Santa's Onna Roll

*From the '07 ho-ho-ho archives*

When maybe he shoulda stopped at a croissant, but I digress.

This is the time of year that I note the email scammers shift to a bit of a religious cover for their operations. Two recent receipts lowlight this. Another one -- allegedly from France -- well, I can't tell if it's religious or just referencing a religious icon (aka, golf), as it's written completely in French.

Now, I know Tish could speak French (it always drove Gomez nuts, but I digress again), but my French is dubious at best, and a diplomatic crisis at worst. But it didn't stop 'Santa' from taking le whack at it.

First up is the 'Reverend Henry Reeds' with an email address of thomas.williams8@bigpond.com; Rev. Reeds writes in part "i am from the Royal Roman catholic ministry here in Birmingham England.Due to my privileged African American background, i have been consulted by a top Black American human right activist who is dying from Cancer in our hospital here in England. my patient tell me she is has a sum of $20.5 million in her bank here but say she wants to give all to charity when she die.

He goes on about how she has lived her life and how now, "at the threshord, she wishes to make atunement for parts in her life not well lived. So I seek you, an honest and, reliable businessman who can assist her,because i have never handled or heard about that kind of money in my entire life,i am just a Catholic priest".

*snort*. Ol' Santa had the elves on the floor with this reply, though the reindeer were crossing themselves, just in case:

My dubious Padre,

Ho ho ho! I gather you are unfamiliar with handling large sums of charitable money because, as the aforementioned Padre you represent yourself to be, you have been too busy handling choirboys in the choir loft, you shameless diddler, you. Bad padre. Very baaaaaaad padre. My good friend Cheech and Chong once opined "Baliff, whack his pee-pee!" I might even add to that with my studded snow boots, squarely up your bunghole when I see you on Christmas Eve night, you and your faux-dying ho-ho-ho.

But Santa helps all who send wishes to him this holiday season, even those of dubious antecedence with outhouse pit sludge intents. And for you, I have the game Confession, where you confess all sins, and then throw yourselves under a bus, preferrably a moving double-decker. Oooh, one of my elves liked that so much, he just blew milk and boogers out his nose, and all over the packing-and-shipping computer. That might delay your getting the game Confession. But we do backorder with UPS. Patience, laddie.

So, Rev. Padre Senator Harry Reid...er...oops, confused you with another chicanerous yutz, ho-ho-ho...Henry Reeds, to you and yours this Holiday Season, I will see you soon, studded snow boot up your bunghole and all!

I'm getting a sense that Santa's getting testy as "crunchtime" is getting closer.

Next up, we have Evangelist Rosemary Collins (evangrosemary@gmail.com), who writes with light and gay blasphemy:

Greetings, beloved. Greeting in the name of our lord Jesus I am Mrs. Evangelist Rosemary Collins, widow to the late Mr. Smith Collins, I am 68years old, I am a new Christian convert suffering from long time canser of the breast.from all indications my condition is really deteriorated and its quite obvious i won't live for more than two moths according to my doctors.This is because the canser stage has gotten to very bad stage.i don't want your pity but i want your trust.

She goes on to talk about how her husband was killed by Americans in Afghanistan (doing what, she doesn't say), that they never had "childern" during their long marriage, and that they were "very wealthy" (uh huh), to the tune of $12 million USD.

And now? I need you to collect this fund and distribute it yourself to church, Muslim society, charity and underprivilege. i was into charity organisation before this illness come to stricken me down. i understood now that money acquisition without God is vanity (lol...no you don't, you lying sack of dung, but she goes on). Due to my failed health which soon kills me, you are to respond to my lawyer i hand over everything to, who will immediate file out the funds for you on my behalf. He is Barrister Richard Keith (barristerrichardkeith02@yahoo.fr) and he wait for your reply.

She ends with this: May the grace of all the might God the love of God and the fellowship of God be with you in petuity.

A more moving benediction, I have heard. This one kinda reminds me of the infamous "Pastor Gas", Robert Tilton, the TV fauxvangelist, at his most flatulent. And back to speaking of movement, this generated one in Santa, but he kept it off the paper, though just barely:

Ebabbleist Rosemary's Baby and Bannister Keith,

*Subdued ho-ho-ho*...it is sad that I hear from you at this time with this story, Rosemary's Baby. Wow. Married all those years to your bombed corpse hubby and he didn't knock you up once? What WERE you doing? Too busy trying to screw other folks, to spread once for your old terrorist reprobate?

Canser, eh? Y'know, had you just asked ol' Kris Kringle, I'd a told ya that playing with those astrological signs and that zodiac sh** would get you one of these days. Just be happy you didn't get capricorned. Those goat's feet up your private orifices would have been...well, let's just say you'd a soon been a little more amorous toward your incinerated spouse, but Santa digresses.

At any rate, my chicanerous corpse-in-waiting, confession is good for the soul. Yassiree, wench, shore 'tis. And yours is desperate in need of it, what with you shortly to be charred frizzle in the place your soul is bound for. You've been one baaaaaaad broad, indeed.

As for you, Bannister Keith, formerly of the Rolling Bones rock band...yessir, Santa knows all this sh**, so don't try with some sleazy denials or disguises...you've been 'outted'. Traded the life of a doping, drunken, living transfusion-to-transfusion rock star, to become a lower-than-snake-spit lawyer representing Serengeti road apples on the MisInformation Super Highway, eh? Well, I can tell you that what Santa has in mind for you, all the Vaseline in the world won't help when it gets jammed up your bunghold, what with it being studded and a foot wide, laddie. You're a baaaaaaaaaaad bannister.

Looking forward to making my pointed and very relevant deliveries to the both of you, Christmas Eve night. Ho ho ho (with an eye toward Rosemary's Babycakes)!

Santa Claus

Finally (or perhaps too late), there's this email from Golf Infoline Service (golf.infoline.service@latinmail.com), who sent the following...in French (I think it's one of those 'you won some Microsoft Lotto' fraud things:

A votre aimable attention. Dans l'optique d'etendre son reseau partout dans le monde, recompenser les internautes de l'annee en cours et rendre de familles huereuses en cette fin d'annee, la Structure de Financement de Porjets, LA GOLF FINANCE en association avec quelques grandes filiales telles MICROSOFT CORPORATION ont lance une Tombola Internet gratuite basee sur les differentes adresses electroniques des internautes du monde entier.

And thus it goes on...and on...and on...for three more Chef Boyardee paragraphs, concluding with Pour eviter toutes fraudes, un service de controle a ete mis en place. Nous vous prions de le contacter pour plus de certitude sur la Tombola organisee. Le Service Controle, GOLF INFOLINE SERVICE (golf.infoline.service@gmail.com)

What le foch?

Oh well...I left this one to Santa, master of slaughtering all things multi-lingual:

Le Ho-ho-ho dear Monsieurs and Madamoseilles,

Messy bird coup avec pastry resistant pepe lepew; save ze bone pettifore les miserables engarde eiffle down and can't get le up, moanamee. Souffle flambe faux pas, enfante enterrible, lafontaine lafayette escadrille up sur le posterior orifice de certitude! Crepe Suzette (le bitch) cavort hors d'oeuvre up your bunghole, hors concours! Marseilles bon homme le flume de flatulence le pew mon poirot en le wagon-lit! Aucune, ou est la masse de croissant? Sedan! Cafe la Seine ack phooey! Le Debacle! Bonchance, french fries.

Olive warts,

St. Nick

Since I couldn't understand much of what they writ me, I reckon they'll have a bit of le difficultee getting the gist of Santa's demarche. Viva le expresso!

Whatever. I hope Santa's in a mellower mood when he does his fly-by hyar. I'll be happy for just a lump of coal on the patio ;-) Real coal, not the look-alike stuff that I suspect was dropped by a reindeer...