I used to be like you. A nice, normal, functional human being. A model citizen. A strapping young American boy. But then I started a revolution.

I used to be afraid. Afraid of the Internet. I was at the mercy of my inbox. Every day, it would explode with junk e-mail. I lived in fear — fear of spam.

Then one day, my life changed. I opened my first spam.

My new credit card arrived in the mail less than a week later. I held it in my hands. It was shiny, gold, powerful. With no annual fee and 0 percent APR, nothing would stand in my way.

The card was but the first of many. Flush with credit, I returned to my inbox.

And the acquisition began. George Foreman Grills. Harry Potter novels. New and used cars. J-Lo engagement ring replicas. It was easy to afford it all, since I was rich quick many times over.

Soon my small apartment, like my inbox, was too full to manage. Luckily, I had a new credit card. I bought me a house. A secret compound, if you will.

Now that my operations were in the middle of nowhere, there was no stopping my acquisition. Office chairs. Commemorative plates from the Franklin Mint. Toner and Inkjet refills. Then the fateful day came. I purchased my first slave.

Soon I had a small army of workers, each with their own set of gold cards and an Internet connection. My collection grew. I purchased more premium real estate to hold my prizes.

Then I got out of the trifle business and began purchasing military might. This wonderful e-mail arrived from Russia, and I purchased their military overstock with my gold card. And some weapons-grade uranium.

The government didn’t know about me. Since all my income came from illegal real estate trades and spamming conducted from offshore (I purchased a CD-ROM with more than 500 million e-mail addresses), my operation dodged the IRS and the Department of Defense.

The attack began. Within 24 hours, the world was at my mercy.

Running the world was tough at first, but when I promised to rid the globe of spam e-mail, the world quickly filed behind my iron-fisted dictatorship. Little did they know that my decision was purely selfish. Without the power of spam, there would be no one to challenge me.

Life was peaceful. I had 50 years of exotic vacations to look forward to.

Of course, not everything was this easy. My doughy body had become the pinnacle of physical fitness, since I had managed to lose the weight and keep it off. And my abs were perfectly sculpted.

Women from all over the world lined up, hoping for a small piece of my money, power and lithe, toned body. But there was a problem. Since my manhood has grown disproportionately large, children are out of the question and I shall die without an heir. When I die, the world will certainly lapse into chaos.

With war over and utopia dawning, there isn’t much for me to do. I am lonely, even with my computer chock full o’ porno to keep me company.

Sometimes, I’ll cook an Omaha steak on that first George Foreman Grill. And tears will well up in my eyes, and my bargain contact lenses will fall to the floor.