Love songs to pressed meat
When talking with friends about the vast amounts of junk email they receive in comparison to me, I always felt a little inadequate. Is my email address not worthy somehow? If I POP, do I not receive email? What gives?
Yesterday the spammers went to town on my inbox; I got about 100 pieces of spam in a 10 hour period. Pressed tight to the spammer’s scented bosom, a feeling of acceptance washed over me. I belong.
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