With the semester winding down, I indulged myself for three minutes of deleting the garbage from my spam filters. In my Email account the subject lines always amuse. One urged me to think of myself in the crystal clear waters of some exotically named please.
Every day, Mr. Spammer, every day.
I’m getting some nice spam on the block. Some of it appeals to vanity, “Bravo, your phrase it is brilliant.”
I haven’t written anything brilliant here in some time, I’m afraid. Others are just, well, a little overzealous.
Comfortably, the article is in reality the greatest on this noteworthy topic. I concur with your conclusions and will thirstily look forward to your upcoming updates. Saying thanks will not just be enough, for the extraordinary lucidity in your writing. I will immediately grab your rss feed to stay privy of any updates. Genuine work and much success in your business efforts!
Generally my blog spam is polite. Much of it is complimenting a post or gently disagreeing with something I’ve written. I’m starting to get a lot of comments from the spammers who say they are too busy to comment, but … and that makes us all happy.
And then there’s Yoda, who’s turned to the dark side. “In it, something is.”
Taught the next-to-last class of the semester today. Students are working on broadcast scripts. I went from that to a sales meeting. And from that to sitting in my office working as the paper staff put together tomorrow’s issue. It’s a nice life.
I’m now pulling readings for my comps exam. Want to help? Want to take the thing for me? It’ll only take four days of your time. Don’t worry about the weeks of studying beforehand. You won’t notice them.
I’m probably going to talk about this a lot in the next month. I’m sorry in advance.
As a break I’m reading about the treaties that came about after World War I. Hindsight is a powerful thing, but George, Wilson and Clemenceau, weren’t really doing the rest of the world — or the people from then to here — many favors. These were impossible problems to wrestle with, and fascinating to consider forensically, but everything just leads grimly to Czechoslovakia and Poland. Some of the French knew it, Wilson knew it, but no one could stop it.
It is best if you don’t look for parallels or conspiracy theories. This is, after all, light reading.
