It is said that, given an infinite number of monkeys pounding on an infinite number of typewriters (okay, it was said some time ago) for an infinite amount of time, the monkeys could produce the works of Shakespeare. It seems that rather than engage in that lengthy and ultimately useless task, the monkeys have taken up paying work writing spam.
I'm not sure what it all means, but the spam that gets through the filters at the office is relatively benign and thoroughly bizarre. Sent by such luminaries as Eloquent M. Rainwater and Lynch E. Proprietor, I am usually cheerfully saluted with something along the lines of "Greetings, white man! :)" I then am provided with some wisdom of the ages: "Nothing is poetical if plain daylight is not poetical and no monster should amaze us if the normal man does not amaze.Count not him among your friends who will retail your privacies to the world."
This is what happens when academics leave the ivory tower; so sad.
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