Tin Can Alley

One of the amusing things about blogging is the Spam that seems to be an integral part of the territory. Spam … that delectable Hormel product introduced in 1937 and popularized during World War II … isn’t just for the food pantry anymore. It’s an indispensable element of the World Wide Web experience!spam_can_open

Given his experience in World War II, my dear daddy enjoyed Spam. He’d slice it up, arrange it in a skillet and fry one side and then the other to a golden brown. Usually, he’d serve the slices on bread. I don’t recall him using any condiments, just fried Spam and bread. (And he wasn’t much for vegetables, so this would be a complete meal for him.)

Looking through my blog folders today, I got to thinking about Spam. I have a plug-in set up to move what appear to be Spam comments into a trash folder. So far, I’ve set up the folder so that I decide when and if these comments are permanently deleted. This could be done automatically if I changed the setting, but I’m the curious type and these comments can be perplexing … hence my curiosity. There are certain common themes and the language usage leads me to believe these messages are machine generated, or else originate from a non-English-speaking country. I’ve never researched them, but have my suspicions.

SpamArtI decided to serve a plate of Spam with today’s post. The picture at right shows five or six slices of Spam (the meat) slathered with five snippets of Spam (the electronic kind) from my blog’s Spam folder. Maybe a little mustard would help them go down smoothly?

Honestly, I don’t understand the point of electronic Spam. If these messages come from actual people (learning to writer English perhaps?), why do they flood the blogosphere? If these messages originate from a computer, what’s the point? As with the producers of malware, I don’t understand why someone’s efforts must be devoted to mischief and mayhem!

I am a practical observer. My sense is if an individual can produce digital products that maliciously attack and muck up other people’s computers, shouldn’t that ability be re-channeled into helpful and positive productions?

I know I’m naive, but I just don’t get it.

Speaking of “positive productions,” I couldn’t help myself. As I reflected on the idiocy and worthlessness of Spam (the electronic variety), a silly poem began its gradual emergence from a few simple words to the full-grown product. If my daddy were still alive, I can just see him shaking his head in disbelief and disapproval that such a tasty creation as Hormel’s Spam would suffer the ignominy of having its name so heedlessly defamed. I share his dismay.

Spam, Poetry, Poem, Verse, Whimsy
Poem: Scram Slam


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