November 6, 2001
I've spent too much time today dealing with things that made me want to scream. I'll tell you about two of them.
The first one was someone who delights in taking digs at people decided it was my turn. The digger tried to make me feel older than God by saying that the only reason I knew of dancer Isadora Duncan was my age. Well, no, age has nothing to do with it, since Ms. Duncan died in 1927, which was considerably before my time. The reason I remember her is the study of American history, and that there is a connection to someone in my hometown.
I had to be nice. I smiled, and did v-e-r-y patiently explain the hometown connection, but I wanted to scream. I decided that would be an overreaction, especially since there were other people around. But:
The second was some stupidity that came in the form of an auto-response from my ISP. Someone using that ISP sent me e-mail offering to help me increase my penis size. Well, I really don't have need for that, and certainly didn't request the information, so I decided this time I'd take the initiative of letting the ISP know their service was being misused for the sending of spam.
The auto-response could have been written by a comedian. It started off that I might not have sent enough e-mail header information for them to do anything about the spammer. Um, yes, I did. It went on to give painfully detailed instructions on how to do a spam report if I ever need to again. Instructions I had followed...
Then it went on to say that if I had done the thing with the header and had already followed the instructions, thanks and nevermind!
All together now:
Thanks. I feel so much better!