If You Can't Stop Em
Then infiltrate them, a fox amongst the hounds, and insult them with insincere imitation.
If you have no life like me, it's something to do.
The Nigerian 419 avalanche continues, and I have just about worn the print off my *Delete* button; then, I get this one email from some hork named Bell Chika.
Instead of starting up a dialogue with this bozoid, I took and sort of **rewrote** his scam letter to me.
Then I emailed it back to him. And about 20 other recent scamster email addresses I'd saved up. Along with two of my blog readers (I was careful to 'bcc' them two), just to see how alert they are.
I present you now with a scam letter to the scamsters:
Subj: Re: Senegal Victim's Advocate Office (Signatories To The Seinfeld Re-runs Deal)
I am so very sorry if I pried into your privy during a mammoth power dump, but I am convinced that you are just the one to provide me with a solution to my most desperate hour of need, perhaps to be superceded by an even more desperate hour of need, when I need one.
Pleased it be that I am Mr. Chika Bell, distant cousin to Tinker Bell, now a penniless waif currently in the care of the Senegal Victim's Advocate Office, a non-profit organization of dubious antecedence and sexual prodigy. I am writing on behalf of ... myself: in 2003, I was happy, pre-testosteronal, and heir to an ill-gotten fortune, placed in trust for me by the dictator who adopted me, General Ukulele Ungabungabunga, who was subsequently killed in a rebel suicide hamster bombing on the road to Dakar, while seeking prostitutes.
I myself was, at a young age and no longer under the tutelage of my protector/dictator/pervert, set upon and defrocked by a deranged pygmy in a Sponge Bob Squarepants outfit, and will forever after will be haunted by the lyrics of that stupid theme song. Up to then, I'd been a happy if frustrated 17 year old virgin, what with all the camels having been run off during the years of civil war, but I digress.
Nonetheless, with the stains of a perverse sponge permeating my personage, I ws deemed too young and prone to to attacks by wayward crustaceans, to be able to access the funds left to me by my pervert adopted dictator. Thus, they were placed in a trust.
Now, I learn that the Barrister-General of the Senegalese Port & Spirits Authority, Rasheed Achmed Fahrad Ackbar Mohamneggs Hussein al Ben Sadr Suckeggmule, has made it legally impossible for me to have access to my funds, and is in concert with Crosby Stills Nash and Swiss bankers to confiscate my rightful inheritance.
This is where you come in as the saviour of myself. You, being the good Christian/Catholic/Muslim/Hindu/Buddhist/Mormon/Orthodow National Hebrew Kosher Hotdog/DeadHead/Fatwa/Organic Tofu/Perpetual Cosmic Horkage/Agnostic/Atheist/Bloody Post Nasal Drip -- or whatever you are consigned to be by the Great Meadow Muffin Maker in Paradise -- I know that I can count on your intercession on my behalf.
I ask of you to kindly front as my lawful next of kin, with a foreign bank account, to petition the Senegalese Chamber of Tourism and Hostages as my bonafide next of kin, whereupon the entirety of my rightful assets -- $35 Million in bills of US Confederacy denomination, secretly acquired by my late benefactor from gypsies, tramps and thieves -- will be delivered into your account, before it can be confiscated by the diabolical Barrister-General and his odious harem of Teletubbies and SpongeBob Squarepanted perverted pygmies.
Time is short as the bank has petitioned the Barrister-General of too many surnames for permission to confiscate all of my rightful funds, within 25 business days.
So you see, I need your patience, trust, diligence, honesty, blind devotion to bullshit and thorough gullibility NOW, to make this miracle happen. Upon your email that verifies your willingness to be dup...my saviour, I am agreed that you will be entitled to 55% of this fund, while I will take only 35% -- my wants and needs are austere, being a humble waif with low self-esteem after my experience with the pervert pygmy in the Sponge Bob outfit -- with the remaining 20% going to expenses, taxes, dealer prep and options, not to mention a math tutor for me, since I don't think those percentages add up right.
Once we have the funds successfuly ensconced in your bank account, we ill destory all documents and part ways and curds with our respective shares; whereupon I shall seek asylum at the Neverland Ranch, since I am given to understand the surigically-altered pervert that runs the place is busying chasing kids and camels in Qatar.
I cannot stress this enough: YOU ARE MY LAST, BEST HOPE IN THIS LIFE. Perhaps even in my next two or three lives, if reintarnation is your bag. All I require from you is your honest cooperation to enable us to see this sca...er...thing through. I also need a promise from you that you will not only maintain absolut confidentiality (or whatever brand of vodka you prefer), but that you won't give me up to another pygmy pervert in a Sponge Bob Squarepants or Barney the Purple dinosaur outfit.
Please know that as you read this, you are fully protected from any breach of the laws of Nature that might apply. I don't know about anything else.
I am most eager for your early answer and affirmation.
Mr. Chika Bell, waif, victim, part-time victim model for Reuters photographers, and afraid of amourous seafood
Snegal Victim's Advocate Office
So far, I've received one response from a scamster, complaining that my "format is too long too read".
* well actually, just about completely
** well actually, pretty much completely...