Probably nine-tenths of all the email I get is spam. Between the offers to help me get an erection and give me a cheap home-owner’s loan, most of it’s crap. That’s why when I received a fairly funny joke in a piece of spam, I was surprised. Flabbergasted, even. And it wasn’t an entirely lame joke, either. It’s about a lone black man amongst a crowd of white people and boasts a smile-worthy climax. Ah, racial humor . . . always funny. Except some of the jokes and “stories” Nate occasionally forwards me from TShirtHell.com. Those, like the most recent one he sent me entitled “The Immaculate Abortion,” can almost be so disturbing as to overwhelm even my admittedly rank sensibilites.

Anyway, here’s the joke-within-spam:

A rich white man threw a party and invited all of his buddies and neighbors, including Leroy, the only black guy in the neighborhood. He held the party around the pool in the backyard of his mansion. Everyone was having a good time drinking, dancing, eating BBQ and flirting with the women. At the height of the party, the host said, “I came home from a business trip and I found a 10 foot alligator got in my pool and I can’t find anybody who will come and take him away. I’d give a million dollars to anyone who would do the job!” The words were barely out of his mouth when there was a loud splash and everyone turned around and saw Leroy in the pool! Leroy was fighting the gator and kicking its ass! He was jabbing it in the eyes with his thumbs, throwing punches, head butts and chokeholds, biting the gator on the tail and flipping it through the air like some kind of Kung-Fu master. The water was churning and splashing in the struggle. Finally Leroy strangled the gator and let it float to the surface. He slowly climbed out of the pool. Everybody was staring in disbelief. Finally the host says, “Leroy, I reckon I owe you a million dollars.” “I don’t want it,” said Leroy, panting. The rich man said, “Leroy, I have to give you something! You won the bet.” Leroy said, “I would be satisfied if you gave me the name of whichever one of these white motherf**kers it was that pushed me in the pool.”

So let’s see. That makes, like, one useful piece of spam I’ve ever received, versus something on the magnitude of one-million craptastic pieces that flood my inbox like so many New Orleans. With odds like that, I think I should never, ever go to Vegas.

JAB