I Am Become Death, The Destroyer of Spam
I have thrown down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside.
They have seen my strength for themselves, have watched me rise from the darkness of war, dripping with my enemies'blood.
I swam in the blackness of night, hunting monsters, out of the ocean, and killing them one by one; death was my errand and the fate they had earned.
The Spam War is over and I have emerged victorious.
I have slain the "aunt who earned $6571 a month from her home using only her computer." I have vanquished "Earn up to $100/day. And whats awesome is Im working from home so I get more time with my family."
These spam are no more! They have ceased to be! They've expired and gone to meet their maker! They're stiff! Bereft of life, they're resting in peace! Their metabolic processes are now history! They're off the twig! They've kicked the bucket, shuffled off their mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleeding choir invisible! THESE ARE EX-SPAM!
About 7 years -- or perhaps it was months -- ago, Prince Aaron of Hanscom charged me with the sacred duty of seeking out and destroying the insidious invaders of our fair website who were bedeviling residents and visitors alike. As I rode off to combat this menace, the look on the faces of the court told me they did not expect me to triumph. There were whispers of the near invincibility of my foe -- their resilience, their skill in battle, and most of all, their relentless constitution -- a mindless, Zombie-like instinct to survive. To fight, to lose, to come back and fight again...and again -- this is what I faced.
At first, I felt nearly helpless. The daily deluge was overwhelming. I would smite 100 only to have 200 take their place. The enemy was laughing at me, toying with me. After laboring all day, finally winning the battle, I would fall exhausted into a fitful sleep -- only to awake early the next morning to discover that these apparitions from hell didn't need sleep, didn't need rest (or they were based somewhere in Europe or Asia). Peppering the many sites of PJM were 80-100 more of these demons, and the early morning combat -- on an empty stomach, mind you -- drained my strength, and sapped my will.
Eventually, it dawned on me that I, too, must develop a war strategy. I must maximize my strengths and limit my weaknesses. Only then could I meet the enemy on equal ground. Only then would the tide turn in my favor and I become master of the Spam universe.