This scammer was definitely inarticulate; what little that 'she' wrote and sent me was in her email header, and was incomplete. Take a gander (pun intended if you see what I just did there):
God bless you my dear, My name is Mrs. Agata Astor Williams from France and I am very sorry for the attachment, I am a 59 years old woman. I was
And that's where her email ended.
But not any mores, as I gave my pet rock Seymour the day off and applied lyrics to the inarticulate original:
On Thursday, October 29, 2015 11:29 AM, Agata Astor <firstname.lastname@example.org> wrote:
God bless you my dear even if you didn't sneeze just then. My name is Mrs. Agata Astor Williams from France and I am very sorry for the elephant trunk sticking out of my crotch; it was a peculiar event when I was visiting Sea World in San Diego that brought that to be, and when it trumpets it really tests my sphincter and bowel control. I am a 59 years old woman. I was walking down the street one day being pushed and shoved by people trying to beat the clock oh no oh no oh no no, I say...yes I say... that does anyone know what time it is..does anyone really care...if so I can't imagine why...we've all got time enough to suck a platypus.
And my crotch trunk started trumpeting the tune, causing a number of young folks to suddenly demonstrate break dancing skills by trying to remove hubcaps from moving cars.
Now I had a specified reason to write this email when I started, and then the Guess Who came on my camel-operated radio and I have no time for a gentle rain, no time for my watch and chain, no time for revolving doors...what the f**k are they singing about?
Or "well everyone's heard...about the bird...bird bird bird..bird bird's the word..." Color me a WTF "HUH?"
Originally I think I was supposed to be telling you that I'm dying, I was married without kids, my late spouse was killed by an alligator gar on an escalator in Dearborn, and that now I have genital demeaning psoriasis that's spread to my face and armpits, and I have a dubiously antecedent financial deal to lay on you. But Mrs. Brown, she has a lovely daughter...girls that look like her are something rare. But it's sad...she doesn't love me now...she's made it clear enough that she's not a les-bian...
I don't think that's how that song goes but that's what my computer music translator said. Guess I'll have to shoot the translator.
So since I have no really good reason to be writing you, I guess I'll pack this sh*t up and move to a tattoo removal parlour in Burundi and work on my genital origami or needlepoint or some kind of obscure sh*t like that.
Have a nice day and put $2 on Biscuit Humper in the '16 Kentucky Derby.
Writer of "Dear Astor" in the Cladipus Licker,
Jacktroit MI, last looted in '14 and still needing more toilet paper so they can loot again.