Remove Me From Your List

Spam. It stinks. Spam in my inbox. Spam on my blog. WordPress.
So depressed. Google stressed. Hackers. Slackers. Bad foreign actors.
Grumpy Cat phishing schemes on big screen live streams. Cease
and desist. Unsubscribe me. Count me out. Remove me from your list.

Is this spam? No, it’s a note from Jeff Bezos. Was my delivery guy nice?
Like the postman, did he ring twice? Package damaged? Bummer.
Jeff can fix it. Here, enter my Social Security number. Use both hands.
Not just the last four digits. Jeff, you little rascal, don’t share the size
of my underwear. You have nothing to gain, asking about my Hanes.
Unsubscribe me. Count me out. Remove me from your wish list.

Spam. Snail mail. Escargot. That’s precious cargo. How much is this
gonna cost me, bro? Hey Snowden! I’m no chump. Don’t document
my dumps. Don’t slam my poetry. Don’t mock my odes. Leave
my epic haiku sonnets alone. While you’re at it, untap my phone.
Unsubscribe me. Count me out. Remove me from your shit list.

Spam. It bytes. Clickbait and switch. Trojan horses on porno sites.
My eye pad WikiLeaks. Text a giant techno geek. Some whiz kid
in Belarus stole my name. Has he no shame? He must be bored.
Being me, I mean. My hard drive. My flipping floppy disks. Wiped
them clean. Unsubscribe me. Count me out. The real me, I mean.
Eating tacos in Chicago. He’s never been to Springfield, let alone Minsk.