I Hunt Down Spam Bots from my Comment Boxes

3 Sep

You don’t know this, but my site is swarming with Spam bots. Don’t worry, they can’t affect you–no, these spam bots (do I capitalize “spam”?) [Editor’s Note: Only if you’re talking about the meat-product.]

You don’t know this, but my site is swarming with delicious Spam bots.

Delicious violence!

[Editor’s Note: We need to hire back that designer.]

Seriously, though. Every day when I sign on, below the folder marked “Comments” is a folder marked “Spam.” Inside the spam folder is all the comments left by spam bots that are programmed to sift through blog posts, searching for key words to latch onto–key words that apply to the product being sold by the spam bot’s creator. For instance, if I mention Viagra in a blog post, it’s almost assured that I’ll get a comment that reads something like this:

“Great blog. Really shed some light on the choices I have when it comes to my ED medication. Thnx!”

And that comment’s commenter will be a link to a discount ED medicine web site.

Every now and then, I’m tempted to let a spammer stay. This is usually when they appeal to my sense of vanity–when the comment they use to advertise is so vague as to possibly be believed as legitimate. Here’s an example from a floral website.

“This is really great. Adding to my blogroll!”

Here, you’d only know it was a spam bot if you looked at its source.

Anyway, I’m getting longwinded, and I’m sure that by going half a page without a reference to genitals or misogyny, I’ve lost three-quarters of my readers (I’m looking at you, dad), but with no further adieu, my adventure.

“EDITOR!” I scream from my office. My shirt is off. I’ve spread butter on my chest.

“What?” Editor asks, throwing the door open. “What’s wr–” He sees my glistening chest and in it–his own reflection, and in that–years of crushing disappointment and a face that only a mother could decide to go ahead and put up for adoption.

“These SPAMMERS!” I say, slamming an indignant fist on my desk. My other, more amicable fist reaches over and rubs the owies out of his brother.

“Is there not a spam blocker on the site?” Editor asks, taking a few steps toward my desk.

“There is, but I’m tired of having to sift through this crap. I’m tired of my site being used for shameless plugs!” A comment from a hair-plug bot immediately appears in the spam folder. “How the hell did they do that?!” A religious group’s bot immediately inquires as to my salvation. “That’s it!” I say, standing.

“Kyle, stay calm. Every time you say ‘That’s it,’ something terrible happens. Just stay calm. Relax.” A beep from my computer tells Editor and I that a new comment has just arrived. It’s from an all-natural relaxation supplement. “All right. Go burn someone to the ground,” Editor says.

My first stop is at the offices of a discount pharmaceutical company, who gave me such gems as this:

“Gr8 post! Are you tired of letting *her* down? Try our products NOW!”

Although I am absolutely tired of letting her down, I am offended beyond measure. They also sent me this:

“Wow. Informative. You really know your stuff, don’t you?”

The first giveaway that this was a bot was that it called my blog “informative.” Anybody who’s anybody knows that I don’t know my stuff. I don’t know stuff.

I find the building where the company is located. It’s a man’s house in a suburban neighborhood south of Dallas.

I knock on the door.

The door receives my knock gracefully, and without fear. I eyeball the door for a moment. It’s Oak. Figures. The door opens to a man who looks much like me. He’s white and a man. He might as well be my brother.

“Brother?” I ask, my voice filled with shock and wonder.

The man looks confused. he runs his hair back over his hair, which is pulled back tightly into a pony tail that hangs down to his belt. his mustache is twitching slightly in the breeze. He looks at me with his one good eye and asks me what business I have with him.

“My name is Kyle. I’m from IronKyle.com,” I say. He looks at me blankly. “I am IronKyle.” He looks at me blankly. “I am IronKyle from IronKyle.com” Believing he’d fallen asleep, I snap my fingers inches from his face. His head jerks back and he swats at the space where my hand had been, but my hand was already back at my side. My hand is too fast. And too furious.

I’m still smiling approvingly at my hand when he asks me again what I want.

“You’re spamming the shit out of my site, man. I want you to stop.”

“IronKyle.com, you said?”

“Yea. You’ve been targeting me for weeks. I’m not your golden goose, you understand?”

“Golden goose? Listen, I’m not targeting you. The bot runs on an algorithm. It looks up keywords no matter how many,” he pauses, smiling deviously, “or how few hits a web site gets.”

My hand twitches in response, longing to make contact with his stupid, white face.

“Just watch it, spammer.” I say. “Just. Watch it.”

I walk down his drive to my car. I open the driver-side door, remove a half eaten cheeseburger from a bag in the passenger seat, and throw it as hard as I can at his rear window. A majestic explosion of beef, mustard, pickles and lettuce.

“How many hits do you think that got?” I ask, flipping him off and getting back into my car. I drive away.

Realizing that I just threw half my lunch at a stranger’s car, I decide to go home and get some food. I eat a bountiful meal of peanut butter, large pieces of cheese, and beer and fall asleep on the kitchen floor. When I wake up, I have spam comments from hair growth companies, online poker leagues, and online colleges–but none about erectile dysfunction.

The End.



5 Responses to “I Hunt Down Spam Bots from my Comment Boxes”

  1. Rinatkaallka September 17, 2010 at 12:56 am #

    Как не заболеть осенью Ребенок пошел в сад, я не работаю, скоро все-равно переезжаем и не очень-то и хочется, в случае в случае если откровенно. Посоветуйте, чем заняться, чтобы не отупеть абсолютно?

  2. Rinatkaallka September 17, 2010 at 4:55 am #

    идеальный женский размер одежды Мой мужик меня уже достал! такое чувство, что на него омрачаю наслали или же что-то из этой темы!!! Он не может сыскать никак работу, прги том, что он её реально ищет! Вот сегодня, к примеру, он первый рабттал и хренакс – у него машина сломалась!!! Всё! Какая уж здесь работа- уволен наз! Поздравила его , крича с первым и последним рабочим днем! До этого он устраивался на работу – всё сделал, все доки собрал – вдруг бааа, как оказалось нужна справка, которая стоит очень дорого, опять задержечка, нужно подкопить денег на эту справку , собственно, с сег. дня он и обязан был поработать для той справки.Я вся на взводе! Уже не знаю, что делать! Всё злит, всё нервирует, еще и беременна, и починка планируем сделать, в итоге я работаю, а этот козел не может никак устроиться, а устроился – вот, пожалуйста!!! Успокойте меня пожалуйста, девочки!!!!

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  3. Rinatkaallka September 17, 2010 at 7:10 am #

    Стоит ли? Вопрос мужикам Девочки, как вы думаете, можно во время беременности пантовые ванны применять? Вообще-то я давно про них слышаал. Мол чуеса творят, хочу испробовать ОЧЕНЬ_ОЧЕНЬ, но жду ребенк

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