Glorious spam email. The constant reminder that my cock is no meatier than a roll of dimes, keeping my ego in check. The grizzled street-corner salesman, clad in sunglasses and a trench coat, peddling fake Swiss watches and pirated copies of Windows Vista. The love notes, riddled with spelling mistakes and grammatical errors, sent from “hot bitches” that want to talk dirty over IM yet have email addresses like bobjenkins@financialindustries.com.

Most of the spam I get is mediocre; its bland, poorly-written, and does not move me in the least to make a purchase or sign into my PayPal account because someone has hacked it and they need to confirm my identity. I need more than one line telling me “We carry the best watch copies on the Internet for the lowest prices” or “be a king in the bedroom make her scream for more”. You’ve targeted me as a tiny-dicked watch aficionado, which is accurate, but you’re still not speaking my language. Tug on my heartstrings a little.

Every once in a while I’ll receive something entertaining such as this:

Now that you’ve met a gal that’s hot
You wanna hump her tasteful twat.
She looks so sizzling, she’s so nice!
But would your penile size suffice?
Not sure she will long for more?
You need a dong she would adore!
But how to grow it long and thick?
Your only chance is MegaDik!
You’ll get so wanted super-size
And see wild craving in her eyes!
Your schlong will slam her box so deep,
Tonight you’ll hardly fall asleep!

So try today this wonder-pi’ll
And change your life at your own will!

Now that’s just amazing. I can almost see the top-hatted, mustachioed salesman of a late nineteenth century traveling medicine show singing these lines to a crowd of bewildered townsfolk while motioning to his well endowed Native American associate, breechcloth bulging with a massive herbalized boner. Unfortunately for the sender, only a small measure of carnivalesque excitement was captured in this email – enough for me to hover over the link before coming to my senses.

But a few weeks ago something extraordinary happened. I used to wonder how effective mass spam campaigns were – whether any consumers on the planet took these messages seriously. That all changed when I received this email:

Dear MKM, whose favorite movie is either Clerks or Donnie Darko depending on whichever direction the wind is blowing,

We know you are unhappy with the failing long-term relationship between yourself and your girlfriend and have administered excessive masturbation as a crutch to hobble over the pain it has caused you over the past year. We also know that, while showering every morning, you clean your eyelids with Kroger brand baby shampoo to wash away the crusties caused by your minor case of Blepharitis. This is especially strange because there are no Krogers in southern California; you must have come from elsewhere, say, I don’t know, Michigan or something. But I digress. You may have used this extra eye-scrubbing routine as an excuse explaining why you take 30 minute showers but we know the real reason: It’s because you spend half the time under your high-pressure shower head, face down, eyes closed, pondering your pathetic life.

So, it seems as though beating Double Dragon for the NES is still on your goal list. Don’t you think this is a pretty insignificant accomplishment? Instead of wasting hours of your short life attempting to destroy that machine gun dude at the end, you could be allocating your time in a more productive manner: learning new skills for your job, expanding your mind by reading and writing, or growing a gigantic boner that will strike fear in the hearts of your partners. That’s what’s really important.

Why not take this opportunity to ratchet up your cock size? We bet it will make you feel at least a little better – hell, it won’t make you feel any worse than you already do. With the increased length and girth you could start answering all those Craigslist casual encounters ads seeking males with giant penises. Just remember to double-bag it. Seriously. Also, don’t be so anal with the radio volume knob in your car. It doesn’t need to be exactly at four bars all the time.

You have nothing to lose. Click the link below and prepare yourself for a life-changing event. And stop picking at your skin. Pores are not zits.

Anyways, I’m about two weeks into taking these growth pills and the only thing that has increased is the frequency of anal leakage. Patience, my boy. Patience. I have two bottles left – I’ll keep you posted, Internet.