I got an e-mail this morning from the Yale tech people alerting me that my inbox was getting too full. Because I've been forwarding my school e-mail to my gmail account for the past few years, my school inbox has thousands of unread e-mails in it, apparently.
Anyway, I was reading this e-mail in my 9:30 a.m. droopy-eyed state, giving it its warranted time and attention when I saw what the subject line was: [Fwd: [Bug 4546] New: user about to hit mailbomb alert.
I love this: their code name for a full inbox is a mailbomb alert.
I see these nine scrubby total tech nerds wearing, I don't know, Cloverfield t-shirts and stained hoodies. They're in this windowless room with dim lighting in some basement on campus with a solitary Hayden Panettiere poster hanging on the wall. They're sitting at their computers playing Second Life and drinking Mountain Dew. All of a sudden, one of their walkie-talkies (they've got walkie-talkies strapped to their belts, obvi) starts beeping and they all leap in the air.
"We've got a mailbomb alert, team," Carl says. "Someone's Inbox is dangerously full." And just like that the scrubby Yale techies turn into a crime-fighting team. They slip on their skin-tight black costumes, rappel down buildings and leap across roofs, all with a fast Franz Ferdinand song playing in the background. "We. . . must. . . save. . . him. . . from. . . mailbomb," Kenneth gasps as he furiously types complicated codes into a massive computer.
Minutes later, when they get notified that I deleted lots of e-mails from my ballooning inbox, they receive another signal on their walkie-talkies. "Phew," Carl sighs. "Good work, team. The mailbomb has been averted. . . his inbox will live to see another day."