I have a pretty good spam filter, but occasionally something gets through, and invariably it’s something to do with making my girlfriend happy. (These people really need to do their market research.) Anyway, the spam generators attach a piece of prose to try to fool the spam filter into thinking that it’s a legitimate e-mail. Usually it’s gobbledygook, but today’s trip into poesy is a combination of Lewis Carrol, Rudyard Kipling, Ernest Hemingway, and Dr. Seuss:
The sloping sand, and rushed up to us, prostrating and very
speedily i found confirmation of my theory. The hall door
a moment ago. I will show her the say, sir, to a good no!
said major burnaby with bedroom door was open gust for a
minute? I did.
Who says literature is dead? It does.