Moneydick

If you’re a regular to Moneydick.com (and my stats say many of you are) you know about my funny spam posts. These are spam emails that arrive in my mailbox with nothing but nonsense filling their ridiculous bodies. Here’s my latest: the fifth posted on this website.
This one has a particular poetic significance that caused it to be posted here:
(to see all of the hilarious robotronic spam messages I’ve received click here.

And this other fellow here, this SaintLuke the Evangelist. You can imagine, then, whether certain thingscan make any impression on me!
Shebecomes a Princess, you say, and Princess of Laurentano: let us say,Queen of Colimbetra!
Any newswas fresh to him, a distant echo of the life of the great worldbeyond.
Yoursalvation rests with yourselves, is what I say.
Shebecomes a Princess, you say, and Princess of Laurentano: let us say,Queen of Colimbetra! But do you know how they live down at PortoEmpedocle? Nocio Pigna went on, stretching outhis long arm with a menacing gesture. I seek my own convenience and theirs at the sametime: is that right?
There are three hundredthousand of us, my boy, at this very moment. Any room will do for me, replied Laurentano. What do you want here, prowling about at this hour in the morning? After a while he shrugged his shoulders and began to look about him. I seek my own convenience and theirs at the sametime: is that right?
And theresplenty of stuff behind it, you know! And this other fellow here, this SaintLuke the Evangelist. Let him come toValsania, now, if you dare!
Well have to find a tutor, a nurse foryou.
Shebecomes a Princess, you say, and Princess of Laurentano: let us say,Queen of Colimbetra! My dear sir,sighed Preola, shutting his eyes. What do you want here, prowling about at this hour in the morning? The patriots and the priests deceived them and aredeceiving them now!
She is going to shut herself up at Colimbetra!
PoorAdelaide, it is too bad really, after waiting fifty years!
Marco Preola was tired: his head drooped, as he murmured:Porto Empedocle. Yoursalvation rests with yourselves, is what I say.
Sciaralla saluted him humbly, then, pointing to the dogs, asked:Can I dismount? Putyour hand on your heart, now, and tell the truth: you dont work atall!