Spam - Don't You Love It?

It's a good thing my Yahoo! mail account has a bulk folder or I'd spend my life sifting through the debris of mail. I expect to hear from stores I've ordered from online. But there are many others who have entered my mailbox uninvited. I'm sure I'm not the only one.

Have you received the mail from Nigeria that is jam-packed with great news? Either a distant relative or a complete family have died and you are the one to inherit their millions. Or perhaps they just need an American bank to make a transaction and if you help them, you will get a certain percent of the vast amount of money. All you have to do - and this is so simple - is provide your personal account number. Just a few key strokes and you are on Easy Street.

Are there people out there who actually fall for this? It boggles my mind.

The latest invasion, and one that is reported to be a virus, is the announcement that you've received a greeting card. We all like getting mail and a card is the icing on the cake. I've received them in many forms, as you probably have, too. "You have a greeting card from a partner!" "You have a postcard from a classmate." Doesn't that one peak your interest? Makes you wonder if the captain of the football team actually had a crush on you, as you did him, and has mustered up the nerve to contact you.

Other supposed greetings have come from friends, neighbors, a family member, and my personal favorite - a worshipper. Let's pull God in on this joke. Since He has the power to heal, your computer's virus will be short-lived.

Is there an extreme feeling of accomplishment just knowing you have wrecked someone's computer? I don't catch the logic. I deal with enough frustration every day from a perfectly normal computer. I sure don't need a sick one.

Sending a virus must be akin to egging or toiletpapering a house, defacing property, destroying curb-side mailboxes, and all the other mischief that some people find so fascinating. I don't understand the need to destroy, unless it's a fat picture of myself that no one needs to see. Our computers and our phones, our personal property, have become targets. We pay for those items and yet others believe they have the right to peddle their wares or send worms onto our property, using a means that we own.

I guess I should at least be grateful that greetings are being sent my way. For awhile there, I was getting ads for penis enhancements and Viagra. I never realized before that Peggy was a unisex name.