Of mosquitoes and (canned) meat

Many summers ago, when I was a child, I asked my older (and wiser) cousin just what the point of mosquitoes was.

"So the birds have something to eat," was his calm and learned reply.

And standing in the hot sun --scratching my forearms and neck with vehemence-- I understood how everything, including pests, had a proper function in life. No matter how irritating or obscure, everything had a purpose, though perhaps beyond the comprehension of my tiny child mind.

But being older (and wiser) now, I'm not sure where spam fits in. I don't mean the lunch meat from Hormel -- which serves to feed poor Britons -- but rather unwanted electronic mail.

For what birds are these pests nourishment? Most of the time my Bulk Unsolicited Mail (BUM) takes the form of Faulkneresque streams-of-consciousness, or at the opposite end of the spectrum, cold calls for Viagra in pidgin English. Today however, I received this pointed missive in my box, addressed to me and six other lucky recipients:

I hate to be the bearer of bad news but if you
are not making at least $1500 or more per week
from your own place then you haven't listened to
my message yet so shame on you...but you can make
a wrong right by giving me 2 minutes of your time.

This is so easy is crazy. As long as you have a phone
you too can do this. Best of all..

No Selling
No Cold Calls
No trying to recruit your friends and family.

So quit wasting precious time and call to listen.
866.727.89O8

Huh. I sure don't earn a grand and a half a week sitting at home. Come to think of it, I earn nothing. Am I wasting precious time? I asked myself rhetorically. No, no, wait. I'm sure I'll have to sell something to make this work.

What's this? No selling? No cold calls, even?

I call the number.

Voice of Opportunity: Good afternoon, thank you for calling Marshall—
Harvey: Good afternoon to you. I'm looking to speak with Kent?
Voice of Opportunity: I'm sorry, who?
Harvey: Kent. Kent.

I emphasize the name in the same manner one might say, "Television? Perhaps you’ve heard of it?"

Voice of Opportunity: I'm sorry sir. We don’t have anyone here with that name.
Harvey: Unbelieveable. He told me to call here about an amazing opportunity. Also, I think I owe him, like, three grand. I just want to know how to send it to him.
Voice of Opportunity: Uh, sir, how did you get this number?
Harvey: Can you take a message for Steve?
Voice of Opportunity: Steve?
Harvey: (Exasperated tone.) Steve is the same as Kent. Can you take a message?

And with a surprisingly cordial air he said:


Voice of Opportunity: Of course. Go right ahead.

I proceed as if leaving voicemail:

Harvey: Kent, this is Harvey, Harvey Kornbluth. I want you to know that I am ab-satively pos-olutely revved up to hop on board. Give me a shout so we can pull the trigger on this bitch. Hit me at at XXX-XXX-XXXX again, that's Harvey Kornbluth at XXX-XXX-XXXX. We met on the beach in Oahu? I am looking forward to your call at your earliest convenience. Please do not call me before eleven in the morning.

The man on the other line starts to speak. I can’t hear him because I am busy pressing pound -- for more options.

Voice of Opportunity: Sir? Um. Sir?
Harvey: Kent is that you?
Voice of Opportunity: No, it's still me. I will forward your message for you. Is there anything else I can help you with?
Harvey: Yes, damnit. Can you please tell me about this opportunity that will change my life?

I would tell you here that he spoke at length about Ponzi schemes and reselling Beanie Babies, but in truth I called the number twice and just got a disconnected tone.

Fine. Maybe I called more than than that.

Sunday nights can be dull you know.  I wonder how the other six fared.