If The Suit Fits

*Disclaimer: eating any food item(s) with particles small enough to involuntarily traverse the sinus passages to land on one's keyboard/monitor, when an unfamiliar/made-up word/phrase is unexpectedly encountered, should be avoided. Ditto for beverages*

My friend at the Denver Better Business Bureau received yet another solicitation that she was sure suited me to a tee. It would prove to be even dressier.

It begins with a solicitation from an officious-sounding gent of dubious antecedence, James David Mark, a member of something officious-sounding, Lloyd's Chambers, Portsoken Street, BT1 8BN, Belfast, Nothern Ireland (he never does spell it right, either), with the officious-sounding email addy of

jamesdavmark@yahoo.co.uk. The gist of it is, in his own woids:

I am in search of a profitable real estate or telecommunications investment business in your Country and I would be glad if you can assist me in any way possible (ie., give me your wallet and bend over).

As usual, he learned of me through "online reliable assets" and felt I was "adequate to the demands of the transaction". Eloquent bastard, at least in the opening salvo.

So earthy, urbane, erudite and worldly U. R. Phulovit, is tagged to make the response:

Sir:

Just WTF is this all about now? Granted, I am most adept at making myself rise to the demands of transactions that seek to give me the business; so I am not anathema to your effort. Perhaps you'll indulge my curiosity here with a further explanation of just WTF you have in mind.

Eloquent though he was -- and for now, remains -- James David Mark, or Mark David James, or David James Mark, as he alternately responds as, is not quite as adept at reading and grasping all of that which is writ to him. For instance, in response to my reply, I get this:

I am happy to note that you are genuinely interested in helping me execute my investment project in your Country (laddie, I'm genuinely interested in executing anything involving you in ANY country, but I digress and he goes on). I have family assets totalling $3.2 million USD that I seek to aggressively invest in your Country, and I eagerly anticipate your detailed investment proposal on how these funds will be proactively utilized, so we can recognize profits after a just period of investment in your Country.

As I told you...eloquent. He's got a good script writer, so far. Just not a good script reader or researcher, as my next reply will prove out:

Sir, I am happy to provide you with that which you endeavor to find, and thensome. Let me firm up your confidence and trust in myself as a worthy partner to give the business to, by affirming that I am exceptionally savvy in the realm of financial perpiscasity (whatever I just said and misspelled there), and I have wide and comprehensive knowledge of financial markets and opportunities hereabouts. As a research analyst for the International Crustacean Obedience Training Institute in Vaduz, Liechtenstein, I am poised on the cusp of cutting-edge technology and trends, and can't wait to give you what you have coming. As a further measure of my commitment to deliver you just that, I provide you with a copy of my international passport (I imagine Pat Paulsen is snickering in that dead-pan manner of his from the grave), and I shall endeavor to commence a thorough plan for the execution of your proposal, in little to no time at all.

This reply goes unanswered for a week, and for a brief moment, I reckon I underestimated Mr. Mark David James (or flip-flop the whole thing, as he does) and his comprehension ability. Then he finally responds, and dismisses that notion:

I wish to confirm receipt of your mail and the content was noted well. Sorry I have not written you all this while, I have been doing end business in Turkey (is this something you really want to make claim to...admitting you like to butt-foul fowl?). I am returning to England fulfilled here (what a pervert) and will advise you soonest on the next things to be done.

I hope having a cigarette isn't one of them, since I don't indulge. At any rate, "upon his return to England", James David Mark (or flip-flop the whole thing, as he does) sends me a page and a half document he refers to as our "Basis of Agreement" which dictates what and how we are to proceed, and providing the "legal bindings attendance therein", and asks me to study it and agree to the contents, before planning my trip to England, to finalize the deal.

I decide that a further test of his comprehension -- in view of his eloquence and sexual perversion -- is warranted, and after a couple days, respond thus:

Sir, I have completed a comprehensive and thorough study of the "Basis of Agreement" you have sent me, and find that, with one exception, there is nothing therein that I find objectionable. What I do find objectionable -- and will expect you to expunge, or take care of yourself, what with your earlier stated sexual prediliction in this regard -- is the part that I am expected to sodomize turkeys, as you recently satisfied yourself doing. That's just too wrong for me. I suggest you do your own anal turkey stuffing, and leave the investment planning to me.

So far, his reading comprehension is consistent...ly bad:

I wish to update you with the new development in this transaction. I had a meeting with my account manger (oops, are we deviating a bit from the eloquence script?)

and it wont be necessary for you to come to England, but the fund will be transferred to Canada, and once consummated there, will require you to travel there to sign relevent documents. I need a confirmaton from you before this step is initiation (uh, yup...deviance has set in; I 'spect it started with the turkey).

Let's see if my throwing a snit about the change of venue catches his comprehension radar at all:

What? CANADA? WTF, hoser! That's in North America! Take a map of the world, sir. I live in Liechtenstein. It's between Switzerland, Italy, Austria and Germany. To my east is a wasteland of French and Islamofascists, and then the whole frigging Atlantic Ocean! At least I could get to England without that much trouble! I must tell you that this definitely throws a monkey in the pumps, and most monkeys don't walk all that well in any kind of heels.

Even with that, David Mark James (or flip-flopped, as heretofore noted), notes only the seminal issue here, and is quick to compromise:

I wish not to unduly inconvenience you, my partner. After a further discussion with my account manger (at least he's consistent) it is decided that a bank in Spain can be used for the funds transfer. This will be easier for you, yes? Please acknowledge, and we shall then arrange for your contact with the bank in Madrid.

We shall indeed:

Sir, having this business arranged in Spain where I can arrive by plane or train, is splendiferous, shine or rain. Your magnanimousness is truly faciliatory to the overall objective of executing your plan in a manure entirely satisfactory. I shall await the name and address of your bank of choice in Madrid, whereupon my travel arrangements will be prepared.

Okay...now that I seem to have located my partner's Achilles tendency -- to not comprehend all of what I send him -- it's time to start getting revenge for that poor turkey. I start with completely ignoring his email about some bank in Madrid I am to email, and an improbably-named Spaniard, Ahmed Khammad, my "contact" therein.

After three days, I get this:

How are you doing today my partner? What is really going on? I have sent you email on bank informations yet no response from you, please let me know what is goings on?

Further erosion of the eloquence of old. My response:

All is well and as one widda woild here. Things are progressing slowly, but quality is preferred over quantity, don't you agree, maestro?

A day, later, Mark David James (you know the rest) is a bit restive:

I am not understanding your reply. The bank has heard not from you and time is not on our side (it would be if you had a pocket watch). Get in touch with bank today and follow up with me soonest.

Another day suffices, and I throw him this:

Sir, we seem to have found a turd in the spagetti: I have emailed the bank as directed, and I have heard no response. Frankly, I am concerned about a Spanish bank and an Islamofascist contact therein. This just doesn't sound to me suited to our purposes of execution. In fact, the non-response of your bank has led me to contact another bank, Joseph A Bank, who has a helluva good deal on suits and ties right now. 40% off. And there, they won't ruin a good suit with a satchel charge hidden underneath. How's about some stylin' and profilin'?

Early that afternoon, James David Mark (see above) sends back a reply that suggests some of the scales are starting to fall from the less-eloquent eyes:

I am not understanding what you have said . i gave you expicit instruction on what to do and how to contact and you havent done the instructed thing . what bank is this you talk of with suits off? Please to contact security firm (uh, bubi, it was a BANK, remember?) and follow your instructs now. i have put trust in you and this is not right of you . Do as you are said.

Now that the scales are falling (and the eloquence is plummeting), let's work some more on executing his plan:

David Mark James Chapman, what are you talking about? 40% off is the BOMB, dude! And sh**, they've included dress shirts and pants, too! Screw your bank...this one is ROCKIN'! I vote we spend your whole family fortune here, and I won't have to worry about work or formal attire for the next 10 years! Tell Achmed or whatever his stupid Islamofascist name was, to go sit on a vacuum and blow himself! If we deal, we use MY bank, not YOURS.

Think about it...you wanna be a fragment from a suicide bomb, or a chick magnet on the European jetset? No comparison in my book, laddie.

This sends James Mark ChappedAss David (see above) over the edge:

STOP STOP STOP THIS IDOT STUFF!!! YOU ARE FOOL!!! WAST MY TIME WITH IDIOT STUFF NO MORE YOU DUMB F***ING PERSON!!!

Wow. I think I upset him. Let's make sure of it:

ChappedAss, does this mean you're not gonna buy me any discounted suits and stuff? Horsefeathers...I so wanted to be a chick magnet. Oh well...enjoy blowing yourself into fragments while you butt-bone turkeys.

Sadly, that was the last I heard from James David Mark (see above). Oh well...I'm a jeans and polo shirt kinda guy, anyway.