When I have writer’s block, I check my junk mail.

Or the spam on Not Keeping Score. On any given day, I get about 50 spam comments on my blog (russian mail-order wives, vicodin, porn, help-china-take-over-the-world) and for the most part, I “Mark All As Spam” and delete (yes, I know: there is a plug-in for this, but I am either lazy, stupid, or perhaps like sifting through lines of hyperlink)

I’ve thought of doing a few creative things with the spam my blog generates: found poetry, desktop wallpaper, bathroom reading…

But no. Today, I scrolled through the junk until I was stopped by two really wonderful pieces of spam, convincing and creative (I am always smitten with creative spam*[1].) What wonderful writing fodder! Is it strange I get my story ideas from online blog spam? Ah, modernity.

Of the below, one spam text is evidently from an online mobile phone dealer, the other, for viagra. I’ll let you guess which was which.

Spam #1:
“Eh…. I can’t be bothered with anything lately. Listen, there’s more. Lots more.

[A 19th century man, bespeckled and hunched over a worn oak table centered squarely in the middle of a dark library, closterphobic with books. The man, head in hands, is visibly tired and discouraged. He raises and then shakes his head, rubs his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. "Eh..." he sighs, and thinks to himself how narrow-focused and love-less he has become. "I can't be bothered..." He has been searching all day, for days, perhaps for his whole life, for something in these texts, only to realize-- "Listen, there's more," whispers a voice from a directionless place, "Lot's more." The man turns around, eyes wide: the books have spoken.]

See? Instant story.

Spam #2:
“Lady Astor: Mr. Churchill, you’re drunk!
Winston Churchill: Yes, and you, Madam, are ugly. But tomorrow, I shall be sober. ”

[Perfect dialogue. No narrative needed.]

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*[1] This is not the first time I have blogged about the creative virtues of spam.