Susan Crane

And then it happened, well it was bound to, if you give enough monkeys typewriters – they’re supposed to produce Shakespeare – and finally the spammers have sent me an email from Susan Crane – the name of the girl at Micklands County Primary school I had a pre-pubescent crush on aged 10. Wow! How disconcerting.

Of course none of us believes that aphorism about the monkeys and Shakespeare. It’s a piece of statistical theory that is mostly meaningless. It’s more often cited by creative folk to point to the apparent idiocies or uselessness of statistical theory than it is used by statisticians of any merit.

But Susan Crane was another matter. Here was spam that somehow had plummed the recesses of my most hidden pre-internet memories and dredged something to get me. We’re all used to the paranoias of spy-ware that seem to do illicit data-mining of your contacts list and send you emails from people with disconcertingly familiar names – just not quite right.

But this Susan Crane business was different. No matter that the content of the spam was some penis enlarging stock about to IPO in the bio-pharm-chip sector or some such bollocks. No matter that I erased it as soon as I saw it. Because for that one split second that I saw it in my inbox – I had the briefest of fantasies that she had found me after all these years to return my previously unrequited love. And what yearning and what deeply felt pre-eroticism was that fantasy burnished with. Glowing in the momentary sanctuary of my mobile phone’s inbox – the little email appeared. That randomly chosen name signifying to me more than any carefully researched, psychologically profiled ad could have ever have meant. In the callously filtered world of my laptop of course, the name would never appear, the memory remaining untriggered because of the fiersome and yet still inadequate anti-spam software working overtime there where it won’t on the mobile phone.
Susan Crane wherever you are now – no doubt your name has long changed, but you will still have a place in my memory banks and have randomly returned to my life…. Unless of course, the spam machines are just getting deeper and deeper into our data and our minds… surely not so far so soon … surely we still have a few generations sanctity before our memories are silently probed in order to advertise penis enlargements to us – even more effectively.

So sorry Susan that your memory should be contaminated by such stuff, but then again, who knows perhaps that was what you always wished for me! Maybe that was why you never returned my glances… oh…

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4 responses to “Susan Crane

  1. Jeremy – I do believe this is unhealthy on a number of levels. In fact, I would probably suggest a new hobby, getting out more, or a regime of cold showers after vigorous exercise.
    In my case it was Susan Parker. Odd that they should share a first name.

  2. Thanks for those remedial thoughts Peter.

    I still feel that we have some obligation to try to rescue some brief moments of lyricism and abstraction from the banality of our digital environment…

    I just don’t know how much bathos to apply to it all… !

  3. Pingback: michelle ferrari

  4. Hi.
    Good design, who make it?

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