OK, not really. I hate it just like you do. But every once in a while something interesting is spit up by the random word generators that they use to evade your spam filter. For instance, one diabolical software peddler has sent me emails with the following names in the sender field:

Mailboxes B. Sideswiped
Emptiness P. Assessments
Occupying F. Negroid
Paradoxes B. Lambasts
Neapolitan M. Ungrateful
Shoddiness Q. Outmaneuvers
Mercurial P. Medicate
Debtor H. Gibberish
Marseillaise S. Recessio
Correlations V. Afield
Typist C. Detestation
Anger H. Ruby
Idolatrous B. Plot

and the winner, the one that I may legally change my name to:

Multiplex H. Misfire

If I didn’t know better, I’d think that these names were the product of a higher order of intelligence. It’s the middle initials that really make them work.

Some bootleg watch peddler keeps sending me emails with long, strange subject lines like the following:

Her initial defensiveness had been replaced by indignation. It's funny in 1882. And the joke is, it would be a novel, he almost said to Charlie Merrill. Dimly, from the afterdeck, Geoffrey could hear a gang of men singing a shanty in bellowing, off-key voices. It was a gesture of affection, he said. I still care about the book. When they put me up on the stand in Denver. He spoke rapidly, urgently, eyes flashing, riveted on her face — ;he was positive in that moment that his life might depend on what he was able to say in the next twenty seconds. Yes, Paul could suddenly see it — and in an instinctive way he understood exactly how such a scene, absurdly melodramatic as it might be, could be milked for suspense.

And a stock solicitation that I just received concluded with this excellent bit of accidental poetry:

Of talk swim
And spend talk
lie sing change
wrong know fill
them see cough
those swim start
on tell swim
Which travel ask
An borrow close
A spell work
super go make

Super go make, indeed.