No More Rhymes Now, I Mean It (or, Averse to Tuesday Mornings)

I thought I would give you a poem today
On this lackluster Tuesday morn,
In hopes I might make your whole outlook less gray,
Or even feel like you're reborn.
Unfortunately, my descriptions are weak,
As is my grasp of metaphor.
Oh, you'll be left wanting if fine verse you seek;
My skills in this realm are quite poor.

But if all you care for is rhythm and rhyme,
Perhaps things will turn out alright.
For instance, it's easy to rhyme "rhyme" with "time."
Oh, who am I kidding? That's trite.
It's boring! It's horrible! Are we agreed?
This venture was doomed from the start.
I've nothing to say; you've no reason to read.
This isn't a poem. It's art.


If you were actually hoping for poetry, my sincere apologies.<sup>1


1</sup> There once was a footnote named Shorty
Whose syllables numbered near forty.
It didn't make sense,
And without recompense,
It ended. Would you like some more tea?

Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Baked Beans, Spam, Spam, Spam, and Spam

Yep, that's pretty much what I've been getting for blog comments lately. Only without the baked beans.

I last posted three weeks ago, though if you've been anywhere near as busy lazy as I have, you may not have noticed my absence. The anonymous spambot peppering my comment section sure hasn't. In the past week, I've deleted 24 spamments, including 8 today.

This spamming is getting out of spamtrol, and I tell you I won't stand for it.¹

When the spam first started spamming in, I replied to the spammers, which was kind of fun. Then I tried spamming the spammers on their own blogs, which was even more fun.²

But as I've stated many times in recent months, I no longer have time to do things such as... things. So instead, I'm stuck despamming random spamlinks to U-haul and some Tulsa Dog Training Academy and information about Dred Scott.

I'd turn off anonymous comments, except I do have a few friends who still make them on occasion, and I'd rather inconvenience me than them. I'm just too spamming nice. And that's how the spamming spammers win.

Wait, did I say that's how they win? Because I meant that's how they incur my wrath. Because I'm not about to take this sitting down.³

Let this be a warning to all you spammers out there in spamville. This is not a spamocracy. You won't find your spamtopia here. The next spammer who spams my spamming site will spamming live to regret it. I will hunt you down. And I will do... something.

Possibly involving baked beans.


¹ That's why I'm sitting.
² As an added bonus, it looks like that same spammer spammed its own blog post from a year ago. When did that happen? Today. It's not a coincidence, people. This is fate.
³ Now I'm on the floor.