a twinge of regret when I click "Check All" and then "Delete," but it's also sort of cleansing to clear out the Bulk box. It means I have decided to be OK with who I am, what I do and what I have for another few days, resisting the temptation to turn my money over to false promises. The empty box is my challenge to myself that I'll try to improve my life the hard way, the honest way, by creating something of value to offer and exchange.
Some mornings, though, I really do wish there was a rich widow waiting on the other side of that click ...
Labels: The 600th post
posted by B.W. Richardson at
7:25 AM
2 Comments:
:-) I'll never forget what was probably one of the defining moments of my sex life: A young woman next to whom I was lying and with whom I had just shared what I believed was a mutually pleasurable experience, said to me, "I like yours. Big ones hurt."
Uh...thank you?
And thanks so much for bringing that trauma back to mind. Yeah, bulk mail folder good. Which reminds me; I should go see how much free Nigerian money somebody's offering me today...
That is weird, I just posted about spam messages, too..
What, you DON'T want to be a muscle bound, hairy, long-donged sex machine?
What the hell is wrong with you?!?!
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