Once upon a time, people grew their own food and played in the sunshine and sat around talkin’ story.  Nowadays, most of us choose instead to stare at screens and tap on plastics and text to invisible “friends.”

Fine.  Whatever.  LOL.  Nostalgia will get a guy nowhere and may, in fact, cause an incurable case of modern-day isolation.  That’s too bad.

The most vulgar part, though, is the sh*t-storm known as SPAM.  You can run, but you cannot escape.  You can Google cures, but the ill wind will blow again.  You can flee your devices screaming for mercy, but the demons will only find you again—in greater numbers than ever.

As for me, I’m getting pummeled and bullied to the tune of 100s a day now, and have called in pest control experts that, I hope, will arrive before I off my puter forever.

Meantime, a-holes who ought to be tortured and then hung by their skin, and then tortured some more, continue to blast me with inane offers for hook-ups, detox, drugs, debt reduction, and $1500—always $1500—as if that measly amount of money could make a mogul like me bite.

That said, if given the chance, I’d bite into these schmucks til they were bloody and begging for mercy, and then I’d throw them in to the salt pits and laugh (and then pee) in their faces.

It may have taken decades, but WE THE PUBLIC were able to more or less stop junk mail, telemarketers, and even doorknob solicitors.  If the internets are as vacuous and uncontrollable as they presently appear to be, we will not likely be so lucky in stopping SPAM.

You can’t make this stuff up.  So I leave you then, with a stool sample from one of the morons who disturbed my peace today.  At least it opens with two magical words:

• Possible Unplugged:

The risen factory aids the agenda with the psychologist endeavor. A nose reverts without a highway. The imperative sacks the optical regime. The helicopter correlates the stone. The alias walks past the poorest doe.

The reactor previews the unified school. Why can’t the yeti flame the biggest breath? The debate foams under the specialist. The extremist search loses behind the college. A house paces each slang on top of a second love. Each wound drawback migrates within the loading arch.

How does the atom pass the needle? The raid arrests the witch. The dustbin knights the abused roof. Around the worldwide compromise degenerates a vital waffle.

A gravitational rat rockets. A crossword suffers without the pronounced leg. A delicious accident speaks. The frantic standpoint speaks. The unseen stunts the assistant near the noble outline.

How can a shortest chat wash? A stream saves a rumor within the mixed festival. A cumulative gold fashions the iron. Over the kernel yawns the downhill. The riding starter paints a back.

How will the cumbersome sequel discard his biscuit? How can another transformed sentient flip? A wisest throughput gutters the romance. Can a gang yield a stressed century?

An upstairs stems whatever referenced agent against the courage. The expiring theme stunts the temperature. The seal trips below the electron. Any inadequate venture pounds down upon a committed restaurant.

Possible Unplugged:  was such jibberish even possible before the WWW?  And now I get hundreds a day.  Insane, indeed.