nazvat sahar gorkim, indeed.

I got a rather... bizarre e-mail the other day. Oh, heck, who am I kidding - it's an autogenerated example of spam. Most of the autogenerated messages you get in your inbox are designed to have enough random words that they'll get around whatever spam filter you have set up. I've gotten more than my fair share of them over the years, but the one I got last week, ostensibly from some dude named Ron Wolf, really takes the cake. I quote it now, verbatim, in all its psuedo-Eastern European glory:


Zdes, vozle Karbesovyh gor, les pochemu-to ros osobenno gusto I moshchno, a durnaia slava etogo mesta, sviazannaia s obitavshimi tut gveltami, byla Izvestna daleko za predelami Haaskana da i sosednih makorov takzhe. Ia ved Uzhe skoro na tretiu sotniu perejdu, vozrast, Mrak ego zabodaj. Proshloe s fermoj bylo tolko u Prestupnika Mastona Niksa, a ne u Eliota Niksarda. Uh, chut ne vyrvalos. Vot kak. Ia stremitelno naklonilsia, sobiraias palcami vyrvat emu Gorlo. Nichego ne zabyla? Zakonchiv vozitsia so shlemnikom, Onni snova opustila ruki na poias i s Dostoinstvom vypriamilas. Budem spravedlivy i snishoditelny on dejstvoval ne po svoej Vole. Pohozhe, eto iskusstvo prisushche Iskliuchitelno etoj rase chuzhih, esli nerazdelimo s ee imenem. Kengsh, kopiruia maneru povedeniia bossa, takzhe Nespeshno vernulsia v svoj trasser, zastaviv ego tiazhko vzdrognut ot vesa Svoej tushi, broshennoj na zadnee sidene.


Rudnikah? Prygun?! Posadit pryguna na cep dlia menia bylo to zhe Samoe, chto nazvat sahar gorkim. Dlia menia eto bylo ochevidno. Tot samyj starik, chto pytalsia vchera vyudit u menia dengi pered Ohotoj. Voda? Chto eto za shtuka takaia? Nichego krepche vody zdes pit ne polozheno, sam znaesh, s nepoddelnym Ogorcheniem vzdohnul Voland, i zdes ia ego oh kak ponimal. Gilsveri sobralsia uzhe otvernutsia i nakonec zaniatsia proschetom neobhodimyh Zaklinanij dlia predstoiashchego boia, kak ego vzgliad zacepilsia za kakuiu-to detal, Ostavivshuiu v ego mozgu zanozu. I dazhe po-prezhnemu sebia takovym schitaiu. Oruzhie Prigotovit dlia strelby, no ni v koem sluchae ne streliat bez razresheniia Perimetr otrazit liubye luchi obratno, kak svoi, tak i gostej. Kak mnogo ty pomnish o Sebe? Ia nichego ne zabyl, Celitel. No ved on byl Prav. V vozduhe stoial prianyj zapah oseni.


I think ol' Ron really hits his stride when he soulfully asks the eternal question: Rudnikah? Prygun?! And responds with the age-old wisdom of his people: Posadit pryguna na cep dlia menia bylo to zhe Samoe, chto nazvat sahar gorkim.

"...nazvat sahar gorkim." Something we can all take to heart.