I like to think I'm wise to the ways of spammers. I've yet to take the bait and open the daily e-mails I receive from Mr. Jim Simbo and Sister and I don't know how many millions of dollars I've given up after deleting lottery winnings notices without giving them a second glance.
But today, I finally fell for it. And who wouldn't, I ask, with a title like Biscuit Constipation
? Surely the sender, a Mrs. Louise Davis, was in dire need if she was asking for my help with such a sensitive problem? Together, we'd find the culprit (Loveless Cafe, perhaps? Cracker Barrel?) and make them pay for their sins.
Too bad Mrs. Davis was actually pushing deeply discounted Viagra. I had really hoped we could bond over our more interesting gastrointestinal issues.