Self-Soothing Through the Apocalypse Via My Spam Account
by A.J. Daulerio
![[Angry Face emoji] You zebra what do you want from me [Angry Face emoji, five Middle Finger emoji]](https://storage.ghost.io/c/11/a3/11a34ed2-0d03-4467-9051-6142cc358694/content/images/size/w960/2025/02/ZEBRA-16x9-IMG_1598.jpg)
This past Thanksgiving, I spelunked through the spam messages on my personal Gmail account in search of a one-time passcode sent from ESPN, which I hadn't received, so as requested I “checked my spam folder.” Have you ever checked the spam mail on a dormant account? It's like a dented time capsule. Mine is overflowing with 20-percent-off coupons from restaurants I made a reservation at a decade ago, my old Brooklyn dentist, my old Manhattan accountant, my old Ambler, Pa. Ford dealership—all of them are still actively soliciting my business or, on that day, wishing me, a valued customer, a Happy Thanksgiving.
Between those messages was a strange subject line: “I Am Your Neighbor, Shut Up” and two little orange steaming mad emojis. And this was the message:
Keep us breathing fire!
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