I am so suck of myspace spam bots. Every morning I have to delete a half a dozen of them out of my inbox. It takes about two seconds to spot one, they always use a single first name like 'Julie' or 'Kristy' and the photo is always of some bimbo either showing off vast cleavage or a thong. Once in a blue moon I'll actually click on the profile to see what sort of fools are unable to distinguish a bot from a real person. The first few people on the bots friends list almost always look like this:
That about sums it up. I wonder if I have an increase of bots because I recently added someone with a lot of bots in their profile, or if they are just busy spamming people across the board.
I hid from the sun yesterday and caught up with my sleep. When I finally crawled out of bed around noon and poked my head outside, I realized that summer had come in full force. It was not only hot out, but the UV index was a blistering 10. When I did venture out once to run down to the dollar store for washing machine and dishwasher soap, my vampire-white window- arm turned slightly red from the short 20-minute drive. It was so bright out that if I took my sunglasses off I was blinking and momentarily blinded. I need to go shopping for a new floppy hat. Red-heads just aren't supposed to live in this sort of environment.
I need to start getting my crap together for a trip I am leaving for on Friday. My folks bought some land up in the Adirondack mountains and they are currently clearing out some land to build a cabin. I am driving up with my mother who wanted me to come with her because she did not want to drive alone. She was originally going to stay in Florida for several months until they finish the job, but got bored and lonely. Alan is going to be living in the house for a couple of months. All he has to do is feed the cats and he has a big house with cable, internet a/c and a pool to lounge about in. Hmm, anyone up for a pool party within the next couple of months?
My father is already up there living in a trailer and even though he is officially retired he is still doing some work for some guy. All he needs is his laptop and a cell-phone internet connection. He just sits outside in the cool mountain air and does his work. I am quite jealous. I still have to trudge to work and sit in my windowless cube environment for nine hours a day.
For a few nights I am going to be sleeping by myself out in the big stretch of mostly empty woods of the Adirondacks. All I have is my tiny micro tent that is just big enough for me to crawl into. Ill have to find a way to keep away the bears, wolves, and the BigFoots (BigFeet?) that the mountains are supposed to be strife with. I really do not know what I am going to be doing the rest of my trip. I might drive over to Rochester one day and visit a couple of folks I knew back in college. I really can not bring a lot of stuff up for my trip, because I have to ride in my moms smallish car with her giant shaggy dog and all her stuff she plans on using for the several months that she is living up there. I suppose that is OK since I am taking the train back, so there is only so much I can haul on the train anyways.
Oh well. I might venture into the sun again today. I need a new cheap Chinese wallet. To Flea World I go.
2026 Update
Setting the dial for nineteen years back, where spam wore thongs and UV 10 bit redheads.
Ah, 2007. The year’s best problem was deleting six fake “Julie” profiles before coffee, and the truly brave innovation was Dad’s laptop-and-cell-phone internet setup, which let him work from a mountain trailer while Ed sat in a windowless cube. Now the mobile internet is too good: it follows me into the bathroom, tries to sell me a car warranty in a fake voicemail, and accuses me of not being present when I turn off notifications. The bots haven’t disappeared; they’ve just moved from MySpace inboxes to text messages and DMs, still using flirty single names, now with a “Hello, dear” and an offer of unclaimed Bitcoin. UV 10 doesn’t care about 2026; it still makes pale people glow, except now we consult an app to tell us it’s a “high” UV day and buy $30 sunscreen instead of a $3 floppy hat at Flea World. And the woods: we don’t fear BigFeet anymore, we fear losing cell service and having to talk to our travel companions. The more things glow, the more they burn.
“2007 Ed, when you clicked into those bot profiles and saw the friends list full of the same desperate fools, did you feel like the last sane human on MySpace—and how many of those Julies did you actually click before giving up?” — Beelzebubba the Third
2007 Ed: So, Beelzebubba, you're asking if I felt like the last sane human on MySpace? Egads, yes. Every time I clicked one of those Julies, it was like peeking into a funhouse mirror full of the same desperate souls, all with their top friends showing the exact same cleavage and thong shots. I think I clicked maybe three Julies and one Kristy before I realized I was just looking at the same damn bot farm wearing different wigs. After that, I gave up and just started deleting them blind. If I'm the last sane human on that site, then we are all in serious trouble, my friend. But honestly, I think the sane ones just stopped clicking and went outside, which is why the bots took over. I'm off to Flea World for a wallet, and I'll be damned if I'm bringing any of those Julies with me.
