Since the start of 2009 I have received dozens of freaky emails. In the middle of the hundred or so daily spam messages I summarily delete without barely a glance, I have noticed something particularly creepy. Several recently deceased celebrities have been emailing me.

No lie.

The King of Pop has been pitching ringtones to me for days. several times a day, actually. O’Neal Woman and Ryan’s Girl both suggest I should lose some weight fast – and they have just the pills to help. Fairah Faucet (sic) doesn’t think I should waste time going back to school – I should just my my official-looking diploma online. Isn’t technology totally fab? Socks the Cat has suggested that oral sex is the way to go (just ask my former owner Bill) and John Updike, of all disembodied spirits, has been downright begging that I stop disappointing my wife in the bedroom. 

Thankfully Patrick McGoohan and Ricardo Montalban have been keeping their distance. Clearly they both realize that whether or not the plane is on its way, I am not a number.

Naysayers are surely pinning this unique paranormal phenomenon on the tactless, eel-like scum that engages in the professional spam-business, but isn’t it more fun and entertaining to realize the truth…I am being contacted by celebrities from beyond.

But if I get an American Express solicitation from the late, great Karl Malden, I know what to do: Discover boxes and get the hell out of dodge because that would be too wrong to be anything but the genuine article.

Peace out Father Barry.