Every so often I look through my blog’s spam file. Once in a while, a legitimate comment will go astray, and I like to rescue it from its sojourn in the bad neighborhood.
Scanning spam comments is often boring, sometimes depressing, and occasionally humorous. I don’t even understand what function these comments serve. I mean, who benefits from me buying Amoxycillin on line? And who actually buys Amoxycillin from a blog comment advertisement? There are about a dozen related messages in my file right now, exhorting me to buy Amoxycillin on line. How does that even make sense?
Then there are the messages that seem to be trying to get me to use a different blogging system or web site or something. First, they pump me up,
“you aгre judt extremely fantastic. I actually like what you’ᴠe received right here, certainly like what you’re sayinbg and tthe best way
by whicһ you ѕay it. Yoou are making it entertaining
aand yyou continue to cаre for to stsy it smart.”
Then they go on to offer a different platform. Their effort typically does not inspire me to try their product. I remain hopeful that this one was written by a poorly designed computer program, rather then by a poorly educated human.
Spam comments definitely cluster around certain posts, and it’s interesting to note which posts attract the most comments. I have no idea how it works. For example, my post entitled “Raccoons and Cherita” has garnered a lot of spam. Why?! I really wonder about the algorithm that targets those specific words! This response amused me recently:
The original blog post featured a poem about raccoons raiding my bird feeders. Apparently this commenter has an ongoing raccoon problem and is assuming that I’m now an expert in stymying raccoons. They are sorely misled. The raccoons win pretty consistently. My favorite line is the final line: “Having a look forward to look you.” I think I need to start saying that. I like the active feel of “having a look forward.” It’s much more interesting than saying “anticipating” .
Finally, my newest spam favorite, written recently in response to a three-year-old blog post about teaching struggles, is this one:
“I apologise that, I can help nothing. But it is assured, that you will find the correct decision. Do not despair.”
I love that they know their limits, yet offer empathy and a wonderful blanket reassurance. It’s so nice to know that someone cares and that they have confidence in me to work it all out.
If you have a bit of time to spare, you might just want to take a dive into your Spam file. You never know what you might find!