The Rhizome mailing list’s utter failure to filter spam is the gift that keeps on giving. There’s so much to love, so many accidentally inspiring turns of phrase, in this latest unsolicited missive to nobody in particular. The subject line was exactly as above: “Your hideous wrinkles”. For a moment I’d like you to try imagining exactly how facially ravaged a person would have to be (or how pathologically in hate with their own body’s natural processes and projecting those issues onto somebody else an observer would have to be) in order for “wrinkles and fine lines” to enter the realm of “hideous”.
As usual, I have thwarted the sender-bot’s masters by replacing every instance of the original product name with the word SPAM. Errors and typos have not been corrected.
“If your target is to attain sensuous glowing and supple skin then use only SPAM. This solution is an ultimate method to reduce your hideous wrinkles and fine lines. You can say it is a revolutionary product in the cosmetic industries.
‘Aging’, something that won’t spare you even if you are ready to do so. Why feel like, there is no way out with this problem? SPAM that would act as your personal guard to fight out your aging problem. Don’t worry this time aging has to spare you.
When you have age spots and wrinkles triggering you all day long, facial care from SPAM is the lone answer. This new age defying supplement will reduce all the aging signs with enhanced flow of skin protein aiding you with a young and radiant skin.
Bygone are the wrinkled days, courtesy SPAM, a canned precooked meat product that can always make you celebrate your eighteenth birthday even in your aging phase is now at your doorstep and you just need to befriend this product early as possible.”
The notion of being “ready” to stop ageing- of deciding that there is a way out of ageing- is dystopian and weird. So is “celebrate your eighteenth birthday even in your aging phase.” Logan’s Run. The part about “age spots and wrinkles triggering you all day long” evokes the image of some crazed, raddled, geriatric Narcissus constantly scrutinising themselves in ever-proliferating shards of broken mirror that they rage against and smash anew every time they catch sight of their own face.
The whole thing reminds me of Ayesha in H. Rider Haggard’s She, burning away her two thousand years in the magic fire of Life, melodramatically announcing “Bygone are the wrinkled days! Ageing has to spare me!”