The Thanks We Don't Git

We've all done it.

Said or wrote something in haste that, upon review, just didn't come out sounding quite like we meant it to.

We're all human. Unless we're trees. Or BP. But I digress.

Anyway, I received another effort to give me the business. One purportedly related to the 2004 Tsunami, which, as everyone knows, was Bush's fault.

Well, the sender -- identifying himself as Dr. FUNG Victor Kwok King, Director of the Bank of China -- apparently had one of those days, when (de)composing the email he sent to me and probably 500 others. It, I am sorry to say....wasn't convincingly written.

And I felt bad for him. Really. I haven't felt bad for anyone who was trying to screw me over in a while, and I was rather overdue in the exercising of my compassion department*.

So I swore to take a page from some kumbayaesque book, and help him out. Really.

Taking a thoughtful, helpful pen in hand -- taking care not to write anything akin to the picture above -- I fixed Dr. F.K. King's missive. Fixed it, and sent it right back to him. Allow me to share with you how I was so giving of my time and syllablic experience, and see if you don't agree about how compassionate and helpful I was:

Subject: DISASTER OF 2004 TSUNAMI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

From: Dr. FUNG Yu Victor King Kwong Smith, Esq.

It is understandable that you might be a little bit apprehensive because you do not know me. So just get the guppy f*** over it. I tell you that this particular letter/email is of exceptional and very primate nature, so don't monkey with it. I want you to keep this between you and me, and forget that I've sent out about 10,000 of these f***ing things, hoping to get two or three dumb sh**s to respond.

I need you to believe that my vantage position in Bank of Chia Pets will serve to make this deal legitimate in a liberal way, even though it is really so much egg roll sh**. But for me, it can be rewarding egg roll sh**, if you fall for it.

I have the lack of honor be lead you to believe that I am Dr. FUNG Yu Victor King Kwong Smith, that I am 63 years old, and happily masturbate with pandas. The importance of this will not soon become apparent, and I hope you forget you read that.

I will need you to believe that I am an executive in the Bank of China, even though I just artificially inseminate pandas, which of course you forgot as you as you read it, right? If you believe the former, I have access to $30.5 million USD. You don't need to know that this fund is total chow mein sh**; you just need to believe that these funds were deposited with our bank by a customer who is a national of your country, who died during the Tsunami of 2004, though it was only because he got dork-hung in a sex basket, and he actually masturbated to death trying to tread water. He kinda looked like Jim Carrey in the movie MASK when he was found, but I guess this is all so much TMI.

Anyway, you can read about it here (I substituted the links Doc FUNG had listed, and put in a link to another blogger's entry about flatulent ducks or something akin).

Be that as it may, I need you to believe that the fake account has been declared doorknob since 2006 and these funds will be declared unserviceable and turned over to Fast Eddie Wong's Fortune Cookie & Slut Shop, if the deceased doesn't have some kind of vertebrated mammals related to him through anything but Arkansas inbreeding Social Services, step or come forward. This is where you come in, especially if you are from Arkansas, but not necessary for my purposes, long as we don't have to shake hands. I also want you to believe that this transaction is 100% legally pandash**, and equally so is my claim that all the relevant documents necessary to make this work to my benefit, are in my possession, having just made them up with my computer that doubles as a panda vibrator.

If you respond to me, use this handy email address (which I kind of rendered hors de transmit), and I shall start you on your journey to being thoroughly screwed by me, so that me and my internet cafe chums -- panda inseminators all -- can laugh our slanted asses off at you while we spend your money on inflatable whores and alcohol-laced kimshi. Give me your information so that we may laugh at you properly:

Your Full Name:

Current Contact Address:

Your present Occupation:

Your Age:

Your Wife's virgin rebushing combination:

Any wok-able pets:

Your phone numbers:

Please if you are not interested because you are too smart to be duped, kindly f*** off and die, asswipe. Otherwise, your earliest response to this letter will be highly amusing.

Sincerely,

Dr. FUNG Yu Victor King Kwong Smith, Esq.

This was, of course, promptly dispatched to Dr. FUNG's email address, and I eagerly awaited some note of thanks or appreciation for my compassionate efforts.

Two days later, I was very rudely disabused of the notion that compassion is worth spit in the river:

u no funnee f*** off uself.

Dang.

I thought I was bein' helpful. Or at the least, kinda funny. Guess I wuz neither, huh?

* right after writing that, my conservative system rebelled, and I projectile vomited