This is wonderful. From Bruce Sterling:
Spam is now forced to mutter eerie magic charms as it routes its way past the growing host
of armed spam guards to my mailbox. 'No, no kill me,
I am not spaaaaam... Would spam speak of
"Orinoco Apocrypha"? Would mere spam muse
on "brutal Prussia," "discernable Petersburg"
and an "Acapulco assault"? I do these cultured,
verbally elaborate things in my "Pillsbury showboat,"
and hence I cannot be spam! Let me through with my
"hierarchic bronchiole", do not extinguish me o router and repeater!'
Love it.
This is poetry! We'll use it for Dig/Con next quarter.