I like to make snarky comments to the spam email I receive. It must be some vestigial thing left over from the days before email spam—when every email you received had been laboriously typed by someone you had a reasonable expectation to be corresponding with. Like there’s someone on the other side of this who gives a rat’s ass what I think about whatever intrusion they’re precipitating in my inbox.

Yet it doesn’t stop me.

Your Secret Hookup is Waiting!

Good. They can wait. Kept me waiting long enough first.

Time for a new car?

Time for you to blow Chunks? Chunks is my goat.

Redeem Your $100 Walmart Voucher! Expires 08/23/14

Ah shucks, you shouldn’t have. Seriously. I don’t shop there.

Meet single MLB fans near you!

Screw you, MLB. Seriously? I gave you my email address so I could listen to your crappy games. Why the hell do you think I’m single anyway? Awfully damned presumptuous, don’t you think?

And so it goes as I walk through my inbox.