It Don't Always Work

*From the 2006 overplayed scambait archives*

There have been many, many times that I was convinced there should be no way -- no possible way -- that as stupid as these Nigerian email scammers are with the replies I send them, they should be able to scam candy corn from a 5 year old.

But once in a while, they ain't quite as dumb as I reckon 'em to be.

In the past month, I've fired back replies to about a dozen. One of them managed to wind up as an eight part episode on this blog.

A few others showed they have a better grasp of the English language than I gave 'em credit for.
For instance, there was Ms. Maureen Serewa (maurre16@gawab.com), claiming to be a long suffering deaf girl of dead parents who left her an inheritance in Nigeria, and she needed the help of a "compassionate foreigner" to liberate those funds for her. Replying to her initial email titled "Please Can You Help Me???", perhaps I went a bit overboard in my approach:

Why, of course I can, Ms Muh-reen! They don't call me DR. U. R. Phulovit, pHd, for nuthin'. Now just follow these simple instructions, and this will render you instant relief, I am confidently positive:

1. Print this reply
2. Fold it in half
3. Turn around in front of a mirror
4. Drop your drawers...pantaloons...whatever
5. Place this in your backside, sideways
6. Insert with emphasis
7. and email me in the morning

No need to thank me; I'll send you a bill.
AFLAC (see what I just did there?)!

I was almost *shocked* that she didn't bother to reply; then I got to thinking that perhaps she didn't have a mirror to see what I just did there.

Then there was one -- "Baba Davena" -- who claimed to be the "personal treasurer/financier to Mikhail Kohdorkovsky, the Richest man in Russia". Now the Russians are in this gig, too? Of course it would follow (somehow) that a "Russian" following in the Nigerian footsteps would be named "Baba Davena" (davenababa@aim.com).

My reply there was calculated to make him ralph his borscht, anyway:

"BABA DAVENA"? MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
*SNORT CHORTLE GUFFAW TITTER ROAR*
"BABA DAVENA"?

That's about as Russian as Zigfeldt Al-Qiri El Diablo Kumquat. Why don't you try this name instead: Mr. Yukin Shovitupyouasski? You funny, funny mans, Baba. Piss poor scammer, but funny mans.

I didn't even get a KGB "thank you for letting us investigate you" note for that piece of brilliant advice. Maybe they weren't as in agreement with my brilliance as I tongue-in-cheek thunk me to be.

Next there was Mrs. Mariam Kone (mariam_40kone@yahoo.ca) , who claimed that her late husband of Sierre Leone descent fell to rebels of the Empire of the Pun or some such, and she -- a since-widowed waif -- needed the help of a "sincere, God-fearing person of sterling personal integrity" to obtain her inheritance for her.

Having just concluded a minor tiff over a tongue-in-cheek geography lesson, I felt it only fair to find out how a totally independent, "no dawg in the fight" third party felt about it, too:

Ma'am:

Before I consent to your giving me this business so close to your scheming heart, I must ask you one very key question: will you be offended if I make fun of New Mexico? Or for that matter, Iowa? Kansas? Toledo? Newark? Upper Volta?

Your answer to this is most important, Ma'am.

Alas, no reply: guess more than one person took offense.

Finally, there was this most recent offering from -- of all personages -- a princess. Yep, that's right: I was being appealed to by royalty. Princess Sarah Johnson (pr.sarah11@yahoo.fr or princesssarahjohnson1@yahoo.com) *barely restrained guffaw*, daughter of the late Chief Adam Johnson *snort*, "who lost his life in the course of crisis here in Cote D'ivoire on his way to there company (Nestle Food Plc)"..*died over a crunch bar? Mwhahahahahaha*. And because she was under the age of 22, she needed the help of a "reliable foreign person", and had learned through "internet research" that I was "such a person she could turn to".

Please put on a version of that violin solo from Young Frankenstein! to go along with this.

At any rate, I wanted to impress her with how impressed a country bumpkin like me is, to be contacted by royalty with the genuine effort to give me the royal business. I don't think I succeeded:

Your most Roiledness:

I don't know what ta say hyar; ain't nevr been writ to by a princess afore. It is...so humblin a thang to have happin. My ma always sez ah'd nevr mount to much more than a hoot in a holler, and ah nevr quite knowd what that wuz supposed ta amount to, but ah didn't figger it fer much.

Now, like one a them short fellers from the movie Charcoalrella, ah dun been touched by a real princess. Right proud moment fer me, Ma'am, shore 'nuff. My classmates at Hawggutts High will be eatin' their harts out when they gits a load a dis.

But nuff a that thar...what, malady, can this modest, humble and awsteer subject do on behalf of your Roiledness? Command me hyar, Princess; ah await yer biddin'. Hope it starts at aleast $5. Iffen y'all needs wun, ah knows a auctioneer h'yarbouts what kin flap the lips offa suck-egg mule, shore 'nuff.

An' jest so's ya know: you may be a princess, but ah ain't no frawg. My friens call me "warthawg", but that's better than a frawg.

Guess maybe she was good enough with her cypherin' and wordifying to figger out what it wuz ah dun said hyar. No reply.

Guess my classmates at Hawggutts High won' give a hoot in a holler either, eh?