Great Book...

LAWL, TANKS 2 DIS BOOK I NOW NOES HOW TO SURVIVE A ZOMBIE ATTACK!

Real helpful.

LAWL ME TALK IN CAPS TEW AYE GESS YUO JUS DUN KNOE THAT WEZ LEIK NOT BEWING SERIUS DUMMY HAED BUM WIPE LOLLERZ

HELL THE WHAT. CAPS AND I'M STILL SMALL, DAMNIT.

no. It was a joke, asshole. Screw off, spamming n00b.

=p just curious... you called him a spamming newb? the guy who made this topic http://www.illusorystudios.com/faldon/m … php?t=3558

called someone a spamming newb =p

Spamming newb my ass. I've been spamming since you were in diapers, boy. Matter of fact, one time I replied to every single post on this board.

Spamming newb. I wish it were true.

They tracked me down, I was found with my head clubbed in, in my apartment in Russia. They had found me, those spam haters, tracked me to my lair, broke in my door, and hit me with an axe crudely fashioned from a motherboard and a serial cable.

Let me tell you my story, how I wound up beaten to death by spam hating citizens of the world.

It was not that I intended any harm, mind you, there were so many people who need useless ads in their e-mail accounts. It makes you feel important, or so I thought. A few here, a few there, everyone got a little spam from me. It started so simple. So easy.

Then everything went to hell. Someone started to spam me, the king of spam, the ultimate lord of crap-sending. It was unthinkable. I could not tolerate it, and started the world's first flame war. It was brutal. I was sending forty gigs of spam a night. My enemy sent enough to slow my accounts to a crawl. But I bettered him. Soon he could no longer open his accounts without them crashing.

I thought I had won. But I was wrong. The next Tuesday I received six Terabytes of spam from an unclarified source. This was bad, my foremost account was dropped, it had exceeded size restrictions excessively, and was deleted.

Now I was determined. With the combined power of my other 9 accounts, I managed to accumulate and send 100 terabytes of spam across the world. That night, everyone received my spam. It was glorious. They only received small portions of the total, but it was still glorious.

The final battle came hither. I had managed to secure my enemie's address and hometown, and I spammed him with mailing lists, both online and off. His house was on the news the next night. Buried in novelty catalogs which were air-dropped in bulk. I had finally won.

I decided to further use my talents for the good of the world. My next target was: Russia. I relocated to a small apartment in a nice sized Russian town. There I set to finding the e-mail of every single Russian who had the internet. It was glorious. It took me three months of research, but I had them all. I would bring them to their knees.

The first wave succeeded almost instantaneously. 10 thousand accounts destroyed or crippled due to sheer weight of spam. But not without cost. I lost three good Netscape accounts to experienced spammers, each acount weighted down with four to five gigs of spam. I shot them down in quick order with a strike of porn mailing lists. The fighting was intense, but I prevailed.

Soon I readied my second wave. I launched this one with twice as much success, people hadn't bothered to clean their accounts that well, and the casualties were enourmous. 12 thousand destroyed, 9 thousand mortally spammed. I was on my way to victory.

Then, a rebellion arose. Armies of computer spammers flamed me, night and day, but I countered them all with automatic spam deleters, spam blockers, and return fire mechanisms. Their army was annhilated. Three thousand destroyed, five hundred spammed beyond recognition.

From this an elite group of spammers arose, using the latest in modern spamming technology they attacked ferociously. I lost fifty percent of my accounts due to spam bombardment. I retaliated, feeding their names into my automatic mailing devices, all 900 of them. Some survived.

They came for me personally, armed with motherboard and mouse, video card and sound driver. I heard them banging on my door, surrounding my building. I spammed as fast as I could, and as I overloaded each of their e-mail accounts, they would crumple, their lifelines severed.

The door crashed in. My time was nearing an end. So I did the only thing I could. I sold my soul to a mailing list. Weapons raised, they bore down on me. And as they struck me, my conscious left my body and flowed into the internet. I was now part of spamdom. I would haunt them forever, they would not escape me.

I was free.

And that, my boy, is how I became a spam king.