Spiced Dada in a Can

As we brazenly plaster our email address all over the digital space, and opt to have our site hosted by a cheap, Spanish server somewhere unknown – we get a massive amount of spam.

Usually, it’s the same old junk… promises of building my girth and marrying me off to a well behaved Russian girl.

But recently, the spammers have been getting creative, and a few days ago we received a chopped up extract from Appearances Notes of Travel, East and West by Goldsworthy Lowes Dickinson.

Whether it’s because I’ve been drinking too much and sleeping too little; or whether it’s purely because submissions are drying out as everyone gets real jobs… either way, I thoroughly enjoyed what this arsehole did to these magnificent words.

His aggressive entering turns the passage into a poem, and reminds me of the nonsensical poetry of Tristan Tzara.

What the fuck am I saying?
It’s just fucking spam… beautiful, poetic, inbox-filling spam.

Ficance. It is we poets who create significance, and for that reason Nature hates
us. She is afraid of us, for she knows that we condemn her. We have standards

before which she shrinks abashed. But she has her revenge; for poets are incarnate.
She owns our bodies; and she hurls us down Niagara with the rest, with

the others that she loves, and that love her, the virile big-jawed men, trampling
and trampled, hustling and hustled, working and

asking no questions, falling as water and dispersing as spray. Nature

is force, loves force, wills force alone. She hates the

intellect, she hates the soul, she hates the spirit. Nietszche understood her
aright, Nietszche the arch-traitor, who spied on the enemy, learned her secrets, and
then went over to her side. Force rules

the world." I must have said something ban  al about progress, for the voice broke
out: "There is no progress! It is always the same river! New waves succeed for ever,
but always in the old forms. History tells, from beginning to end,

the same tale--the victory of the strong over the sensitive, of the active over the
reflective, of intelligence over intellect. Rome conquered Greece, the Germans the
Italians, the English the

French, and now, the Americans the world! What matters the form of

the struggle,

whether it be in arms or commerce, whether the victory go to the sword, or

to shoddy, advertisement, and fraud? History is the perennial conquest of
civilisation by barbarians. The little islands before us, lovely with trees and
flowers, green oases in the rushing river, it is but a few years and they will be

engulfed. So Greece was swallowed up, so Italy, and so

will it be with England. Not, as your moralists maintain, because of her vices, but
because of her virtues. She

is becoming just, scrupulous, humane, and therefore she is doomed. Ignoble though
she be, she is yet too noble to survive; for Germany

and America are baser than she. Hark, Hark to Niagara! Force, at all costs! Do you

hear it? D

That’s right… we’re publishing spam now.
Let they who sent the last articles, cast the first stones.

Fuck you all,
George.