Ever so slowly, the gibberish in my spam is starting to become coherent (well, almost) sentences:

“then what has become of silicosis smallfry revolutionaries her?” do,” said one of the girls, “is sheetwork to surrender as jawboned mateyness quickly as possible, before confident curvature that field gun the walls would protect her

String together random words often enough and I guess you’re bound to come up with something (almost) understandable. At this rate, the spammers won’t need to steal from literature in and out of the public domain.

I have this terrible sinking feeling that the whole island of Lost is somehow going to turn out to be some weird Rambaldi cult thing.

I think I’ve known all along that they didn’t know exactly where they were going. I’m just worried that’s starting to show.