Spam zen

Every once in a while I actually look at one of the spams that show up in my inbox, not because I have the slightest interest in whatever they're hawking, but to see the random text they use for filler. There's some interesting meditative possibilities in it.

Today's Spam Zen: When you see the chess board, it means that the insurance agent self-flagellates.

Now, what shall we make of this? Let's consider first the chess board. What does it represent? At first glance it's an icon not only of war, but of coolheaded, measured warfare. It's war as fought by the generals, not by the dogfaces in the trenches. By men whose personal courage may have already been tested – probably they would willingly stand in harm's way, and most likely did in their youth – but who have nevertheless been relegated to a swivel-chair and a duty less physically dangerous but harder on the soul: that of ordering younger men to die, and figuring out how to extract the most good from their deaths.

Moving to the next part of the sentence, what has the insurance agent done that he should so mistreat himself? Has he cheated his clients? Has he cost his employers by speaking truthfully to his clients, sinning through virtue? Or is there some secret sin in his private, non-insurance life for which he must atone?

Let's assume it's related to his profession. Insurance agents serve the function of insulating people from risk. Chess, like war, is by its nature a give-and-take of risk and sacrifice. One trades one's pawn for a queen, and occasionally gambles on one's opponent failing to discern one's plan. It's not too hard to draw a connection here between the chess board and an insurance agent in distress.

But one question remains: Why is it that the salesman's self-punishment only becomes known when you see the chess board? Surely he was aware of its presence all along, and it appears that he's been whipping himself already, independent of your perception. Moreover, why should you be looking for indications that the salesman is practicing his self-sadism? Is it perhaps a Schrödinger's Cat phenomenon, wherein he either is or is not self-flagellating until the chess board is seen, at which time the waveforms resolve themselves into one or the other? That seems the most likely explanation, albeit one that leaves open several more questions. At what point does the insurance agent let up on the whipping? Does he tire, or grow weak from blood loss, or merely continue until he dies? Is his self-torture affected by the arrangement of the pieces on the board? And if so, what does he do at checkmate?

Let's make a meme out of this. I charge you, O faithful readers, to take a random line from your spam and squeeze it like a used tea bag for insights. (Keep it clean!) I'm tagging Patrick, Hindu, Ms. Kitty (hers ought to be really interesting), and Ken. And, as always, my Lovely and Brilliant Wife.