I'm very grateful to spammers--no, no, not for increasing the circumference of my geoduck or helping them smuggle a pallet of gold ingots out of Nigeria--but at least once a day I come across a sender's name that makes me smile so hard that the top half of my head might just tip over backwards and hang by some tendons or whatnot if I weren't careful, but don't worry, I'm careful about such things. Anyway, today's name is Ursel Heisterkamp. The joy of hearing such a moniker is always rendered bittersweet by the knowledge that there is not, in all likelihood, a real Ursel Heisterkamp. But if there were, I'd sure like to meet him. I imagine he'd be wearing a tan leisure suit and have a pencil mustache and dandruff. He'd drive an Olds Cutlass Supreme and every evening he'd go to Hardee's and buy an Angus Bacon Cheeseburger and sit by himself by the window and stare at the traffic, chewing.