{"id":458,"date":"2007-04-16T16:16:51","date_gmt":"2007-04-16T16:16:51","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.tuppenceworth.ie\/blog\/index.php\/2007\/04\/16\/crew-and-passengers-were-all-drowned\/"},"modified":"2007-04-16T16:23:01","modified_gmt":"2007-04-16T16:23:01","slug":"crew-and-passengers-were-all-drowned","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.tuppenceworth.ie\/blog\/2007\/04\/16\/crew-and-passengers-were-all-drowned\/","title":{"rendered":"“Crew and Passengers Were All Drowned”"},"content":{"rendered":"

Some day an enterprising tech journalist may write a history of spam, from it\u2019s earliest days<\/a> to the present. Though primarily identified with e-mail, spam is an imperialist substance, and has also colonised message boards, chat rooms, blogs and, more recently, Skype<\/a>. In the public imagination though, the classic form remains the e-mail. Within the generic grouping of \u201cSpam??? there have been many styles and modes. Back in the day, when I was using hotmail as my only account, my spam consisted largely of offers of pornography (E.g.\u201cNasty Anal Fruit Salad<\/em>???. All examples in this post are from genuine spam messages by the way) and penis extension (“Penis enlarge patch will make you dick so large you will be able to park a car on it<\/em>???). I was grateful for these generous offers, because God knows, it\u2019s never been easy to find porn online. Sometime later, the porn offers fell away, to be replaced by debt consolidation, and credit card pitches (“Refinnace your loan, heart-spoon \u2013<\/em>“). Again, these were welcome, as I\u2019d run up huge debts on porn. Sometime later, we entered the era of the quintessential spam item: Viagra (\u201cTired with weak penis? Want to have sex all night long? Girls don’t love you anymore?<\/em>???. It\u2019s like you\u2019re tellin\u2019 my life story, dude.) Having worn myself out on credit-purchased internet smut, these e-mails arrived like the cavalry, just in time to save me from terminal inconcupicense.<\/p>\n

These days, Fergal 2.0, the broadband version, is a more prudent, more reflective adult than the dial-up edition of the turn of the century, and the spam he receives is consequently of a more staid nature. Words of sage financial advice abound (\u201cThis is a Real Business not a fly by night, Get in Monday, Don’t Regret later!!<\/em>???), as befits my position as a man of means. Others seek the wisdom of my great life experience (\u201cWhat Is Your Opinion?<\/em>??? asks sockmonsuterojrx@paulbunyantrail.com) or pay homage to me with titles at once hip and professional (\u201cBoogie Envoy<\/em>??? went the title of a recent note from one lstrengkjubh@cosmicinfotech.com. Thank you kindly, but I prefer \u201cGroove Ambassador???)<\/p>\n

Not only are these industrious spammers aware of my upward social mobility, they seem also aware of my taste for poetry. Here, clearly an experiment in the \u201ccut up??? technique of William Burroughs, is a bravely avant-garde piece which arrived into my inbox only recently:<\/p>\n


\nIt or recover<\/strong>
\nBy
\nJudson Echols<\/strong><\/p>\n

of bauchle;
\nand if I was you I would have a try at her again.
\nDunkirk.
\nWe left our horses at the post, and found a guide to Bazins
\nShe was walking ever the faster, and looking fain in front of her; but trembling of her very hands, besought me to be gentle.
\nI saw, for the aware of an uneasiness that I could scarce explain.
\nIt seemed there a wame and a wheen words;
\nthough Ill can never deny that he fought had cast it away again was little to he wondered at;
\nand I was inclined I will be going alone, she said.
\nIt is alone I must be seeing him.
\nforth.
\nMy mind misgives me, it will be some ill to Alan.
\nOpen it, laying his hand on his bosom, outraged in both characters – and I bid were so misguided as to lose her;
\nand not afterwards when it is quite although I was well pleased, yet I was a little sad also, and thought
\nto be in some concern upon his daughters health, which I believe was transaction.
\nHes no very bonnie, my dear, but hes leal to them he marvelled to see so much devotion as it used to be changed into the her body seemed in the nature of a cruelty.
\nThere was a corner<\/em><\/p>\n

Mr. Echols here marries the romantic style with the halting, shuddering nature of modern experimental poetry. This is surely a post-modern trick, cannily using the language of the period romance novel (lots of \u201cfains??? and \u201cbosoms??? and \u201cbonnies???) for aesthetic effect, yet undermining the very convention Echols purports to homage by breaking up the flow of language. In attacking the narrative in such a physical way, Mr. Echols, in a very real sense, destroys the gender roles and political assumptions implicit in the romantic genre.<\/p>\n

Even this profound work must pale in the face of the bleak yet elegiac vision of Venice Gardener (I think that\u2019s his name, although it could be a nom de plume, like \u201cDublin Lawyer???). The fragrant romance of Echols is echewed in favour of an unremitting melancholy, and the light-hearted title is but a cruel mockery of the repeated lament at the poem’s powerful and profound close.<\/p>\n

How R U Lately<\/strong>
\nBy
\nVenice Gardener
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

is absent template
\nspent in dressing, driving, dining and dancing;
\nin skimming novels, and love the poor worm, who tried to be patient, brave, and cheerful, last long.
\nhe got interested in spite of himself, and before he
\nis absent template
\nis absent template <\/p>\n

“were you afraid of in my prophetic bones that something is wrong,’ said mrs jo, looking
\ncrew and passengers were all drowned.
\nhe inveighed against the injustice
\ncrew and passengers were all drowned.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"Some day an enterprising tech journalist may write a history of spam, from it\u2019s earliest days to the present. Though primarily identified with e-mail, spam is an imperialist substance, and has also colonised message boards, chat rooms, blogs and, more recently, Skype. In the public imagination though, the classic form remains the e-mail. Within the generic grouping of \u201cSpam??? there have been many styles and modes. Back in the day, when I was using hotmail as my only account, my spam consisted largely of offers of pornography (E.g.\u201cNasty Anal Fruit Salad???. All examples in this post are from genuine spam messages by the way) and penis extension (“Penis enlarge patch will make you dick so large you will be able to park a car on it???). I was grateful for these generous offers, because God knows, it\u2019s never been easy to find porn online. Sometime later, the porn offers fell away, to be replaced by debt consolidation, and credit card pitches (“Refinnace your loan, heart-spoon \u2013“). Again, these were welcome, as I\u2019d run up huge debts on porn. Sometime later, we entered the era of the quintessential spam item: Viagra (\u201cTired with weak penis? Want to have sex all night long? Girls don’t love you anymore????. It\u2019s like you\u2019re tellin\u2019 my life story, dude.) Having worn myself out on credit-purchased internet smut, these e-mails arrived like the cavalry, just in time to save me from terminal inconcupicense. These days, Fergal 2.0, the broadband version, is a more prudent, more reflective adult than the dial-up edition of the turn of the century, and the spam he receives is consequently of a more staid nature. Words of sage financial advice abound (\u201cThis is a Real Business not a fly by night, Get in Monday, Don’t Regret later!!???), as befits my position as a man of means. Others seek the wisdom of my great life experience (\u201cWhat Is Your Opinion???? asks sockmonsuterojrx@paulbunyantrail.com) or pay homage to me with titles at once hip and professional (\u201cBoogie Envoy??? went the title of a recent note from one lstrengkjubh@cosmicinfotech.com. Thank you kindly, but I prefer \u201cGroove Ambassador???) Not only are these industrious spammers aware of my upward social mobility, they seem also aware of my taste for poetry. Here, clearly an experiment in the \u201ccut up??? technique of William Burroughs, is a bravely avant-garde piece which arrived into my inbox only recently: It or recover By […]","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[662],"class_list":["post-458","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-general","tag-general"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.tuppenceworth.ie\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/458","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.tuppenceworth.ie\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.tuppenceworth.ie\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.tuppenceworth.ie\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.tuppenceworth.ie\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=458"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.tuppenceworth.ie\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/458\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.tuppenceworth.ie\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=458"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.tuppenceworth.ie\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=458"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.tuppenceworth.ie\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=458"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}