I’m overwhelmed with spam. These unsolicited messages are a waste product of all of our new fangled technology and electronic lifestyle. Spam defies a concise definition. It’s like porn — you know it when you see it.
If I were a sensitive little buttercup and overthought the subject line of each spam e-mail in my in-box, I would become a paranoid, agoraphobic basket case. (Okay, more than I already am, thank you.) The unsolicited e-mails and “sponsored” posts on Facebook start to paint a picture and it ain’t flattering.The dark algorithmic forces swirling behind Zuckerberg’s palace gates are indecipherable. It’s all alchemy fed by acres of data snooping server farms, but what does it say about us? Our data profile is out there. From my view, tucked under a blanket in a quiet dark corner, a troop of failed FBI profilers have sorted through all my data and search history and compiled what they think I need in my life. The top 6 taken from my spam folder this week say:
- Dr. Oz tells me I’m morbidly obese and I must purchase a six month supply of the newest dietary supplement on the market.
- Apparently, the data gnomes believe I suffer from erectile disfunction. Probably because of Dr. Oz calling me morbidly obese.
- I have a GroupOn discount for antidepressants, for you know–depression, caused by erectile dysfunction, because of Dr. Oz calling me morbidly obese.
- There is a sale on cheap wine at BevMo, which will mix well with the antidepressants for the depression caused by erected dysfunction, because of Dr. Oz calling me morbidly obese.
- I need a spa getaway package in Reno, to massage out the hangover from the cheap wine that mixes with the antidepressants, for the erectile dysfunction, caused by Dr. Oz calling me morbidly obese.
- While not a Nigerian Prince, I did receive an invitation to a financial planning seminar. I can use the get rich quick skills learned at the seminar to pay for the spa getaway, to take care of the hangover from the cheap wine that mixes well with the antidepressants, for the erectile dysfunction, caused by Dr. Oz calling me morbidly obese.
It all starts with that damn Dr. Oz.In truth, a bulk of the spam I receive is a plea to buy this book, or that novel, or a new electronic doodad. But the Dr. Oz e-mails in the in-box make you sit back and take a moment to reflect, “How the hell did that get there?” Want to play? What do your spam e-mails say about you?