Damned Right I Am

u are insensative asshole.

More on that in a moment.

One of my recent emails was another of those 'supposed to tug at the heart strings to open up the wallet strings' kind, from someone claiming to be a Mrs. Joan Pitchell. Here's a piece of her schtick (along with the picture she sent me):

My name is Mrs. Joan Pitchell, I am married to Lt. Colonel Harold Pitchell, A retired Lt. colonel who is dead. When my late husband was alive he deposited the sum of 9 million GBP (Great British Pounds) which were derived from his vast estates with a security company in Malaysia. After some more drivel, she gets to the 'rat killing': My Doctor told me that I have limited days to live due to the cancerous problems I am suffer from. I have decided to donate this fund to you for orphans, destitute, the down-trodden, childrun, and persons who prove to be genuine handicap financially.

She ends this drivel with I would prefer you contact me on my most private and confidential address, since I send this only to you (bullsh**...it was addressed to 'undisclosed recipients').

Her most private and confidential email address is joanpitchell@hotmail.com. Oh...I guess I wasn't supposed to do that, huh? Any more than I should say that the photo she attached to the email is the same one I've received from almost a dozen other scammers who're using the same ploy.

For you regular readers, you can guess what I dun with this. For you new ones, here's what I dun, shared with the originator and 25 plus of her peers:

Dear Befuddled,

I seek your indulgence to solicit for your assistance concerning the content of my mail. My name is Mrs. Joan Pitchell, and I have a giant porcupine that is mysteriously growing out of my vagina. The doctors are astonished, and totally unable to explain this abnormality. Surgically, they can do nothing for me, other than apply treatments of Quill-Away to my vag, to help with the dozens of perforations I get there when I try to walk.

And have sex? Since this happened, the only men I can get near me are hyenas who think I'm in heat, and then they'll only hump my f***ing leg. It's degrading, I tell you.

I need someone...ANYONE...to come up with a cure. If you have one, and it works, I will give you the sum of 9 Million GBP (Great British Pounds) which I stole from a rodent inseminator I was having an illicit affair with some months ago.

NB: I will appreciate your utmost confidentiality in this matter until the task is accomplished, as I don't want anything that will bring unwanted attention to my condition, or why I have to walk in such a peculiar way, to avoid puncturing my asshole to the point -- see what I just did there? -- that I sh** in 200 different directions at once.

I would prefer you contact me on my most private and confidential email address (which I was happy to share with her 25 plus peers, as I was with you readers).

Thanks and hurry the f**k up, this gawddamned vaginal porcupine f***ing hurts,

Dr. Mrs. Joan Pitchell

Now to the 'more on that in a moment': I opened this post with the terse response I got from the alleged Dr. Mrs. Joan Pitchell, a day after dispatching this rewrite to her and her assorted peers.

As no surprise to you regular readers, I was quick to agree with her: Yes, Ma'am, you're right. And I have a sh**storm more of insensitivity for you, if you like.

So far, she hasn't shown any inclination for more of the same. I think she got the point *ducking boos and throwd empty jars of Quill-Away*...