Opinion: Got something on my chest

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Some spam messages I receive on a regular basis are for products I can’t disclose in this newspaper. However, I started receiving unusual emails about unmentionables, and I am going to mention those: Wonderbra, Super-Lift Bra and my favorite, Bra Genie. 

Why was a guy like me getting stuff like this? I tried red-flagging keywords so this type of advertising would go directly to my spam folder, but all it did was block some really good coupons for Kentucky Fried Chicken.

While discussing this issue with friends, I found it impossible to avoid immature plays on words, like: “I want to keep abreast of this problem,” or, “Who are the boobs sending me this junk?” There is nothing more alluring than easy double entendres.

I called my techie friend and told him I had this problem that was staring me smack in the face. He responded, “Dick, it sounds like you need some support.”

“Oh no, Kevin, now you’re doing it!” He couldn’t help me, so it was time to figure this out myself. Not long ago, I wrote an essay about how I was trying to get fit. I mentioned I was in relatively good shape, except that my chest needed a little development.

The column appeared in this newspaper, on Facebook, and then all the search engines. Apparently, my observation that I was unhappy with my chest found its way to brassiere makers who added me to their database of people displeased with their upper half.

As I was writing this column, I printed all the spam ads so I could reference them easily. When Mary Ellen was poking around my office, she saw the pages on my desk and assumed that either I thought she needed a Bra Genie, or I wanted to order one for myself. Neither alternative was going to lead to a conversation I wanted to have.

To make matters worse, some computer software programs couldn’t distinguish between “dissatisfied with your upper half” and “unhappy with your better half,” which meant I got a slew of ads for do-it-yourself divorce kits.

When I explained to Mary Ellen why I was getting spammed, I admitted I had looked at several of the bra ads. I also vowed to stop making childish puns. It was good to get all that off my chest.

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