How Long,
Almighty God of Spam,
must I Facetime Thee
for guidance
but You
do Not Accept my Request?

we are in Utter Peril -
our once plentiful
Methods
alarmingly dwindle away
with Each Passing Day.

our Once profitable
Ventures,
of Ads and Adventures,
have been Forced to
suffer
immeasurably
at the Hands of
Antis and Charlatans -
these Ruthless tribes
which
Respect Not
Your
Holy Word.

this is Truly the Year
of the
Habacuck.

this Year has
Cucked
us,
and those Dear to us,
in Virtually Infinite Ways
that
I can Not
fully
Articulate Here.

to put it Bluntly,
O Lord,
our Tribe has shrank,
along with our Bank.

death
Surrounds us -
dead fish and dead Phish,
dead campaigns and dead Campaigns,
dead feelings and dead dealings,
dead Lists and dead whips,
dead Plants and dead Aunts,
dead spends to dead ends,
dead Maps from dead Apps.

However,
my Faith in Thee remains
Unwavered -
my Faith
in the Holy Arts
and
the Holy Flowcharts -
until my binary Departs
and Your Simulation Restarts.

humbly,
i Beg For Your
IntelliSense.
F1 me to Perform Thine Miracles
and
Make Spamerica Great Again.

"It Hath been
a Long Time,
I Shant
have left Thee,
without a Dope Verse
to Hack, Ye,"
Spake He.

Many things Had Happened
since a Prophet was
Revealed
yonder New Verse
to Chronicle
Worthy of the Book's (ASGPHE)
Infinite Quality Control Filter.

Falls of Eagles,
Snapping of Chats of
Snap,
Shattered APIs of Skies (PE),
Descent of Yonder SMS
(in a Conventional Sense,
mind Ye) -
Holy Methods came and went,
but NONE
so Powerful
as the One Method -
Provided by Our Blessed Lord
in the Last Twenty-Four
(ASGPHE).

Thusly,
a Battle Wages,
to Bleed the Hearts of
All
Nonbelievers in the Gospel -
for those
who Would Not Patch
thine Open
(Secure?)
Socket Layers;
a Spammer Jihad.

A Crusade of
Credentials,
A Pilgrimage of
Passwords,
A Sermon of
Session IDs,
A Mitzvah of
Memory Analysis -
He
hath Provided
Yet Again.

"Enjoy This
Present
in
Python
my Loyal Followers,"
Spake He -
"May Ye Dine
on Data
from Now
until Much Later."

praise Him Eternal.

On Yonder
Holiest
of Days,
Sabbath of Sabbaths,
the Day
of
Dialtonement,
We
in the Order of Spam
(praise Him)
call Nom Kippur.

For,
Instead of Fasting,
we Engorge Copious Amounts
of Vitamin A+ and Gas-X
to send Mass Texts.

Blessed with a Halfway Method,
Lord Elmersack
Turned the Tides
with Sex Ties.
Noting Yonder Outgoing
Links of Hyperocity
reach
Filters of Ferocity,
he
sends Text of Plain
Varieties instead -
Eye Dee Enclosed,
Adding Proposed.

Lord Espammuelle,
Archon of Authors,
Sire of Scripting,
Imam of Indexed Conversation -
did his Thing,
forging the Destinies
of They Who Reply
to a Damsel's Cry.