by Tequila Mockingbird
Los Angeles, CA (The Hollywood Times) 10/28/25 – Spam used to come in a can. You fried it, you flipped it, you felt a little guilty, but it was salty and honest. Then one day, the world got digital, and Spam evolved. It left the supermarket and invaded the inbox, the comment section, and your peace of mind. Now it’s everywhere—clickbait in your dreams, pop-ups in your soul. Once upon a time, we worried about too much sugar. Now, it’s too much spam.
Some people can’t get enough of it. They gorge on attention like it’s a buffet of validation. Every “Buy now!” and “Congratulations, you’ve won!” is a little dopamine hit. And behind it all, somewhere in the back alleys of cyberspace, there’s a spammer in slippers, laughing his way through the firewalls of your sanity. He knows your weaknesses: curiosity, loneliness, and that tiny human hope that this time, maybe the message is real.
But spam isn’t just email—it’s culture. It’s the overflow of everything: ads, noise, fake news, influencer apologies. We’ve built an entire civilization on copy-paste capitalism. The line between communication and contamination has blurred, and the world hums with an endless scroll of “too much.” We keep clicking because silence feels suspicious. We’re terrified of the blank screen.
So where does all the spam come from? It comes from us. From our hunger to be seen, to sell, to shout into the void. Spam is the echo of our collective craving, bouncing back through the wires, disguised as opportunity. We made it. We feed it. And if we ever stopped long enough to listen past the noise, we might hear the faint sound of truth trying to break through.
