I received an email this morning. It was from someone named “Serg.” The subject line attracted my eye and at least one other part of my body: “Lindsay Lohan drops bikini bottom.”
I received an email this morning. It was from someone named “Serg.” The subject line attracted my eye and at least one other part of my body: “Lindsay Lohan drops bikini bottom.”
Intriguing, I thought to myself. Plausible. So I went ahead and opened it. The full text of the message read as follows: “So large that you will have to change your underwear size.” And then there was a link.
Listen: I can understand how a person could get fooled by the bank account spam that’s going around. I get that. Some naïve doofus might actually believe there’s a “problem” with his account and unwisely supply fraudsters with personal information that resulted in my savings fund for the dude ranch being ransacked.
But what kind of person reads, “So large that you will have to change your underwear size” and thinks: Hey, this sounds like a reputable solicitation for a safe and effective method of increasing the size of my wangness! I think I’ll give it a shot! And what comes in the mail if you go ahead and place an order? Pills? A mallet? A stout man to grab hold of it and start walking that-a-way?
More to the point of explaining my skepticism, Serg: do you have any idea how big a penis would need to grow to force a change in underwear size? I don’t either, but I suspect the words “serpentine,” “oww!” and “hey, stop stepping on that” would be involved.
In other news, it is my belief that one of the untold tragedies of the modern technological age is the burden being inflicted upon actual people with exotic names. The years 2004 to 2006 formed a golden age of bizarro monikers – among them such familiar (and, sadly, non-existent) faces as Contused H. Latina, Kermit Bolton and Hines X. Meggy – used by spammers to elude email filters and get noticed in your inbox. The upshot is that we now instinctively click delete at the first glimpse of a Chase Wang or a Jewell Mayo.
At least that’s what I do. In fact, I don’t know how many emails from Chase Wang I’d deleted before I discovered last week that Chase Wang is a real, non-fake person. He works for a PR company in California. I am sorry for ignoring you and not believing you exist in corporeal form, Chase Wang.
It can’t be easy being Chase Wang in cyberspace. You’ve got to figure that about 80% of Chase Wang’s emails are immediately erased. I imagine that if you sit in the cubicle next to Chase Wang, you spend an inordinate amount of time overhearing him on the phone saying things like, “Are you sure you didn’t get my email?”
But back to Serg. What about Lindsay Lohan and that bikini bottom? What happened to that little promise, Serg? I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t trust you with my bank account information either.