Email spam o' the day... 3/30/2006
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was he an actor? . . . anyhow he had a portable gramophone. Yes, yes, they had all gone to the dacha! And the dogs, he remembered, had started howling when they played the gramophone. Only the woman Stepa had tried to kiss remained a complete blank . . . who the hell was she? . . . Didn't she work for the radio? Or perhaps she didn't. . . . Gradually the previous day came back into focus, but Stepa was much more interested in today and in particular in this odd stranger who had materialised in his bedroom complete with snacks and vodka. If only someone would explain it all! 'Well, now, I hope, you've remembered my name? ' Stepa could only grin sheepishly and spread his hands. 'Well, really! I suspect you drank port on top of vodka last night. What a way to behave!' 'Please keep this to yourself,' said Stepa imploringly. 'Oh, of course, of course! But naturally I can't vouch for Khustov.' 'Do you know Khustov? ' 'I saw that individual for a moment or two in your office yesterday, but one cursory glance at his face was enough to convince me that he was a hilj lflk mllr mrln m h krm fmf igjg khkljrk gjqjhfoj lj rk t sdjksdfsdfsdlgkj sdflkjsdf lksdjfsdfsdf
Geeze... I've been called a lot of things in my lifetime, even that one time when I went to the dacha; but I don't think I've ever been called a hilj lflk mllr mrln m h krm fmf igjg khkljrk gjqjhfoj lj rk t sdjksdfsdfsdlgkj sdflkjsdf lksdjfsdfsdf.
Whatever that is.
(Filed under daily spam)
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