A Plea: Stop Eating the Spam and Leave My Penis Alone

Recently I got an electronic mail account on a computer machine. However, you can only send electronic stuff through this mail. I had hoped to electronically mail cabbage and berries to my elk friends. They would have enjoyed that, unless a grizzly found it first.

So far, I have received a lot of mail, but most of it concerns my penis. It seems there are many companies vying for the opportunity to enlarge my urine thing. Some promise me better sex with pills like V I A GR A and Ci aLi S, but they offer no help finding an Elk Girl for me to have better sex with. Others wish to make my penis really, really big. Like an antler. But I probably couldn’t use it to fight, unless I used the V I A GR A to make it strong and hard. Then I could attack up high with my antlers, and down low with my penis. I would be an unstoppable juggernaut, except against a gun.

I never respond to these messages—they’re called “spam”—yet they keep sending them. I suspect there’s only one reason: someone is answering. Lots of someones—lots of poor someones who need help with their penises. If no one said, “Dear V I A GR A, Thank you for contacting me, I would love your product,” then the companies would stop sending them. Who are these people and why do they trust this mail? If I had trouble with my penis, I would prefer not to seek help from electronic spam, but from a nice moist chunk of food spam. Or better yet, from a female with boobs.