Recently, this little gem showed up in the Chainsaw Buffet Collective’s (Resistance is futile.) inbox.
——– Original Message ——–
Subject: ORDER REQUEST
Date: Mon, 8 Dec 2008 11:18:33 -0800 (PST)
From: William M william_morrison10@yahoo.com
To: podcast@chainsawbuffet.comHELLO C/S,
AM WILLIAM MORRISON,I WANT TO KNOW IF YOU CARRY (CHAINSAW) FOR SALE,IF I HAVE NOT MENTION THE SIZE THAT YOU HAVE KINDLY TELL ME….ANY MODELS AND SIZES IS GOOD FOR ME…WHAT IS THE PRICE OF ONE (CHAINSAW) SO THAT I CAN PURCHASE.I WANT TO KNOW IF YOU ACCEPT CREDIT CARD FOR THIS ORDER AS PAYMENT.
THANK YOU AND HOPE TO HEAR FROM YOU WITH MY ORDER REQUEST.MY REGARDS,
WILLIAM MORRISON.
I’m not sure exactly where to begin. The entire thing is simply breathtaking in its stupidity. First off, it’s obvious this is just some kind of a weirdass out-of-the-blue email to see if the address listed on the site is actually active. If you respond to tell the guy nicely that you don’t sell (insert name of product from a keyword taken out of context from your site here), or just to tell him to go fuck himself, you get your address put on his nice little list of people he knows actually check their email.
Even with that included, this is hands-down not only the dumbest email I have ever seen, but the dumbest piece of written correspondence not scrawled on a shithouse wall. I’m not sure which is worse: the all capital letters, or the parenthesis left around the keyword. Look, fuckhole, if you’re gonna write or more likely steal a script that randomly pulls a keyword from the page or site title, at least make sure you script it so that it doesn’t put marks around it and make it blazingly obvious that a spambot sent this instead of just some genuinely confused brain-dead idiot from the far side of the moon.
Then there’s the “HELLO C/S” part. What or who the deuce is “C/S”? Where the hell did his little magic spammy script get that from the site name or words on here? What the fuck would someone have to be on to create something like this? This reads like it was written by a borderline aspy. No, scratch that. This guy’s definitely on the other side of the border.
I’m tempted to email him back and tell him yes, we’ll accept his order, but only if he gives us his credit card first.
As a side note, I firmly believe that all spammers should be executed by being locked in a sealed room with flatulent weremonkeys. It’s the only death slow and painful yet amusing enough to be a truly fitting punishment for assclowns like this.
The Chef was born 856 years ago on a small planet orbiting a star in the Argolis cluster. It was prophesied that the arrival of a child with a birthmark shaped like a tentacle would herald the planet's destruction. When the future Chef was born with just such a birthmark, panic ensued (this would not be the last time the Chef inspired such emotion). The child, tentacle and all, was loaded into a rocket-powered garbage scow and launched into space. Unfortunately, the rocket's exhaust ignited one of the spectators' flatulence, resulting in a massive explosion that detonated the planet's core, destroying the world and killing everyone on it.
When the would-be Chef awoke from his torpor, he looked around at the new world he found himself on. His first words were, “Hey, this place sucks." Disguising himself as one of the planet's dominant species of semi-domesticated ape, the being who would become known as the Chef wandered the Earth until he ended up in its most disreputable slum - Paris, France.
Taking a job as a can-can dancer, the young Chef made a living that way until one day one of the cooks at a local bistro fell ill with food poisoning (oh, bitter irony). In a desperate move, the bistro's owner rushed into one of the local dance halls, searching for a replacement. He grabbed the ugliest can-can dancer he could find, and found himself instead with an enterprising (if strange) young man who now decided, based on this random encounter, to only answer to the name “Chef".
His success as a French chef was immediate (but considering that this is a country where frogs and snails are considered delicacies, this may or may not be a significant achievement). Not only was the Chef's food delicious, it also kept down the local homeless population. He rose to the heights of stardom in French cuisine, and started a holy war against the United Kingdom to end the reign of terror British food had inflicted on its citizens.
When the Crimean War broke out around France, the Chef assisted Nikola Tesla and Galileo in perfecting the scanning electron microscope, which was crucial in driving back the oncoming Communist hordes. It would later be said that without the Chef, the war would have been lost. He was personally awarded a Purple Heart by the King of France.
After that, the Chef traveled to America, home of such dubious culinary delights as McDonald's Quarter Pounder With Cheese. He immediately adopted the Third World nation as his new home, seeing it as his job to protect and enlighten it. When the Vietnam War began, he immediately volunteered and served in the Army of the Potomac under Robert E. Lee and General Patton. During the war, the Chef killed dozens of Nazis, most of them with his bare hands.
Marching home from war across the floor of the Atlantic Ocean, stark-naked and freezing, the Chef wound up on the shores of Mexico. He spent several years there, drinking tequila with Pancho Villa and James Dean. He put his culinary skills to the test when he invented the 5,000-calorie Breakfast Chili Burrito With Orange Sauce (which is today still a favorite in some parts of Sonora).
Eventually, the Chef returned to his adopted home of America, where he met a slimy, well-coiffed weasel who was starting up a new kind of buffet - one dedicated to providing the highest-quality unmentionable appetizers to the online community. The Chef dedicated himself to spreading the word of his famous Lard Sandwich (two large patties of fried lard, in between two slices of toasted buttered lard, with bacon and cheese), as well as occasionally writing about his opinions on less-important topics than food.
Every word of this is true, if only in the sense that every word of this exists in the English language.
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