Some photos I’ve taken of the sky. These first ones are all during Autumn.
Oh SPAM, you little devil. To the countless hundreds of hours it took to delete you.
In homage, in truth, what was it all about? Revolving key words that you thought would entice me to click here. Even an insane offer, when posed enough times, leaves me wondering if I really do need Cialis? What about cheap Canadian meds or Walk-in Tubs?
I’d never considered these things, yet for years the questions were asked and asked again–sometimes a hundred times in a single day. Day in and day out.
Like the evolution of consciousness and life, the questions posed by SPAM have changed and evolved. Some people have a meditation practice, others jog or perform Tai Chi. I go through my SPAM box at high speeds to make sure there isn’t something valuable there before I delete them wholesale.
My eyes scan the page, only taking in the content subliminally, occasionally patterns emerge. Questions emerge. Questions that make me ponder my reality as I know it. Do I need Cat Food Coupons? I don’t have a cat, but surely I know people who do. Is this my chance? What if Burger King really is having this survey I keep reading about, a plea for help and I’m just ignoring them as they sicken America with crappy food?
Doctor Oz has something to tell me, and he needs to do it 14 times per day at least. If now isn’t the time for crazy roofing techniques, then I ask you, when? Replacement windows or something called a reverse mortgage might come in handy, what with the economy and all that global warming.
We all ask for signs. Signs that we’re doing the right thing, or signs to confirm we did the wrong thing. Don’t we secretly want something outside ourselves cut through the B.S. and just tell us what to do? Career choices? Love advice? Should I or shouldn’t I?
Maybe SPAM isn’t random bullshit from foreign scam artists with wispy mustaches and dreams of gold-plated hubcaps, to whom English is a passing hobby. What if there’s a hidden message here? Like those hybrids from Battle Star Galactica. They always spouted, what sounded like, jibber-jabber, but were actually tapped into the collective consciousness of their species.
“Alright, I’ll bite, SPAMBOX. Let’s do a little word association and see what secrets you hold.”
Subjects chosen at random from my SPAM box, GO!
“Consolidate debt”, “Cleanse Today”, “Meet Kosher Buyers face-to-face”, “This unbelievable medical breakthrough is saving lives across America”, “Find cheap flights”, “go now”, “Hot tips on free cell phone deals here”, “Eat what you want and still shed flab”, “real profits without effort”, “Time is running out for you”, “Here’s you gateway to better cable tv”, “Help your heirs with funeral costs”, “Easy to manage phone system”, “Your body is being destroyed if your eating this food”, “Earn your doctorate online”, “Sign Up For Elmo Gift Package”, “You really need good potence.”
Sure the spelling is . . . bad, but the message is clear. It’s a warning but it’s also message of hope. The Universe is talking and I’m listening.
My debt needs cleansing, it’s just not kosher. But there’s a medical breakthrough that is across America and I can fly there cheap. I’ll call from my free cell phone to order pizza and shed flab. The real profit is effortless, but my time runneth out and apparently my cable sucks. Jesus, I gotta get that funeral taken care of, but I need an easier-to-manage phone system. Uhg, it’s not as easy as I thought and I’m destroying my body with the pizza after all…I can take my health into my own hands by getting that doctorate online. Once I get the gift of Elmo’s package, finally, finally I will have good potence.
This changes everything.
Some of my favorite pictures that I took are of the clouds. Maybe it’s symbolic of where my head is usually at. In the clouds, dreaming.