1. "You are Dead". - well if this is true and you are still sending me the email that raises two possibilities. I am a ghost or I am a zombie. Although I have to admit that I have had my share of zombie-like days I don't think I have ever had a particularly strong yen for eating brain, nor has flesh been falling off me in that delectable and inimitable zombie manner (that I know of). And I am still physical enough to type this so not a ghost (maybe I am a poltergeist???) Either way, sending me this email - MULTPLE times, no less, how many times can a human being DIE, exactly? - serves zero purpose. Because I still cling to life, and the rumours of my death (to misquote with glee) have no doubt been greatly exaggerated. (By the way I have never opened one of these emails. So I have no idea what exactly they want with a dead person. Or what it is that is about to kill me. And it was entertaining the first time - I laughed, I really did. But being told that I am dead, over and over and over again, is beginning to lose its charm. So quit already. Do. Thanks.)
2) "You do not have to be afraid of loud noises". Oh. Okay. Thanks for letting me know. I'll take it under advisement.
3) a double whammy - "GENUINE letters from Santa!" and "Time is running out for your child" - seasonal nonsense, but several questions are going begging here. "Genuine" letters? Rewally? From the ACTUAL Santa? What do you know that I don't? And it's his busy season, you know. He really doesn't have the time to sit and handwrite letters to every kid out there who thinks they ought to getone. So let's ease up on the"genuine" shall we? I yanked on that beard. It comes off. it's cotton wool. Let's say no more about that. But that is followed by the rather more dire "time is running out" message. What happens after the sands run out? Does your kid start getting letters saying "you are dead", signed, Santa, merry christmas ho ho ho ho?
The endless fun in my spam folder. Really.
Brought to you as a Publice Service, so that you don't have to bother wading through the mess.
