Moss, is humor writer from Tennessee. She writes a
weekly human interest column about daily life and the funny
things that happen to everyone.
She has written for the Daily News of Kingsport, Griffin Journal,
Oakridge Now, Atlanta Woman Magazine, Aberdeen Examiner, Angleton
Advocate, and Smyrna AM, a supplement of the Murfreesboro Daily News
Journal. She has been
published by Voyageur Press, McGraw Hill, and the good folks
at Guidepost Books. Her articles have appeared in
numerous anthologies and other publications, both in print and online.
She is a
former board member and past Editor of the Columnists.com, website of the National Society of Newspaper
oldest and largest professional organization
for columnists. She is the Web Editor of
Humorists.com and a founder of the Southern Humorists writers'
organization. She is writer, editor, and webmaster of HumorColumnist.com.
To carry her weekly column in your
to republish an
article, please contact her. It's that easy.
Follow her on
Follow me on Facebook
Create Your Badge
Write on my Wall
Online Since 1999
||Junk Mail Junk....
was sitting at my computer the other day minding my own business and
surfing the net. In retrospect, I think maybe I had just read one too
many junk emails that day, but the first thing you know I found my
eyelids feeling a bit heavy.
I slowly drifted away and next thing I was aware of was being in
cyberspace and somehow managing to become entangled in the new email
filter on my computer, along with a month's supply of SPAM that had
never been emptied.
I tried to maintain a sense of dignity, which was hard to do sitting
in a mail bucket.
Now for those of you who might be so unenlightened you've never heard
of SPAM, let me give you a quick definition. We are not talking about
the unidentified mystery meat that comes in a can and goes by the same
name. We are talking about unwanted email that comes from unknown
In the snail mail world, they call it junk mail. In the cyber world,
we call it SPAM. I don't know why. It just is.
At first I was a bit apprehensive, but after looking around I realized
it might not be such a bad place. After all, where else can I get a
prestigious university degree of my choice, just from my life
experience, without course work, or tests? In the world of SPAM, I can
be a lawyer, a teacher, or a rocket scientist just by calling their
toll free number today.
The SPAM messages were all very concerned about me and my interests,
especially when it came to financial matters. They assured me that I
could consolidate my debts and apply for a loan in spite of a bad
I could also apply for a guaranteed credit card at the bank of their
choice with low, low interest for the first three days. I could open
an online banking account, with a balance of $20 already in it, just
for filling out the application.
In the SPAM world I was encouraged to start an e-business and make
money on the net working from home. I could be paid for my great
ideas. I could market my products and advertise for free with
thousands of email addresses guaranteed to be valid and bring results,
reaching others just the way they reached me.
While waiting for my low interest loan to go through, I can watch a
free DVD movie or visit a casino and become a high roller, all without
ever leaving the comfort of my own mailbox. I could also
dream about my free trip to the NFL All-Star Game, complete with
airfare and hotel accommodations.
Life is good inside a SPAM filter.
Everything in the SPAM world is free, or at least half price. I could
get home, auto, health or life insurance at 75% off, 24 hours a day, 7
days a week. I could lose 10 pounds in 5 weeks with an e-diet. I could
look great, remove fat, increase my income, reduce my debts and sign
on the line for a home equity loan.
Why is it that when something seems to be too good to be true, it
probably is? We don't need a bachelor, masters, or Ph.D. in the field
of our choice or any other to know when email is bunk.
And so with great reluctance I untangled myself from the promises,
pressed the delete key and emptied the SPAM filter.
My new net buddies were sent back into cyberspace where they came
from, but not for long, I'm afraid. They will merely mutate, change
their subject line and email address, and reappear in my mailbox again
one by one. They don't give up easily.
Meantime, I've got to quit spending so much time at the computer
before my head hits the keyboard again. Maybe I need a cup of coffee.
Is that my email notification signal blinking? I've got to check my
Copyright 2008 Sheila Moss
Nashville, TN 37219
Buy it now!
$5.00 + shipping