Oh please. Everybody on the Internet expects Monty Python. They, it goes with the web like a dog and fleas. Really ubiquitous fleas, so much so that parts of the dog get named after them.
Four hundred years from now, when almost everything we do today has been forgotten, people will still message each other versions of "I got better," "No one expects the Spanish Inquisition," and so on. Various uses for the Holy Hand Grenade and Shrubberies, and, of course, "Spam spam spam spam, spamity spam, wonderful spam" will clutter the Galictinet. (Unless, of course, we've aced ourselves by then.)
I sometimes wonder if there aren't people on earth today who would be surprised to learn that Spam is actually a strangely delicious canned pork product (when cooked as bacon in the microwave, anyway)?
