Like pretty much anyone possessing both respiration and an Internet connection, I face a daily deluge of spam e-mails regarding cheap prescriptions for “Vic0din, “Viakgra” and, of course, “!!ī�忬ü �볳!!ī��ſ���� ���湮,������.”
My favorites, however, have nothing to do with their content, but rather with the names that appear in their address line. Every week, a Mysterious Cyberspace Entity (or MCE) sends me dozens of messages offering “Best rates on medication, shipping worldwide!” Each bears a unique user name, all seemingly generated by combining two random words and a middle initial: for instance, Hankies O. Standards, Input H. Eulogy and Diviners R. Corroborates. I’m not entirely certain whether the MCE believes I’ll mistake these for actual names, or just feels that they have to have something more interesting than “Hot Teen Sluts” in the header. (Though honestly, what could be more interesting?)
Sometimes, the randomness produces apt results, such as Strongholds R. Routed. (Think about it.) Other times, it outdoes itself and creates something truly sublime like Miaplacidus V. Flywheels. I had to look it up: Miaplacidus is another name for the star Beta Carinae, combining the Latin word for “placid” with the Arabic word for “waters.” I am considering naming my next child Miaplacidus.
But this weekend I received perhaps the greatest of these to date. “Searching for PlIIS lumbrous in internet? naphthalize poikilothermic” was the top line of the message. And the sender?
Sniffed C. Eskimos.
Honestly, it sounds less like a medication provider, and more like an offer for naso-Inuit porn. “Hot Eskimo-Sniffing Action!!!”
Well, Mr. Flywheels, if that is indeed your name, I salute you, and eagerly await your next posting.