Today I received possibly the weirdest spam in the history of the internet, which I have replicated verbatim below, as otherwise who would believe it?

Two thirty four sixty five? Hey, no sweat. I'll get right on it. As soon as I figure out where I'm going to find the cash to keep my fucking internet connection live and buy a baloney sandwich. Sure, sure, no problema...

But speaking of pieces of... mind, here's a picture (below) of my new girlfriend, Nyquil. George Sessum, knowing I was hard up, Fed-X'd her to me (thanks man!) And man, this lady is something else, I don't mind telling you. If you find that I'm not blogging all that much in the days ahead, you won't have to wonder why. That's right, she's got me taking out the trash, doing the dishes, building a deck, putting in the Fall tulip bulbs, vacuuming, dusting, ironing, cooking... Mother Fucker! I mean, I have never worked so hard for a little piece of tail. But she do have a nice one, oh my, so I'm not really complaining. Plus, because she's totally illiterate, she has no idea what I'm writing about her here. "No, Hon, I was just signing up for the Martha Stewart Book Club so I could get some more decoupage tips."

Sigh. I wish. Which is not to say I never hear from way cool net grrrlz. Because I do. All the time. Here's just a handful of the kinds of questions their ACTUAL SUBJECT LINES ask me every day...

RageBoy, are you 30 days behind on your mortgage?
RageBoy, are you happy with the size of your penis?
RageBoy, are you into hardcore?
RageBoy, are you making good use of your time?
RageBoy, are you naughty or nice?
RageBoy, how can I ask a guy out without sounding dumb?
RageBoy, are you prepared?
RageBoy, are you properly leveraging your time?
RageBoy, are you sure?
RageBoy, are you tired of waiting?
RageBoy, are you uncomfortable with the size of your manhood?
RageBoy, are your personal files backed up?
RageBoy, can I trust you???
RageBoy, do you have a healthy colon?
RageBoy, did you hear?
RageBoy, do you know if someone is watching you?
RageBoy, do you need help before payday?
RageBoy, do you sell in Germany?
RageBoy, are you dreaming of a new career?
RageBoy, ever wanted pain pills?
RageBoy, ever wanted real diet pills?
RageBoy, are you feeling the pinch?
RageBoy, are you ready for some football?
RageBoy, can your governance practices withstand heightened scrutiny?
RageBoy, hey, remember me?
RageBoy, are you ready for some action?
RageBoy, midgets? What the fuck!

Meanwhile, in Old Business, the "that asshole, Dave Winer" count is now up to several dozen! Jesus, c'mon you fuckin pussy-whipped losers! What's he gonna do, blacklist your blog and keep you from getting into Harvard? Well... perhaps this is the time for me to admit that it's all been A Big Joke! Actually, Dave and I are very close. Actually, very very close. Actually, we're queer lovers. Actually...

Uncle Dave himself says "GO FOR IT, KIDS!"

I was searching Google this morning for the phrase "that asshole, Dave Winer" to see if anyone had beaten me to the punch, as it were. Quoted, the phrase returns zero hits (try it using the title slug, above). Now, zero forms a perfect baseline for my purposes here, which I'll describe in a minute. Describing precisely why Dave Winer is an asshole would be redundant, at least to those who already know him through his writing, or, god help you, personal acquaintance. We will therefore skip over the obvious. So... having established said baseline, I framed this query...

asshole "Dave Winer"

...which returns 1,140 hits as of this date. Of course, not all of these are about Dave being an asshole himself. Some of them are Dave calling other people assholes. However, the most interesting (and recursive) hit, to my mind, was a post to LaughingMeme last April, which I replicate here for your convenience...

Winer �
Posted: Sunday 2003/04/20 16:50 -05:00 #

You know, I think Dave Winer is responsible for a significant majority of the times I've seen asshole in print in the last 18 months. Makes you wonder.

Comments

Kellan

You don't say. I actually found a supposedly first hand account a couple weeks ago illustrating the demeanor of our friend Dave. After doing a google search with the Terms "Dave Winer +Asshole" I found 24 pages of results. And here is the Googlism for Dave. Apparently He's not JUST an asshole

Posted by: Billthemarmet at April 21, 2003 11:26 AM

OK, now here's how the game works. Simply place the exact string "that asshole, Dave Winer" somewhere on your blog. The quotes and comma are optional. Then wait. Google will eventually find all such references, and as they are added to the global index, the new search button I've provided near the top of the right column (see it over there?) will serve as a day-to-day measure of Dave's fast-growing popular appeal. Easy. And fun! Except perhaps for Dave. Poor humorless Dave.

I used to think he was just a schmuck who basically meant well despite his junk-yard-dog attacks. We all have to live with these little personality flaws. (Trust me on this, I should know.) I used to think that, that is, until I experienced first-hand at BloggerCon what he's really capable of. Yeah, I saw his oh-just-my-little-jest post at Scripting. Sure, laugh it off, Monkey Boy. But no, it's not called "triangulation." It's called strangulation -- of anyone who fails to toady up to your ignorant yet imperiously delivered bullshit (Chris Lydon was doing a terrific job of that, btw.)

Don't put it off, this is important. Four little words that might send a message that the blog scene isn't anyone's private fiefdom, even if he did go to Harvard. So open a window, open a vein, and type:

that asshole, Dave Winer

Maybe he'll finally cop the crucial clue that all our base are not belong to him.

Shelley, baby, this pig's for you!

One of the many unacknowledged code phrases of the crypto-quasi-covert New Age set is: "I'm spiritual, but not religious." Search google for "spiritual but not religious" -- quoted as such -- and you'll get about 7,000 hits. Exoterically, this proclivity refers to a distrust and a concomitant turning away from organized religion. Esoterically, it refers to a belief that these believers themselves constitute the center of their own solipsistic universes. It will come as no surprise to readers of these pages in the latter days of my discontent that, yes Virginia, we're back to talking about good old down home narcissism -- the lie that poses as the truth, the cowardice that masquerades as courage, the faux enlightenment and arrogant disdain that mimics and makes a mockery of human love.

I would just like to say here, briefly, fuck you. May you be cursed to the last generation and, if there be a lower world than this to fall into in some prayerfully yearned for, dearly departed afterlife, burn brightly there until the end of time.

Me, I'm religious, not spiritual. I am bound (religio) to the body, to the earth, to woman, to breath, to voice and the vice of the vocal, the local, the broken, the spoken, the word heard but unseemly. I freely admit to the seven deadly sins of pride, envy, anger, sloth, covetousness, gluttony, and lust. I am an evil-doer, an adulterer, a lascivious wanton, a philanderer, a thief, a fraud, a perjurer, and generally, an abomination in the sight of God.

Therefore I have no doubt I am going to hell, where I hope to help pummel and punish those gentle souls whose only sin is rank stupidity, those lost lambs so much less vile than myself, to wit: the spiritual but not religious. I await that day with the same glad heart that Christians bore to the lions, like so many serving trays at an upscale garden party. With that same purified concupiscence with which certain Muslims entertain the prospect of snow-white virgins disrobed and disporting themselves for the pleasure of the Elect. With that same unborn flame of desire with which Buddhists welcome the emptiness of howling space into their hearts as if they'd just been given a million dollar shopping spree on Rodeo Drive.

I do not seek redemption, no. I do not take Jesus Christ, Zoroaster, Gautauma, Isis, Walt Disney, Pele, Satan, IBM, or any other two-bit demigod, messiah, guru, or Ascended Master as my personal trainer. Given the chance, I would instruct both Pope and Dalai Lama to kiss my ass or suck my dick, whichever came first. So to speak.

I'm a heathen, not a pagan. There's a difference.