Mystery Science Theater 3001
Episode 3002: "Mr. E-mail"
MSTed by Jack Acid


In the not-too-distant future,
Somewhere up overhead:
Mike Nelson beats out all the odds,
Because he's not yet dead...
Pursued by a woman, whose name is Pearl,
A twisted, sadistic, sort of girl,
She's mad Mike's mind isn't whacked,
So she decided to try a different kind of tact!

Pearl: I'LL... GET... *YOU*!!!

"I'll send him lousy web posts,
The worst he's ever seen!
He'll have to sit and read them all,
And keep his comments clean!"

Now keep in mind, Mike has to read,
Whatever post that Pearl sends;
He'll try to keep his sanity,
With the help of his robot friends!

>>Robot Roll Call <<

Cambot! (Get out of the shot!)
Gypsy! (My, my, my!)
Tom Servo (I'm huge! Really huge!)
Crooow! (Nothing but the Crow!)

If you're wondering why Mike has to read,
And other useless facts,
Just repeat to yourself it's just a post,
You should really just relax! For...

Mystery Science Theater Three Thousand!

Tom:   ... and one!


   The article MSTed within is copyrighted to
some spammer. Any Insult is intended and should be
inferred. I mean, come on! THIS IS A SPAMMER! And
even worse, this spam is advertising on how to make
money with SPAM!
   Any random mention of characters, songs, movies
and the like belong to their respective owners. All
rights reserved.


[1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Holocabana]


   "God, I hate this game." Mike threw his hands up
over his head.
   "Another try, o Meaty one? You might just last
longer than your *usual* ten seconds..." Crow had a bazooka
that was almost larger than he was, and it was directly
trained on Michael J. Nelson's head. They were surrounded on
all sides by open prairie, and a small rustic town could be
seen a short distance away. The air was hot, still, and dry--
or at least as dry as the recently renovated Holocabana could
make it without becoming intolerable to humans. Not that that
was the only reason Mike was sweating profusely...
   "I *can't* win!  I don't know why I can't win! WHY
CAN'T I WIN!? Hey..." Mike suddenly recognized the gun Crow
was holding. "Hey, isn't that an Incinerator from Blood?
I thought we were playing a deathmatch in Outlaws. That
doesn't belong in this game!"
   "Ah contraire, Nelson," Crow chuckled. "I *told* you
this was a special Holocabana program. I was kinda bored
at the edge of the universe when you guys didn't show up,
so I spent the last three hundred years making new wads,
and, well-- it's that damn good!"
   "What is it, then?"
   "What is it? Only the ultimate in gory, kick-ass,
third person shoot-em-ups! Behold! ** Quwoom Nukem 3D in
Coldest Blood(TM)! **" Crow waved his weapon mockingly. "It
has the elements of every Doom clone in existence, all the
enemies, items, weapons, every conceivable setting for any
conceivable level..." Crow gave Mike a quizzical look. "Surely,
the proximity detectors I set in the saloon tipped you off,
didn't they? I heard them go off a little while ago."
   "Oh, that was Tom. He must have tripped them by accident,
and boy did he ever suffer. In fact, he was blown right into
second floor where I was hiding. He had the most interesting
document on him, too..."
   He knows too much, thought Crow, as he let loose a barrage
of death that was directly centered at Mike's midsection.
   It passed through thin air.
   The image of Mike wavered in an incoherent patter for a
moment before coalescing back into form. "It was the 'README.txt'
file for your little game..." The pseudo-Mike faded into nothingness.
   Crow's jaw was hung open. "Holo... Holo-Mike?
   "Hello yourself, sucker!" Crow twirled around wildly, and saw
the real Mike wearing a jetpack and floating above him. A weird
sort of glow emanated from Mike's body.
   Crow gulped. "M-mike? What h-happened to you?"
   "A few little 'enhancements'. You aren't going to beat me
*this* time, Crow! Witness the awesome wrath of Michael J.
Nelson!"
   "Enhancements?"
   "Try BFG's akimbo on quad damage."
   "Mike, NO!!! That's way too powerful, you'll overload the
system!" Crow started to panic. "I *give* up! JUST DON'T FIRE!!"
   "I AM IRON MAN!!!" Mike pulled both triggers of the BFGs.
   "NOOOOOOOO!!!!!"

[Winged Microbus of Doom]

   "Guess it's time to send those idiots today's web post..."
Pearl was deeply absorbed a crossword puzzle, but the sadistic
pleasure she got from torturing Mike came before the minor
diversions, after all.
   The Observer was behind the wheel, obviously bored. "I can't
see how you can waste your time with those, Pearl..."
   "Look, Brain Guy, just because you can solve these things
in an instant doesn't mean *I* can't derive pleasure from them--
WHAT THE *HELL*!?" Pearl and the Observer were blinded from a
sudden flash of green light.
   Before the Winged Microbus of Doom, a ring of green plasma
energy was emanating from Satellite of Love, spreading out to
envelop the Bus. The light itself was harmless, being only a
simulation created by the holocabana, but it still gave Pearl
and the Observer a fright. They sat rigid in their seat for a moment,
until Pearl lashed out her hand and the call button to the SoL.
"Mike! What the hell are you doing up there?! Testing miniature
warheads?"

[SOL Bridge]

   Gypsy was the only one on the bridge, of course. The flash
of ground zero light had affected her too, for her usually purple-
colored complexion was now a deep shade of red. "Um, no, Mrs.
Forrester, Mike's not here right now... He's, uh, down in his
room..." Gypsy thought fast. "We had a, uh, um, bit of a power
surge in the engine room, and... uh, do you like my new tan?"

[Winged Microbus of Doom]

   "Oh yes, dear, it's a very nice color for you," Pearl said
kindly, "But I really think a touch more blush on your cheeks
would do wonders..." Pearl shook her head violently. "Will you just
get that big goof up here! It's time for today's experiment!"

[SOL Bridge]

   "Oh yes, ma'am! One moment please!" Gypsy sent a call down
to the Holocabana. "Mike? Pearl's calling! Et-gay out-ay of-ay
e-thay olocaba-hay ow-nay!"

[Holocabana]

   It was black as death within the balsa wood walls of the
Holocabana. On closer look, however, the blackness was merely a
coating of soot, which covered all but the source of the blast,
which of course was Mike Nelson.
   "Pearl? Crap! She isn't supposed to know about the
Holocabana!" Mike sprinted out of the room.

[SOL Bridge]

   Mike complied almost immediately, the smoke still rolling
off his jump suit. "Oh, hi, Mrs. Forrester! How's things, Bobo?
Feeling any better?
   *"Just peachy, Mike! The swelling has gone down, and I
can finally sit without the ointment!"*
   "Oog" Little more than Mike wanted to know, actually.
"Well, Pearled Finish, what's good word? Another Ron Patton
fiasco?"
   *"You wish, Nella-pella! Today's movie features a Mach 2
short, 'Calculus Carnage' by Nav, followed by everyone's favorite
kind of web litter, spam! But not *any* kind of spam! Ready Nel..
hey... where are your little automations?"*
   "Huh? You mean... uh-oh..."

[Holocabana]

   On the wall of the Holocabana, a black smudge shuddered
enough to uncover two golden eyes. It glared over at the opposite
wall, where a smaller smudge was slowly sliding down into a painful
heap.
   "You just *had* to carry that file around with you, *didn't*
'cha?"
   "Ack..." replied the scorched heap, "you know what a lousy
memory I have! Uh-oh... WE GOT FANFIC SIGN!"


[6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Theater]


(Crow carries Tom piggyback into the theater)
Mike:  (smugly) Why, look, it's the frag-master himself!
Crow:  Bite me, Nelson.
(Tom and Crow take their usual seats)


>Will the merceless slaughter of Usagi ever end???


Crow:  Hell, you mean DiC could possibly screw it up *more?*
Mike:  You forget syndication, of course...
Crow:  Oh, yeah...


>Yes, but not for a while.


Tom:   But... you can only kill something *once*...
Crow:  Nit-pick, nit-pick...


>Calculus Carnage


Mike:  Let's get ready to RUUUMMMBBBLLLEEE!
Tom:   Whoo-hoo!


>It was a typical day at school for Usagi.


Tom:   Ah, one of her usual mornings...


>only 3 periods of the day had passed, and allready she had a month's
>worth of detentions.


Crow:  It took everybody three periods to notice that she was wearing
her underwear *over* her skirt...


>But she had yet to go to math class. And unlike normal, this wouldnt
>be a class nearly as typical as the day.


Mike:  What's this, blank verse?
Tom:   Shakespeare, he ain't...


>Usagi walked into Math class and took her seat. The teacher then
>explained to the class that they would be learning calculus.


Tom:   Hence, the first half of the title!


>New textbooks were handed out, and the teacher started reading the
>introduction.


Crow:  (as teacher, reading) "As he stripped her limp body of all
clothing, she regained conciseness, and smiled weakly down at
the figure probing between her legs..." Oops! Wrong book!


>"Welcome to the wonderful world of calculus mathematics! On the
>following pages,


Mike:  ... there are words. Please read them.
Tom:   (snickers)


>you will learn this amazing form of mathematics, and thus be prepared
>for the many instances where this incredible skill can be applied in
>the adult world.


Tom:   Like?


>And now, on with the learning process!"


All:   (hum theme song to 'Jeopardy!')


>Allready, Usagi was having a migrane headache as the teacher
>continiued."CHAPTER 1: The Basics Of Calculus"


Mike:  ... and it's written in binary! BWHAHAHAHAHA!!!
Crow:  Dear God, no! Oh, wait, I guess I *can* read binary...
Tom:   Yeah, one o' the perks of being a robot.


>As the teacher continiued to read, Usagi was in immense pain.


Tom:   ... and as we continue to read, we get *immense* pain.
Mike:  Coincidence? I doubt it.


>It was as if her head was about to explode!


Crow:  Ironic foreshadowing, gentlemen!


>How could the teacher dosomething this cruel to her? She knew
>perfectly well that Usagi was the japaneese equivalent of a straight-F
>student!


Mike:  But the teacher's not really 'in' the room, ifyaknowwhatImean!
Tom:   (as the teacher, reading) "... she sucked her breath in deeply
as his tongue continued to burrow deeper and deeper into her moist
vaults of-" HEY!! You all get your heads back into those books and
LEARN, dammit!!


>Amidst the continuous reading of the chapter on calculus, Usagi
>started to hallucinate


Crow:  (as Cheech) Hey man! That chica's got some wicked stuff!
Tom:   (as Chong) Yeah, man, give us a little of that!


>due to the phenominal pain within her skull.


Mike:  She apparently doesn't have 'Intel Inside'.


>She hallucinated about the many times in combat that Tuxedo mask had
>come to save her butt


Tom:   ... which was about *all* the fights...


>(which was about ALL the fights).


Tom:   Yeah.


>She hallucinated about the bickerings she had with her friends,


Crow:  (as Rei) Quit thinking about me, dimwit!


>her regrets about giving birth to that hideously cute daughter of hers
>(although that was yet to come).


Tom:   (as Usagi) Not that *I* felt, Mr. Hentai!
Mike:  Tom...


>Then, in an instant, her entire life flashed before her eyes before
>her head,


Mike:  She has eyes before her head. Right.


>under extreme pressure from the knowledge being crammed into her
>microscopic mind, exploded.


Crow:  (imitates a raspberry sound) Thhhhpt!
Mike:  (imitates a muted trumpet) Wah, wah, waaah!
Tom:  (winces) Boy, I know how *that* feels like...


>The entire classroom was covered in a thin film of gore. THE END


Tom:   Hmmm...
Crow:  (coughs)
Tom:   Well!
Mike:  That was pretty pointless...
Crow:  So, now that Chibi-Usa can never be born, why did Usagi
hallucinate about giving birth to her?
Tom:   For that matter, why the hell would her head explode like that?
Wouldn't it just pop a little and blood come seeping out her ears?
Crow:  (sighing) Such a waste of a pretty little head...


>Path:


Mike:  Oh wait, I forgot about the spam. *Now* we'll see pointless...


>szdc!super.zippo.com!zdc!www.nntp.primenet.com!nntp.primenet.com!mr.ne
>t!nntp.earthlink.net!usenet
>From:    MREMAIL@MREMAIL.COM
>Newsgroups:    alt.conspiracy.yak.worshippers


Crow:  *Yak* worshippers?
Tom:   Don't ask...


>Subject:    SEND 15,000 EMAILS PER HOUR!!
>Date:    Sun, 10 Nov 1996 20:23:07
>Organization:    Earthlink Network, Inc.
>Lines:    155


Tom:   (groans) There are fanfics shorter than this...


>Message-ID:    <56697l$qth@bolivia.earthlink.net>
>NNTP-Posting-Host:    cust27.max22.los-angeles.ca.ms.uu.net
>Status:    N


>EMAIL WORKS $499.00
>WE KNOW YOUR BUSINESS


Mike:  Ahhh! It's Big Brother!


>Our software and provider service enables any business to launch a
>professional and effective mass marketing of a product or service
>via bulk email.


Tom:   Oh my God! It's spam selling how to make more spam!
Crow:  Nooo! It must be stopped at all costs!


>Our mission


Mike:  ... please don't accept it...


>is to give the average, small or new business, and even the big guys,
>the tools required to utilize the Internet for generating sales
>figures not achievable through conventional advertising.


Crow:  But with any luck, you won't find out it's not achievable with
spam, either...


>EMAIL WORKS V3.1A


Mike:  Sure, e-mail works! It works even *better* without the spam!


>EMail Works v3.1 is by far the most advanced bulk e-mail software
>available on the market. It's power and depth are only matched by it's
>ease of use.


Tom:   And the power of bleach!


>Features


Mike:  ... stuff.
Tom:   ... and things.
Crow:  ... and a new minty flavor!


>Sends at 13000 to 15000 per hour with 14.4 modem Posts to thousands of
>news groups automatically Collects at 75000 per 24 hours Works while
>your computer is: surfing, getting email or word processing


Crow:  ... downloading Internet porn...
Mike:  Crow...


>Easy to use remove name feature.


Tom:   Can it take *my* name off the list?
Crow:  Me too! Me too!


>Parsing table 45000 to 100,000 per hour
>Stand alone - NO Pegasus-Eudora-Freedom- or other email program needed
>Sends & Gathers & Parsing at the same time!


Mike:  (sarcastically) Great... I am *so* proud for you...


>Marketing Tables
>Time & date stamp on all mailings


Tom:   Not that anyone will care...


>Filtering system
>Auto remove screen disables mail from being sent to people who dont
>want it!


Mike:  (laughs) That seems just a tad redundant, who wants spam?


>When SoftCell becomes your postmaster you will never lose your e mail
>addresses, dial-up connection or web site domain ever again.


Crow:  ... until the villagers storm your castle.


>BULLET PROOF WEB SITE DOMAIN 10mg
>never have your site ripped down again


Crow:  I repeat, until the villagers storm the castle...
Mike:  (snickers)


>10 MEG WEB DOMAIN
>We move your site and transfer or register your domain with internic


Tom:   Yeah, but what about the Internet?
Mike:  (snickers) Spellchecker optional.


>REMOVE NAMES
>All mail is parsed against several large remove name lists
>5 Meg FLAME PROOF E MAIL BOX
>We will not except multiple message or unmarked attachments from any
>user.


Crow:  Oh, great. The spammers can't be spammed.
Tom:   Yippee-yahoo...


>FIRE WALL
>Over 70,000 e mail addresses that can not access our server


Tom:   How much for one of the ones that can? I have a bunch of
viruses...


>AUTO RESPONDER


Crow:  The car speaks?! Redrum!!


>Easy and fast response


Mike:  In fact, the *only* response you'll get from now on...
Crow:  Because everyone will shun you when they find out you're a
spammer!


>Additional provider services:
>Online secure credit card transactions $35.00 per mo.
>Shopping Basket $20.00 per mo.


Tom:   Kinda pricey, I usually just swipe one from the supermarket!
Mike:  Tom?


>Additional Auto responders $15.00 per mo
>Additional E Mail Accounts $30.00 per mo
>Additional Web space $10.00 per Mg per mo.


Crow:  I see, but I don't care...


>Access our remove name and parse out the undeliverable and remove
>names
>$49.00 per month!
>Bulk E-Mailing Services
>E Mail addresses for sale


All:   (singing) Who will buy, my pretty addresses...


>Our addresses are by far the best available on the internet because
>they are all 75+% deliverable and we never sell the same list to the
>same type of business twice.


Tom:   Yeah, sort of a shame if a spammer got his hands on that list.


>We currently have over 7 million active e-mail addresses.


Mike:  Well, I guess you win, I only have one...
Tom:   (to Crow) What's *his* problem?
Crow:  E-mail envy...
Tom:   Oh...


>100,000 $199 300,000 $399
>500,000 $599
>1 Million $1000
>
>Bulk E-Mailings DONT HAVE THE TIME? WE DO!


Crow:  Why does that not surprise me?


>1.5 Million


Mike:  ... flame mails a day...


>1 Time $1200
>2 Time $900
>3 Time $800
>4 Time $700
>5 Time $500


Crow:  (as Count Von Count) 5 time! Ah, ha, ha!


>Web Design
>Free web design and hosting can be arranged for companies & can show
>net earnings in excess of 1 Million dollars.


Tom:   But the 3 million daily death threats kinda even things up...


>In return for


Mike:  (deep voice) ... your soul.


>a percentage of sales SoftCell Marketing will develop, host and
>maintain you web site.


Crow:  ... because we know you spammers haven't the brains to pick your
nose.


>Call now for more information: 714-825-4815 F R E E  D E M O  D O W N
>L O A D ! ! !


All:   WHOA!!!
Tom:   There's no need to lash out!


>CALL NOW-MR. EMAIL (DAVID)


Crow:  (laughs)
Mike:  Hi, Dave!


>SoftCell Marketing Inc. CONTRACT
>IMPORTANT! FAX THIS LEGAL DOCUMENT TO: 714-574-9773
>
>[Standard issue form]


All:   EXTREME... SPAMMING... ACTION!!!
Mike:  ... action Dave and action Dave's spam sold seperately.


>The business or company herein is referred to as the client, and
>SoftCell Marketing Inc. is referred to as "Company",


Crow:  Brought to you by "Dave".


>enter into this agreement to be effective as of date accepted by the
>"Company" subject to the following conditions: As a client I
>understand that the Company makes no Guarantee of success or financial
>gain.


Mike:  ... I also understand that I am being taken for all I'm worth.


>As a client I realize the "Company" is authorized to bill client


Tom:   What?! That's horrible! That's outright murder!
Mike:  He said 'bill client', not 'kill client'...
Tom:   ... still sucks on toast.


>credit card or cash client check or money order plus shipping and
>handling for "company"servivices or products.


Mike:  Spellchecker is not included with purchase.
Tom:   "Dave" sold separately.


>  As a client I realize that the company


Crow:  ... bites the big one.


>will place my order for provider service to be billed on the (first)
>of the month, each and every month until a 30 day written notice is
>received from client.


Tom:   No I don't! I haven't agreed to anything yet!


>  As a client I understand that once the "Company" has rendered
>services,


Mike:  ... I will need to have my head examined.


>or the client has been issued an access code, unlock code, turn on
>code or credit card approval have been gained, no refunds are
>possible.


Crow:  I smell spam-scam, gentlemen!


>Please check the box(s) that apply:


Mike:  Or do us all a favor, and don't...


>BOX 1:_____  EMAILWORKS V3A $499.00
>BOX 2:_____  PROVIDER SERVICE $99.00 PER MONTH.  WITH FIRST AND LAST
>MONTH AND $75.00 SET UP FEE.
>TOTAL $273.00
>BOX 3:_____  BOTH (BOX 1 AND 2) TOTAL $772.00
>CLIENT SIGNATURE:_________________________ DATE:___________


Tom:   Bottom line?
Mike:  There are two, actually... (picks up Tom)
Tom:   D'oh! No, no... *sigh*
Crow:  The moral of the story? Don't name your kid, 'Dave'...


[1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Bridge]


   "Well, what *did* we learn to today?" Tom was very sincere.
"Did either of those two features have any sort of point, or
direction, or *anything* like a redeeming value?"
   "Actually, Tom, I learned that spammers *do* perform a
valuable service on the Internet." Mike smiled and looked directly
at Cambot. "I realized that they exist so anything compared to next
them will immediately look good."
   "Oh, that's true! Like the first short we had! It sucked,
it was pointless, it was anti-moonie, and it was totally OOC, but
it was so much better than the spam it's scary!" Tom noticed Crow
was busy jotting something down in a notebook. "What did *you*
learn, friend Crow?"
   "Huh? Oh! I learned that you *can* do musical parodies in
MSTings! Look, I wrote a song!" Crow proudly held up his notebook.
"It's a tribute to Mr. David E-mail, our new special friend! Want
to hear it?"
   "Uh... okay... Isn't it hard to listen to a song in a
*text* medium?"
   "Aw, it's just lyrics, but it's set to a tune that everybody
should know! Listen!" Crow cleared his voice synthesizer. "It goes
to the tune of the 'Flintstones' theme song! And a one, and a two,
and a:"


[Crow sings]

E-mail!
Mister E-mail!
AKA Dave, the mighty spammer king!
He's got, a *lot* of free time!
And mass mailing happens to be his thing...

Someday, we will somehow track him down!
And then we'll, beat his square head 'til it's round!

Until then, Mr. E-mail
It will be spam time,
And we'll all whine,
I'm all out of rhymes!
But it's all fine,

To Dav-id E-MAIL!!

(Spammer, damn it, DUMB!!)

[Crow stops singing]


   After a long silence, Tom finally spoke up. "That was
different..."
   "Pretty neat, huh? Thanks to my new method, MSTings are one
step closer to the real thing! All you need is a familiar tune, and
then some funny lyrics!"
   "Gee, Crow, I hate to be a killjoy, but I'm sure *someone* has
thought of it first... although you do seem to a way with song
writing, I'll give you that!" Mike turned back to Cambot. "And isn't
that the *real* moral of today's story? That creativity and humor
are the true foundations on which the Internet lies upon. Let's all
take a moment to thank the men and women who keep the web a swell
place to be!" Mike gave a snappy salute. "God bless the men and
women of MSTing!"
   "Aw, knock it off already. You already *told* us the moral, so
there's no changing it on us at this point!" Tom shook his head.
"Hit the button, Mike..."
   "What button? Wrong season, Servo..."

>>>>FWISH<<<<

Mike:  Hey!


[Roll the credits]


The Placid Jack Acid writes:

And that was number two! This post I first released way back
in 1998, where shortly after I left the world of MSTing. I have
since returned, releasing my old episodes while I start in on
new ones! I have only added a riff here and there- the host
segments I have left as I wrote them three years ago (It really
shows its age in the Holocabana gaming skit- I mean, Outlaws?! ^_-)

As always, I respect any fanfic author I MST, so no hard feelings,
Nav! Dave, on the other hand, is on his own. BAD DAVE! NO BISCUIT!

Jack Acid
(Who Also Failed Calculus)

Special Thanks to:

Megane 6.7, for getting me on this MSTing kick. He also helped me
see a couple of riffs I missed the first time around. See what he's
all about at <http://www.nabiki.com/mst >

Zoogz, my webmaster and all-around swell guy, who also has his
MSTings at the above address. But if you found THIS MSTing already,
you've already found his and Megane's, right? ^_-

Lisu, Bunny, and Chels, who are a source of some of my inspiration.
Shine on, Loony ones.

The good folk at #EcchiFanGirls, found at www.sorcery.net, who are the
source of the REST of my inspiration. Even if they *are* perverts!

Haloflux, who is the best kitty-girl-shade-thief-mage-vampire I know!

Website #9's guidelines to Usenet MSTings. It came in handy...

Also to anyone who enjoyed my last MSTing, 'Project Monarch'. Here's to
many more... MSTings, that is, not Ron Patton...

Best Brains, for screwing up my childhood (but in a good way) from age
eleven up to today, at twenty one. May the way of the Hero lead to the
Triforce.


After all, Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its related characters
and situations are trademarks of and (c) 1994 by Best Brains, Inc.
All rights reserved, I wouldn't have it any other way!
Use here is for entertainment purposes only and no violation of
copyright is intended or should be inferred, so help me God.

Keep Circulating the Posts...



>CALL NOW-MR. EMAIL (DAVID)


Crow:  (laughs)
Mike:  Hi, Dave!


Jack Acid Area
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