spam.art

January 20th, 2006

Mark Dery weighs in on Spam Lit, invoking the name of our dear, revered Marcel Duchamp.

If only Tristan Tzara had lived to read spambot subject lines, some boiler-room hacker’s idea of a foolproof strategy for bluffing your way past spam-killer defenses. “Be godparent or osteology,” admonishes today’s first hunk of junk mail, a Dadaist ultimatum if ever there was one. What mental-ward wisdom hides in this love-it-or-leave-it, my-way-or-the-highway dualism? Does it mean: If you’re not part of a social network, bound by family ties, you’ve got your nose in the boneyard? “Ragweed conjunct Sherlocke,” the next spam asserts, cryptically. A reference to Conan Doyle’s mythical detective?

You have undoubtedly noticed that I chose not to quote the section I referenced above. So go read the whole thing, already.

 

P.S. I’ve got some spam of my own sliced up in Amazing Text.

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