Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated
Written by: Alex Sandell

Being dead sucks. Everyone sends you little congratulation notes over your dying, which is kind of cool, but it isn't worth the price. People keep calling, "are you really dead?!?" they ask me, completely unaware of how ridiculous that sounds. "No," I answer them, "I am not dead. I was dead, and everything, but not anymore."

So, why did I die in the first place, you ask? I was sick of dealing with the incessant emails, prank phone calls, reports to my IP and "holier-than-thou" attitude of the "Spam-L" group. I wanted to be dead to them. So, I decided to kill myself, in a manner of speaking.

I figured it was a nice and tidy way to get those lifeless (excuse the morbid redundancy) little snot-nosed tattle-tale twats off of my back. I could claim I already had 3 - 5 updates written. I also still had the rest of my grandpa's letters. Let's not forget those "lost" updates that would pop up over time. Plus, there was that generous Shawn Jessup willing to put them all online for me!

I could do the page from the comfort of my grave. Kind of like John Lennon.

With my epilepsy acting up worse than it has in a year, I already had a good way to die. Actually, a fairly realistic way. So this death thing was also kind of a "test-run," I guess. How depressing.

But enough about trivial things such as my life - let's go back to those "Spam-L" morons. Let me define in a bit clearer form what "Spam-L" is. It's a group of wealthy geeks that would have been homeless D&D players before the age of computer. (I don't think D&D was actually around back then, but there was always marbles.)

One of these self-inflated, glasses wearing, zit-faced pricks works for (surprise, surprise) Microsoft. Someone else, maybe a secret spy from "Nerd Force Five", contacted Mr. Self-inflated, glasses wearing, zit-faced prick and informed him that I had the audacity to claim I would "spam you with microsoft literature" if you copied one of my updates. (It was actually the original spam update that got me in so much trouble in the first place.)

Now, Mr. Microsoft (name shortened to protect my sore fingers) was very concerned about this travesty. He ran to this strange clan (I prefer calling them a Cyber-"Klan") of upper-middle class swine and asked if anyone had heard of me. He included the link to my page.

This caused lots of these primitive C++ scholars to drag their hands over to my "cave." None of them liked what they saw. "My GAWD man, he actually has the nerve to write about the possible potential of spam?!?" "I . . . I can't believe it, he encourages people OTHER than Microsoft to send out mass-mailings!" And, most importantly, "he has a different opinion than us! This must be stopped!"

And so it began. I was the current star of their little charade and they began reporting me to my over-worked Internet Provider. They found my address through ingenious means such as looking through a cyber-phonebook. They started prank-calling. (Of course it was to the wrong number, and a friend of mine's fax-machine, but damnit, they tried.) And they emailed. Oh fuck did they email.

At first I tried to defend myself. I said that I don't think most "get rich quick" spam is justified. I admitted 99.9% of spam is useless, annoying garbage. But I also told them I had a right to type my opinions on my own webpage. It's covered by a thing called the first amendment. None of them had heard of it. They asked if it's going to be included in "Windows 2000".

Finally, I had enough. I had never been badgered this badly before. This was coming off of a long stretch of people such as Tex (as I'm sure you all remember fondly), Stephanie, GeoCities law-team, and ten-million others. Not to mention, it was coming during a very hard time in my life, health-wise (due to not sleeping because of the never-ending construction which has finally led to seizures).

I decided that I wasn't going to take it anymore. I was just going to die. I could still keep writing, after my death, so what did I have to lose?

Nothing.

But there was something I missed. A lot of you felt you had lost someone very important, even though most of you had never even met me face-to-face. I have received over a hundred letters from very emotional people who have felt very bad about my "death." Some of you thought it was just another prank. Others believed it 100%. I tried to write back to all of you with some message indicating I'm alive, but how many others just gave up and turned their backs?

Next time I die, I'm going to have to make it a bit less convincing.

I owe each and every person who cares about my writing and has grown to love the page over the past two years a sincere apology. Anyone that worried about me - I'm sorry. Sincerely. I'm so sorry, I came back to life. That's saying something.

And what about Spam-L? Spam-L can fuck themselves. Hopefully they'll just go back to their role-playing games and leave me the hell alone.

If not, there's more people on my mailing-list than they have in their swanky little excuse for a, as they like to call it, "cyber-terrorist" group, and I've heard there's strength in numbers, or something like that. Jeez, these weasels killed me once already, I only have nine lives. If I die again, I'll make sure to send you all the appropriate information on how to have Spam-L regretting they ever laid eyes on a certain Juicy Cerebellum.

*On a sadder note, Shawn Jessup was ran over by a steamroller while protesting the building of a new Wal-Mart early this morning. He managed to get back up after that, and things looked good until he was hit by a wrecking ball, smashing his entire body against the nearby "Taco-Bell". I heard they're using him for ingredients, now.

1998 Alex Sandell [All Rights Reserved] If you copy this without my permission I'll SPAM you with Microsoft literature. (Oops, did I use that one already?)

If you want to join "The Juicy Cerebellum" mailing list, simply send an email stating "hey, some of my best friends are midgets" to alex@juicycerebellum.com Thanks.

Back to the table of brains 1998

Back to the mind-map.