Find a missing plane? First, know where to start

It would be in bad taste to make jokes about the lives lost in the mysterious disappearance of that Malaysian jetliner. So take what follows as one man's musing about the irony that often results from such tragedies.

Let's start with the fact that a huge airplane loaded with sophisticated communications equipment can vanish literally into thin air. Meanwhile, we are told, the government and others are able to track virtually everything we do, thanks to our use of the Internet, mobile phones, digital TV and the like.

But, hey, it's not our government or those One World Government folks who know our every move. If I wanted to find a missing plane with hundreds of humans aboard, I'd call on the most obvious source: spammers.

Think about it.

If you ever look at the unwanted emails that fill either your inbox or your junk folder, you will detect a pattern. Most of the spam is related to something you've done on your computer.

Let's say you needed AAA batteries for all the gizmos that can be found everywhere in your house. And let's say you found a great deal on AAA batteries on some website. And let's say you ordered a bunch of AAA batteries and paid for shipping. And let's say your batteries arrived in good shape and you used some of them.

Now go check your junk folder. I'll bet you'll find several -- if not dozens -- of emails from outfits you've never heard of offering fantastic deals on AAA batteries -- plus free shipping!

That's just one tame example of how much spammers know about what you and your computer are up to. If you get my drift.

I mean, once you've been tempted to open one email regarding the spectacular enhancement of a certain part of the male anatomy, it's Katie bar the door. Soon you'll be flooded with emails that would make a sex-starved sailor blush.

Not all spam comes by way of your computer. Robo telephone calls are another indication that someone out there knows more about you than you want to admit.

And the folks who make robo phone calls -- the ones who always call you by your first name even when you're known to all your friends by your middle name or a nickname -- always seem surprised when you can't understand the strange dialect of what passes for English that they are speaking.

"Hello, Row-NALD," the voice on the line says. "How do you like something something something which you recently purchased?"

First of all, I'm not sure exactly what the spammer said, and I can't figure out how he would know if I bought one. Did I call some customer service department and place an order? By this time the spammer has launched into some sort of spiel. Thanks to his bizarre use of my native tongue and my hearing deficiencies, I only understand about a third of what he is saying. So I hang up.

I do not apologize when I shut off a spammer call. I used to. That's the way I was brought up. But spammers were, obviously, all raised by louts and good-for-nothings, because that's how they behave if you try to get involved in whatever it is they are pushing.

Recently, after hanging up on spammer calls, I've regretted it somewhat, not because it's bad manners, but because I realized I should have asked.

I should have asked, "Can you tell me where that plane is?"

There are -- what? -- close to 6 billion humans on our planet now. Fully 1 billion of them are full-time spammers. That's just a guess on my part, but I'll bet I'm not far off. And spammers have ways of tracking everything everybody says and does. It's hard to believe they would compile such a vast database and, at the same time, fail to take note of a jetliner with hundreds of passengers aboard.

Maybe some smart official in Malaysia or China or Australia or somewhere has already checked with the spammers of the world and asked for their help. Maybe the spammers, being spammers, asked for millions or billions of dollars for this information. Maybe the officials were hesitant to risk millions or billions of dollars on information that might or might not help find the missing airplane.

Who knows?

All I know is that if I book a flight from St. Louis to anywhere, I am soon deluged with emails and phone calls regarding hotels and car rentals at my destination.

You want to find that airplane? Skip the military satellites. Stay away from the CIA and all those other supersecret government agencies. Simply do an Internet search for "Malaysia airplane whereabouts."

And sit back.

Watch your email inbox and junk folder.

Or wait for the phone call. "Row-NALD! You need to find Malaysia airplane? I can help. We will set up a Western Union account for you, and all your questions will be answered. I promise. I am good something something something. Trust me."

Joe Sullivan (better known as Row-NALD to his friendly spammers) is the retired editor of the Southeast Missourian.