Spammy Banners Will Get Us Out of This Mess

A quick scan of my spam folder this morning and I find some fun subject lines:

"Nothing beats a huge stick"
"See your organ increase right before your eyes"
"The lady will love your monster snake pants."
"Donation from Mrs Sarah Dandr"


You probably don't know Sarah Dandr. She's from "Serbian." and has a "longtime cancer of the breast." Long, sad story. but she's a widow now with a ton of money and she needs my help. As soon as I finish this blog post, I'm sending her my bank account information. And I believe her, too, as she signed her letter to me "Yours in Christ."

And today I was checking this here blog, looking at some of the banners I have allowed to appear. I note I'm starting to get some big name sponsors like Netflix and Progressive Insurance. It's an awesome program, Google's ad thing, and since I started allowing ads on here, I've made $100, which over the life of this blog, averages out to about a nickel a day.

But when you're creating ads, do you think you might employ a proofreader; one who speaks English? My readers expect better than this ad to your left. I feel like I'm being approached by a fast talking, shady dude on the streets of Tijuana with this ad. Maybe I'm supposed to read that headline and think, "Wow, exotic. Love how she phrased that. I can hear her hot accent already."

I've always said the Internet is the Wild West, the new Frontier, where it's wide open to everyone, from Sarah in Serbia to Latin Beauties, every man and woman for him/herself. Everyone hoping to make a dollar, a euro, a peso or pound. I guess there's room for headlines like "Seeking For Latin Beauty?" Actually, I should expect more of them and welcome them. It gives the blog an international feel. We're all in this together, Sarah, this chick above, you, me. So click those banners people; shop and travel. The world economy ain't gonna fix itself.

Busting the Twitter Whores

The Twitter people do a pretty good job of finding and rooting out the obvious exploiters. Here are the icons of a few recent followers.

Now, granted, these fine ladies were following Ronnie Reed, who is only asking for such company when his twitter name is Ronnie6969xxx. Ronnie would love them. Since I have images blocked in my gmail, I never see their icons. So when you click on a profile link in your email to see if maybe this person is legit, you get taken to a Twitter screen with a message something like this:

They always have names like MonicaF75, are following 65 people with 0 followers and 1 tweet, which is in most cases a link that is going to get you in trouble in one way or another. Twitter does a great job of getting rid of them. Now if only they would get rid of the life coaches, social media experts, bad comedians and foreign currency traders, all of whom are just as whorish.

My, Cheap Lots of Costa Rica, What an Incredible Translation Service You Have!

The better to comment-spam your blog with!


"Hello I want to congratulate to them by its site of the Web of the excellent looks like entertained and very good very to me it elaborated. I invite them to that they explore a little on my Web site."

How Not To Do Social Media

One of the most visited posts on this blog over the years has been the Land O' Lakes Butter box trick. It is also the most spammed post on this blog. Usually I delete them as soon as they come in, but I'll leave the most current one up, just as a lesson on how you shouldn't promote your business on blogs. Never mind the bad grammar, as I don't speak Spanish and am not one to make fun of anyone who can speak more than one language. But the form is the same in all of them, "Love your blog. Please keep it up. Now visit my site that has zero to do with anything being discussed here." Here is the current comment, verbatim:

Sure, it was probably automated. (Wait, it can't be since I have the word verification feature turned on. So someone is actually pasting this comment in along with their linked name and typing in the captcha.) So what has the site owner lost in terms of time or resources? Probably very little. But is a link buried in a mildly trafficked blog post comment thread really that valuable when you risk looking like a shameless spammer?

Parkrrr points out in the comments that it's all about Page Rank, which is all about links, and one time a long time ago BoingBoing linked to me, giving that post some rank. So it's a piggyback link game! Well, screw you, Costa Rican Land Pimps. Your comment goes away now.

Direct Mail Dogs

It's orange, so it looks like the utility company sent it. It's stark, like a utility company would do, but they would probably say "Water Alert" if this emergency-looking card was from them. They would also use their logo. And they would not send it by bulk mail. They'd hang it on your door. But when Grandma gets this, she goes, "Oh noooo! Did I forget to pay the water bill?" Grandma probably won't look that number up online and find the word "suspicious" in a lot of the search results. She'll probably call it, and hear a recorded message announce very firmly (and within the guidelines of the law established to protect consumers from ravenous wolves like ourselves) that if you received a card that says, "Water Update!" please be informed that we are not associated with any city, county or government water agency and that we are a water purification company.

And so you call it again, hoping to hear the name of the company that the hosebag bastard announcer ever-so-cleverly slurs at the beginning of the message. (Thank you for calling "Jaws of Orlando," it sounds like. Might've been "Pureov of Orlando.") Dick Jaws wants Granny to leave her name and address and he will rush a brochure out to her, which will be followed by, what next? Is it time for the rep to come out and do the demo, show Granny how she's gonna die from all the filth and scum that she ingests everyday through the tap? How her untreated water is eating her skin alive, like so much acid and wind and sand? Just for listening to the spiel, I'm sure there's a lovely gift incentive for her. But only if Granny is so off her rocker that she called them after receiving their brochure, which was probably full of scary headlines and ugly, germy pictures, appealing to her hypochondria. But I think by this time even ol' Gramma knows what's up with these rascals. She believes in honest dealin', and these fellas, well, they sorta tried to trick her.

That is a whole lot of hoops you're expecting really ignorant people to jump through there, asshole water purifier people. But as an old, foolish ad man once told me, "Unethical is not illegal."

Cold Call Carl - No. 11

Click for the larger and more legible.

Here's the whole "Cold Call Carl" series.

Meat-Eaters Are People Too

If you don't eat meat, please skip this post, as I know how you vegans and vegetarians get when we primitive people talk about grilling the flesh of animals over open fires, blood dripping onto the coals, creating a sizzling sound that emits a puff of smoke so aromatic as to cause those who smell it to rip their clothes from their bodies and engage in marauding, raping and other expressions of gratitude to the gods of plumped heifers and gorged pigs.

Omaha Steaks. I encountered them for the first time last year, when a brother-in-law sent me some steaks for Christmas, as he knows I like to grill. He was in Iraq at the time, so preparing the steaks was done with some sense of patriotic duty. Coincidentally, I too had sent a similar package of Omaha Steaks to another brother-in-law for Christmas, he being of that age when you just don't know what to get the guy anymore, and you know he likes meat, so you give him dead steer. The steaks I received were beyond excellent, perfectly packaged in dry ice, obviously good and bloody in their plastic vacuum-sealed containers - and when they hit the grill, I watched as birds stopped chirping, cocking their heads toward the sizzling sound. A group of deer paused in their tracks, staring my way with hungry eyes, seriously contemplating abandoning their herbivore nature. Dogs all over the neighborhood stuck their noses high in the air and twitched their ears, whimpering, while squirrels bowed on high branches, telling their little squirrel children to stop, watch and learn. The sky directly overhead was suddenly darkened by clouds of eagles, falcons and hawks, circling in a mad frenzy, screeching in lust.

And the eating that night! Oh, it was grand! All hail the sacrificed beast of burden! Raise a toast in honor of his noble death, which has provided us with a carnal and primitive feast, the memory of which shall live forever! Omaha had delivered a most wonderful steak, and we were well pleased. Our dog, Roman, still recounts that evening to whatever other dog will listen, and the other dog will drool and chase its tail and finally slump to the floor in resignation, realizing that to hear the tale of the Steak from Omaha is nothing at all like eating it. And Roman will slump with the other dog, and say, "It was the emails and phone calls that put a stop to the Steak from Omaha. And they only let me have one tiny bite." He then sighs loudly and closes his eyes.

All it took was one order, sent to a brother-in-law in St. Louis, and Omaha Steaks has since hounded me daily by email and phone, trying to get me to take the next step on the road to becoming a 33rd Degree Omahan. I politely tell the phone solicitors, "No thanks," and hang up before they can say the next line in their script. The emails go to the SPAM folder and get deleted without opening. I finally found the "stop sending me emails" link and unsubscribed. Not that I ever did "subscribe," but an email address was required for online ordering, naturally. Of course then I got an email telling me how sorry they were that I unsubscribed and "Won't you please take one final look at these great offers on juicy meats for the holidays?"

Omaha Steaks, you have a great product. I know where to find you if and when I decide to buy more of your steaks. But the "if" part of that equation grows iffier every day, as you have gone from a place to get good steaks to an annoying and constant presence in my life. That won't win you any friends around here. It might even make you an enemy.

AT&T and Apple: Smelly Pirate Hookers

A long time ago, (the 1990s) before everyone and their grandma ditched their landlines for their cell phones, a bunch of telecoms would compete vigorously for your long distance service. There were rebates and incentives to get you to switch, and the MCIs, AT&Ts and Sprints of the world were locked in a fierce death struggle. I remember one particular promotion in which AT&T offered anyone who had left them $100 to come back. As a loyal AT&T customer, this pissed me off, so I called them and said,

"Hey! I never left! Where's my $100? You reward people who left you for MCI and then come back? What about the people who never left you? I'm leaving unless you give me $100."

So they applied $100 to my account. I guess those were the glory days for customer service reps, when your random call-center jackleg in West Covina could toss around hundred-dollar bills.

Now, AT&T Wireless, (formerly Cingular) in conjunction with Apple (formerly the Satanic Church of Steve Jobs) are at it again.

I bought my iPhone in May. Now the new one is out. And it's pretty. And Better. Stronger. Faster. Apple was kind enough to let me know of the new version of the iPhone in a SPAM email they sent me, my very first SPAM from Apple since registering at iTunes and the App store.

If you've never owned an iPhone before, you can have this baby for just $199. Of course you'll also need to sign a two-year, iron-clad, sacrifice-your-children, accept the mark of the Beast contract with AT&T.

The $199 has an asterisk next to it. That asterisk is for those of us already in love with the iPhone. Its' text reads:

Requires new two-year AT&T wireless service contract, sold separately to qualified customers; credit check required; must be 18 or older. For non-qualified customers, including existing AT&T customers who want to upgrade from another phone or replace an iPhone 3G, the price with a new two-year agreement is $499 (8GB), $599 (16GB), or $699 (32GB).

I believe this is taught in business schools in a course called "Fucking Your Customers - Locking Them In and Hanging Them Out to Dry."

I'm trying to figure out the business logic of treating your current customers this way. I think it boils down to:

"We've got Dave locked in for two years as it is. In two years' time, he will either: (A) Break his iPhone and need a new one; (B) Sell his iPhone on eBay and then come back for the new one, in which case his two-year contract starts all over again; or (C) Quickly forget about this slight after blogging about it.

Attention Apple and AT&T: I don't need you. There are other phones in the sea (or something like that). There are other companies ready to counter this strategy where you woo new customers at the expense of your current customers. Something about "shitting in your nest" comes to mind.

I'm really mad at you bastards, and in two years, I'll make you pay!

Kim, You Are a Fat Liar

Kim's Diet Plan (dot com). You know Kim - or at least you know her big gut spilling over the top of her too-tight-pants. She's a marketer of the first order, which is to say she is a Grade-A Liar. Actually, I'd be surprised if Kim is a real person at all.


In a very clever move, a visit to Kim's site records your IP so that in the first paragraph of her introduction to how she's going to scrape the walls of your colon, Kim claims:

My name is Kim and I wanted to share my weight loss story with you. I’m no medical guru or anything like that. I’m just a mom who lives in [your town] who figured out a system that works better than all the famous diets...

No matter where you live, that's where Kim lives, too.

Kimmy, Kimmy. I'm disappointed in you and proud of you at the same time.

(Note: Kim's Diet Plan should not be confused with Kim Jong Il's Diet Plan.)

Blast Fax From the Past

I Opened Some Spam

The subject line stood out from the others. In my Spam folder were the usual headlines, calling me inadequate in new and interesting ways. "Your device is so little she barely finds it in bed!" laughed one. "A genuine gentleman in bed is all the time ready," offered another, and I found myself nodding thoughtfully along with the crafter of that sentiment. "Enhancing your tool means enlarging your virility in general," said someone from Eastern Europe. "We will not let your masculinity retire so rapidly!" promised another, while someone else offered the approximate war cry, "We will not let your virility die so soon!"

And then, like a Beatles song written on acid, came this subject line: "Formerly garnished with toes so neat."

Genius. What else have you written? I must know.

I opened it to find this verse, in this form:

You are
-We sail away with a pea-green sail
-A sea-green Porpoise carried away

http://www.lalapasabalureticileri.com/zujc.html

--Give him a pipe to smoke all night
-May we build a nest on your lovely Hat?

You are now breathless, as was I, sitting in awe at the feet of the Master Spammer. Note the usage of caps on the final word "Hat." Note the double-dash before the fourth line. The way the verse draws you in with the initial and beckoning "You are."

And these are just the very minor nuanced things that say so much. We could of course spend many years and write countless volumes on the poem itself. Cults could be started around this work. Wars fought, seas crossed, babies made... all in the name of the nameless and forever anonymous writer who said so much for a Canadian online pharmacy.

Testing, Testing - Sibilance - Testing

Pay me no mind. I am playing with RSS and Twitter. Trying to get right with the community and stop spamming them with shameless plugs for my own stuff.

In an effort to streamline the multiple channels that I offer, I had hoped to maximize the user experience by facilitating a symbiotic relationship, allowing a single input to multiply by three.

Little did I know, the Twitter community finds this spam-like and offensive.

And....Go Dog, Go!

Be Sure Your Spam Will Find You Out

I don't remember signing up to follow Bobbi-Jo Frazier on Twitter, but I'll be sure to remove her now.

Attention, Bobbi-Jo: You're doing it wrong. You're going to kill Twitter with this type of tweet. If you get ANY business from this method of soliciting your "friends," I will write a blog post on your success as a Twitter marketer.

I don't expect to have to write that blog post.

Oh Yeah. And Why I'm Not Skyping Either

Skype. Another victim of the get-rich-quick, look-at-me-naked SPAM crowd, as proven here by "Gnishilda."

That's Very Kind of You To Ask, Google, But Yes, I'm Sure

And since when is SPAM a "conversation"?

You're Slowing Me Down, Kid

Little Stevie here was going to get Dad a tie for Father's Day, but Trek talked him into a bike. The Madone line from Trek starts at around $2,000 and can set you back as much as $5,500.

Image from an email campaign Trek is currently running.

My own Dad forwarded this to me, as he is on their mailing list. Not happening, Dad.

Let's Just Get an Employee to Voice The Spot

I like to listen to the radio in the car. Almost any kind of radio. I even get a kick out of stupid radio that completely messes with my senses, like Sean Hannity, because it's good to know how people who think they are deep thinkers really think. I suppose I could better use my commuting time learning a foreign language on CD, but then I'd be that guy you see in your rearview mirror talking to himself as I repeated after the instructor, "¿Cuántas cervezas antes de usted consiguen desnudas?" (Go ahead, take that phrase to your favorite translation site.)

I have done voiceovers and I have directed voiceovers, and I think I know good talent when I hear it. I've been wrong before. I once convinced a TV studio director to read for a spot because she had a very smooth and attractive voice. In front of the mic with a script, she froze up and sounded like a 3rd grader just learning to read big books without pictures.

So recently I was listening to a local show that makes me laugh some mornings and a spot came on voiced by a guy with the coolest Southern accent. It wasn't Redneck Southern, but had that Virginia/Carolina refinement to it, where the word "dollar" becomes dolluh and "help" is a charming "hep." The voice belonged to this man, Ashton Ritchie. He wasn't the best voiceover talent, in fact his voice was a little high-pitched and he sounded slightly nervous, but there was an honesty in his voice that made me believe in the product he was selling, Scotts Bonus S Weed and Feed for Southern Lawns. Ritchie is apparently an employee of The Scotts Company in Ohio and understands the deep mysteries of suburban lawn care.

I know many urbanites who scoff at lawns, but houses often come with yards that require attention. Being a homeowner with a yard that tends to try to die every year, I bought a bag of the stuff based on Ritchie's seemingly honest endorsement. It was some ridiculous kind of expensive, so I took care to apply it to my front lawn in exactly the manner indicated on the bag.

The man wasn't lying. Shit works. Crazy works. My lawn looks like it responded to a spam email for Lawn Enhancement. It is strong, firm and long-lasting. All the ladies in the town are impressed by it's length, girth and stamina. My lawn is no longer embarrassed by its small size. It is now powerful and able to please through the night. My lawn has confidence.

Mowing season has started down here and the front lawn is on grass steroids. Thanks, Mr. Southern Gentleman Lawn Care Dude, but now I'm afraid to apply Scotts to the backyard.

The Boss Wants to Meet About Your Amazing Tool

We shouldn't look down on spammers. We can learn from them. They are really nothing less than marketers trying new ways to get you to act. And they try so hard.

The taunting email subject lines suggesting that my "schlong" "tool" or "P3n1s" should be 3 feet in length haven't been successful in getting me to open the emails. So now the spammers have a new tack.

There's a meeting with the boss! And of course Jimi's birthday is coming up.

Here are today's spams with that theme.

When Nonsense Becomes Creative

The spammers learned very quickly that to be upfront in their subject lines was going to send their direct mail pieces straight to the spam folder. Then they developed tricky ways to spell, like "V!@gra." That practice eventually caught up with them, so now they just make shit up. Crazy unpronounceable words that make no sense.

Here's a little game. Of these nonsensical subject lines, I will randomly pick one. What are the odds that the email will address my manhood?

I'm going to pick the 4th email, titled "zereiruj". It's got a nice ring to it. It's a pretty word that might mean "postcard skies" in some exotic language.

Envelope please.

(drum roll)










Damn! Didn't see that coming.

Grammar Spammer

Hey, Spammy:

Good effort here, but the plural "schoolmates" was a tip-off. And I also don't remember eating lunch with a Darin Marshall in school. Hire a proofreader.

Very untruly yours,

Jetpacks













Previously: Annoying misspelling.