Words Mean Things...Except To The Illiterate

Sometimes, you re-write a scammer's email, and they aren't able to fathom the re-write.

And that's when the true 'fun' begins.

And so it was a little more than a week ago, when I got a brief email scam pitch from a character calling himself Aton Abtin, representing the Wolseley Group (wolseleytidingsgroups116@hotmail.com), pitching me a 'busnies porportion' (his typing) and requesting an 'medeate respond'.

My re-write went sumpin like this:

Cheese gratings to you. I am Aton Abtin, an infected intestinal polyp from the ass of Dr. Samuel Okoronji. I have a business prostitution to try to put over on you. Kindly don gloves and get back to me via my primate email of wolseleytidingsgroups116@hotmail.com as soon as you can figure out what I writ h'yar.

That went to Aton, and 20 of his peers.

Later that same day, I got the kind of reply from Aton that suggested he didn't read any of what I'd done to his email. Instead, it was a four paragraph pitch that went to the heart of his scam, concerning a proposed partnership over a company in Hong Kong, and a promise to me of 40% of an as-yet unspecified amount of money. The scam itself was nothing new, and I frankly found it uninspired, so I replied in a manner that I thought might catch his attention:

Dear Marie Aton-ette,

fallopian tubes do not work in an old-style TV. That said, galapagos hamster turds did not form the basis of the Easter Island egg hunt. Are your ears turning green? Fuggeddaboudit!

Later that same day, Aton writes back and sends me an 'informations applicate' requesting my name, address, phone #, age and occupation, and a request that I deal 'ethical and honesty with me to concude this our busness'.

I returned the completed application as one of my well-worn characters, Jack N. Ewehoff, and equally useless informations for the rest.

Again, Aton responded, and again, not to what I'd written. But after three emails, he finally noted a tagline on my emails. See, the email address that I use, I added to it a signature of a sort, that goes out with each and every email sent: "blackholes suck".

And it was this that finally caught Aton's limited attention span:

what do you meen by "blackholes suck"???

Simple question that deserved a simple answer:

It is a cosmic and physics fact: a blackhole is an imploded star that sucks the life and matter out of anything within its gravitational pull. Therefore, they "suck". It's only been the conclusion of every email I've sent you. But to business, how does this relate TO our business?

Aton is finally reading -- or his handlers are -- my emails:

is not relate to our busness but the terms was not theres in your first and secord emails. hope you are not try to mock around me? any way if you are not ready for the busness deal we can be friends ok?

WTF???? The wanker wants to be cyber pen pals???? *TOING*

I don't know anyone named mock. Did you contact me to give me the business, or to make friends in a manure foreign to me. Please dilapidate.

I know how to play WTF tennis, but Aton is still figgerin' it out:

i am not to understand your words. can we be friends.

Wasn't that a song by War, which I think I slaughtered the lyrics to in reply:

Why can't we be friends, why can't we be friends, why can't we be friends, why can't we be friennnndddssss...

I've seed you round here for a long long time,

I've gotten sick of all your bitch and whine...

That's why we're not friends, that's why we're not friends, that's why we're not friends, that's why we're not friends...

And I still don't know anyone named mock. You want to get to business or not?

I think I lost him, as will become apparent in the next few email exchanges:

what is meaned here of last messge? i am think you mock around me here.

Who the f*** is mock? What part of this business is he?

you confuse me with words you have. if you no want be frends dont write any more.

Confusing YOU with the words I have??? You're the one who wanted to do business, be friends, and introduced mock in here. Kindly make up your bed as to what the f*** it is you want out of the totalitarity of this multiclusterf***ial exchange. My syntax has a thigh cramp.

you are of not sense to me. dont write more i cant speak.

You want to learn to speak? Sh**, why didn't you say so? I can teach you to sit ... speak ... roll over... play dead ... play fetch ... and shake paws.

I guess Aton didn't want to learn how to do any of that last.

I hope the poor bastard was at least housebroken.