Bushy What Now?

By Jon

There's probably nothing in the world that warms my heart like Spam. Now, I could rant on and on about junk e-mails... well, maybe not, since I'm not one of those sad little pussies that find every inconvenient thing in their life worth bitching about on their livejournal while using little emoticons like "ambivalently stressed" because some guy from Zimbabwe is trying to get their bank account information so they can sell them porn, cut-rate herbal penis enlargements, Viagra that's 40% sawdust, and mortgages at discount prices. You gotta give it some amount of kudos, though- there's something about it that made me open up Microsoft Word instead of Deus Ex. Goddamn you, Spam. I could be blasting the ever-loving shit out of communist conspiracy nuts that may just be right about Roswell right now. They go down nice after a few shots to the balls, they really do.

I have top respect Spam's resiliency. You filter out certain phrases from your email...
"cunt-gobbling sluts"
"hot live lesbo action"
"cum-drenched pussies drenched in hot white cum"
"politics"

The list goes on and on. And to adapt, they do what's being done to my poor little virgin inbox right now: they pretend they're someone you know, and put some crazy nonsense like "you didn't call last night" and "about last Thursday's meeting." Little do they know that I don't know anyone named Barbara, nor do I work at a securities firm. So they're tossed immediately.

Recently, however, there's been an outbreak of Spam that I've actually not deleted, out of pure wonder. This stuff makes so little sense, that I've actually kept them, for their subjects alone. I've got four now, but I'll be collecting more (hey, everyone needs a hobby) and placing them up for all four of our readers to enjoy.

(A little disclaimer, none of these photos were altered outside of cropping them down for file space. This is all real, insane shit I've received.)

This here is my most recent acquisition, "lark colored." Now I assume they meant "lark" as in the bird, not the old phrase meaning "good time." Good times aren't often colored anything, though the 70’s sitcom Good Times had colored people in it. Maybe that's what they meant. The world may never know.

I have absolutely no idea what it means. Perhaps they were selling some form of very oppressive cleanser. Maybe they were, in fact, commie conspiracy nuts, and this was some sort of message to their leader that was somehow passed on to me. Perhaps by intercepting this e-mail, I held off some form of revolution in a South American city until it's next week, when it's the guerilla revolutionary's turn.

...Maybe I should just stop playing Deus Ex for a while. It’s starting to affect me.

...Or maybe that’s what they want me to do?

Now, I'm just a lower-upper-lower-kind of sideways-middle class American boy, and as a result, I'm not all that familiar with the specific personal qualities of plumage, so this one is lost on me. Maybe their plumage is somewhat more testable then mother, maybe not, but I'm not one to judge the specific testability of said plumage, so I withhold any sort of comment. Don't worry though, folks. I saved the best for last.

The first truly bizarre email subject I have received, the most insane of them all, and the jewel in my collection. "bushy Sweeney Taucheranzugs." The pure, simple, insane beauty of this subject makes all others pale in it's comparison. Taucheranzugs was an unknown word to me, and I had no idea what in the name of God it might have meant. I did a Google search, but, as you can see, this only asks more questions, instead of answering them: Taucheranzugs

I was able to derive the origin of the word (apparently German) from context, and the .de extension in the address. Now, it was a simple trip to babelfish to check, and I receive this result:

Diver Suit.

Bushy Sweeney Diver Suit.

This is quite possibly the oddest thing I have ever seen, and I am honored to share it with you.

Email: shigbigger@netscape.net