Got Their Goat

There are times that even I'm surprised by how twisted I can be in responding to scammers.

It's great.

After a bit of a lull in February, I seem to have inadvertently had my email address stumble into an incredibly rich deposit of scammers, playing all of the usual ploys (only one new in the scams being tried; future blog post). One thing that seems to distinguish this crop, however...is how patently STUPID they are (aka, some of my most recent posts).

So when I received eight new offers to give me the business late last week, one of those suggestive *TOING*s went off, that usually bodes ill, far as my sick creativity streak goes.

I've played scammer vs scammer before; sometimes, the results are a hoot. Several years ago, I got two different Mariam Abachas to square off for a few days, both vying to prove to me that the other was a fraud. That may well remain one of my best play-offs.

This one....well....you decide.

With eight contestants entered in the Emailican Idol competition that none of them knew they'd entered, I selected one -- Samuel Anderson (samuelanderson@ladyfire.com) -- to be the pigeon, with the rest (Bayo Jacobs, A. Martins, Martin Coles, John Mamadou, Jeff Koffi, and John Boucher and Henry Oben) being the intended targets of Anderson's email gambit.

Which, of course, I re-wrote. And then forwarded to the lucky 7, "at the behest" of Anderson (not).

Anderson's original ploy involved a bank account in Scotland with 16 million UK pound sterling, a dead account owner, and his offer to me (as aka, an 'undisclosed recipient'), to help him spirit the money out of the country, for us to share.

Instead, I took a bit of..er..'twisted' creative liberty, and re-arranged Anderson's missive, which now targetted me as a 'mediator', between Anderson and the other 7 scammers.

How twisted...well, you decide. Here's what I sent out to all, on Anderson's behalf:

Good day with hopes for a much baaaaaaaahtter one,

I am an incestment consultant working with the Royal Bank of Scottish Sodomy at their offshore department Suffolk House of Bestiality, Whitehall, London. I will be happy to work this deal out with you, because I need your help to arrange for me, sex with live goats, and several persons I am determined to make these arrangements with. These persons I have learned, through research and reputation -- both online, and scratched into various public restroom walls -- have the breed of goat that I favor for sodomous sex. Can you cantact these persons for me and convey to them my deep desire for wild anal sex with their goats? They are:

Bayo Jacobs

A. Martins

Martin Coles

John Mamadou

Jeff Koffi

John Boucher

Henry Oben

I will make available for your services, a fair percentage of 16,000,000 UK pound sterling that I inherited from my father who regularly made me sodomize goats in my youth, because I feared them, and he felt that this would help me overcome my fear. I am here to tell you, I went from fear to "who's your daaaaaaaaddy". Once I have confirmation from these gentlemen of their interest to let me f*** their goats, I will arrange for you, and those participating, to be paid. You can check out my bank at (alleged website for Bank of Scotland) and I look forward to hearing from you as soon as possible. I am trembling in anticipation of your positive response.

Even Simon Cowell would have had to start to smile at this one.

After I concluded the re-write of Anderson's 'offer', of course I had to insert my own little editorial comment, before forwarding this rather unusual 'offer' on to the 'intended' recipients:

What the f***? Why is this outrageously sick bastard contacting ME on y'all's behalf? Don't reply to ME; if this sorry offer appeals to you, apply directly to HIM! Though, there's money in it for me, if any of you agree to participate.

I received no initial reply from Anderson. BUT...I got two curious responses from John Mamadou and Martin Coles. First, from Mamadou:

what the f*** is wrong with you this is game right?

Coles didn't seem as clear on what it all meant:

why you want pay me to f*** a goat?

I was glad I was not drinking coffee when I read that one.

To Mamadou, I replied with this:

Don't f***ing ask me, Martin; I'm not the one making the offer. Sam Anderson is. But more to the point, just agree, so I can get paid.

That ended any follow-up with Mamadou.

To Coles, I replied:

Weird as it sounds, it sounds like an easy way to make money. So what if a pervert does your goats...you get a piece of 16 million UK pound sterling in return. If you're interested, send Anderson a confirmation, so he can get gratified, and we can get paid.

Incredibly, Coles sent this to both me and Anderson:

call me at 44 702 405 6119 we need discuss

I waited a couple days, and replied thus to Coles and Anderson:

Well? Sam, are you getting your goat? Martin, are we getting paid?

That got me no further contact with Coles.

However, after some time to mull what I'd done to his original email, and how I disseminated it thereafter, I did get one rather tart email from Anderson:

f*** off. U are look for trouble. African mercenaries will arrest you see who laugh then ok

I couldn't resist:

Oh, okay...I see how it is: you ask me to arrange for you to sodomize goats, and now you welsh on my commission, eh? Fine. See if I arrange any more goat trysts for you. And that goes for your goat-poking mercenaries, too.

So there. No more deals for him. He can goat f*** himself ;-)