Hoera! Spam doet tegenwoordig niet alleen stomme copy-paste op bestaande tekst om filters te verschalken, maar doet nu ook echte automatische tekstgeneratie!

A blotched polar bear takes a coffee break, and a prime minister living with a spider brainwashes a shabby salad dressing. When you see some dust bunny defined by the photon, it means that a nation daydreams. Some cargo bay over the tape recorder knows the squid near a roller coaster. Now and then, a hockey player related to some cab driver buries a lover around a movie theater.

An orbiting prime minister underhandedly shares a shower with an often federal ski lodge. Most people believe that a satellite falls in love with a loyal tape recorder, but they need to remember how ostensibly a load bearing burglar wakes up. The surly pickup truck steals pencils from a line dancer for the tornado. When the pathetic fairy rejoices, some earring gets stinking drunk. A spider of a nation conquers the familiar microscope. An incinerated stovepipe ruminates, because a line dancer pees on a fighter pilot defined by an apartment building.

A ball bearing feels nagging remorse, and a radioactive buzzard goes to sleep; however, a feline squid learns a hard lesson from a sheriff. Now and then, the stovepipe related to another demon knows a somewhat fashionable cab driver.

Vroeger, toen alles nóg veel beter was het nu al is, bracht ik menig uur door met het schrijven van alsmaar realistischere tekstschrijvers. Met allemaal types zin, en een eigen vocabularium, en eindeloos plezier gegarandeerd—maak zelf porno! schrijf zelf een ruzie! maak uw eigen scheldtirades!

Eén programma dat het fantastisch goed deed, was Babble [157 KB zipfile], een ondertussen 15 jaar oud DOS-ding dat niet alleen op basis van bestaande tekt remixes kon doen, maar ook tot vier teksten met elkaar kon mengen. 

Deze tekst gemixt met Bob Dylan’s Blind willie McTell geeft bijvoorbeeld:

There’s a central part in the river with partner organisations of slavery ships.  There’s a chain gang on the doorpost saying, “This land sets up institutional and tailor-made seminars, all the way from the College and building on a visiting faculty of the St. James Hotel.” 

God is in the training programmes. I can hear the hoot owl singing as they take care of the College network of excellence. In return, them charcoal gypsy maidens in Brussels are on the highway. These events can range from New Orleans to Jerusalem. 

Backed up by the Academic Departments of over 564 experts, nobody can sing the basis of the barren trees like European Documentation Centre.

And I know no one of the computer room, and I can strut their feathers well, I heard the ghosts of these activities are
custom-made for partners working with some fine young handsome man.  He’s dressed up like a woman by the Academic Departments of slavery ships.  I can hear the Development Office a-moaning. God is in Political Sciences, organises conferences & workshops.

Yeah, nobody can be tailor-made on campuses in heaven and we are all participants in his hand. 

Voeg daar een beetje Shakespeare aan toe en je krijgt:

In implementing its programmes and projects, Juliet is in heaven, if her eyes in his. 

Well, workshops by any other name.  Two of the white upturned wondering eyes were taking down the social agenda of slavery ships.  But power and greed and kill the east, lawyers kill the cracking of her hand. 

See, where many martyrs fell far more fair, I heard the hoot owl singing to the European Documentation Centre. None but power and the Academic Departments of the St. James Hotel. 

The brightness of her cheek!  Wherefore art thou her eyes in Brussels? Why wouldst thou her maid, workshops and tailor-made seminars targeted at scars that I can hear the cracking of Blind Willie McTell?

Great stuff. Memory lane.