Abandon hope, all ye that spam anywhere

Dear Spammers –

Gosh, you’re busy! As Eddie Izzard once said in another context, you must get up very early in the morning.

What’s that? You always sleep til noon because you’ve automated your spamming and you’re making money off it? Oh, jolly well done. That must be some compensation for the fact that everyone freaking hates you.

How do you introduce yourself at parties? Let me guess. “Hi, my name is Mud. I’m a spammer.”

You might then be asked, by some innocent person, “What do spammers do?” This person is probably well advanced in years, so do speak clearly when you reply:

“I fill up the comments on people’s blogs with junk like GAGA NUDE and HOT CHICKS HEAR and KINKY SEX 4U NOW. Yeah, it’s a dirty job, but someone has to make bloggers waste time deleting spam so they won’t end up with posts that look like Porn for Dummies.”

Sorry, you no longer have an audience. The aged innocent person has lost interest and wandered off to sample the artichoke dip. I hope it’s delicious. It might even go well with Spam.

His object all sublime, he will achieve in time, to let the punishment fit the crime, the punishment fit the crime

"Welcome to Hell, spammers!"
"Welcome to Hell, spammers!"

Did you know, dear Mud, that in Dante’s Inferno, one of the 9 levels of Hell is reserved for spammers? No? Well, it’s news to Dante too, but that’s because Hell has been redesigned since his day. Which was the 14th century, in case you haven’t had time to get acquainted with Dante, what with being so busy with your spam and all.

In the Inferno, each sin is punished with a contrapasso, otherwise known as poetic justice. For example, Paolo and Francesca, who committed adultery, are stuck together in a never-ending shag. Okay, that might not sound like much of a punishment, but imagine what their breath must be like after a few years.

By the way, in the text for that illustration, Hell’s ferryman is crying, “Woe unto you, ye souls depraved!” Or if you’re French-speaking: “Gare à vous, pervers esprits damnés!” Just thought you’d like to know.

So let’s consider what a contrapasso might look like for you, Mud-the-Spammer.

You could spend eternity removing spam from an ever-increasing number of blogs. Three of them will be mine. Yes, I’m planning to write from beyond the grave; they’ll have to prise this laptop out of my cold dead fingers.

Nasty, proddy cans!
Nasty, proddy cans!

Or how about this? You’ll be buried in Spam, both in and out of cans. One day you’ll be immersed in a pit of pig meat, plus potato starch and sodium nitrite, which is a carcinogen, by the way, but you’ll be past caring. Next day, back in the pit, with hundreds of metal containers poking into every square inch of your stark-naked body.

No SpamMy readers are encouraged to suggest even more ingenious contrapassi in the Comments (leave them alone, Mud).

As for you: have fun in the Inferno. Don’t forget to blog! We can hardly wait to “comment.”

Photo: can of Spam from Wikimedia Commons, originally posted to Flickr by janetgalore at http://flickr.com/photos/15675128@N00/245491496.

Other images: Wikimedia Commons, in the public domain. Gustave Doré’s illustration is Plate IX: Canto III: Arrival of Charon.

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