Secret Scamming Man

The scammer clearly didn't think this one through.  Or perhaps he just didn't think it beyond the first firing synapse.

In any event, it was a *FAIL* from the git go.

I think you'll see why as you review his ploy:

DEPARTMENT OF THE TREASURY
Sir,
...
We write to inform you concerning the fax message we received from the
United Nations Group about your Overdue failed payments transfer which
several files were submitted to us for proper verification and
gratification.
This will also interest you to know that your payment file was included
which valued $15.5M only, as we have tried every possible means to contact
with you but it became futile.
Without much procrastination,we would like you to preview us with your
verdict about the failed payment on your won side,though we have got some
clues from the UN as we still reserve that respect to know from you
concerning the upsurge so that we could make that reconciliation
accordingly enable you receive your payment.
Finally,you are herein implore to quickly upon receipt of this mail,get in
touch with us for proper payment direction and formation accordingly as
further procrastination would deprive you of the exercise.
Truly Your's
Dr James A. Bond
DEPARTMENT OF THE TREASURY  


The Dr and middle initial A weren't enough to distract one from the intent of the email; but it was the iconic name that ruined it for the scammer.

Bond...James Bond.

And using that as a springbroad -- 007 fans will know what I just did there -- my pet rock, Seymour, made full use of the ill-chosen name of our scammer in the edit:



DEPARTMENT OF THE PLEURISY

Sir/Ma'am/Gender Neutral Appropriate,

...

I took pen in hand and forgot that Q turned it into a small nuclear device

capable of rearranging Newark in a manure that has been in several of my

movies...so after rehab and a sh*tload of make up, I'm back on a note pad

that Q has not put any gadgetry into yet. I hope.







We write to inform you concerning the fax message we received from the

United Nations Group about the evil empire, SPECTATOR – a small tater in

some venues – that you have overdue barking tickets because your pet cat

with self identity issues has been balancing near a civil defense siren at 3am

and using it as a bullhorn to demonstrate his other dog imitation near the

park.


WTF is up with that please?





You're overdue for proper verification and gratification and I hope you

don't hold all my previous movie liaisons with starlets or the exhaust

pipe of that Yugo in Miami (reference my movie, The Fly That Bugged Me)

against me when we get around to that. But I digress.





This will also interest you to know that your payment file was included

in a McDonalds Happy Meal which was delivered to Kim Jong Un two

weeks ago and sent him off on another one of his rants which ended by

his ordering the execution of the Happy Meal by him eating it. Unfortunately,

he ate your payment file and little figurine of Ronald McDonald doing

something unspeakable to a kumquat at the same time.







He's still mad about that.

 
Without much procrastination, we would like you to preview us with your

verdict about the movie when I save the world from Uranus using a

Q inspired Salad Shooter upgrade and music by Weird Al Yankedhisvic.

My boss O – M retired and became a fan dancer at the Copa CaWTF in

Pahrump, NV – have got some clues from the UN as to what the

definition of frappachinoflatulatoryexpostfacto is, but we still reserve

that respect to know from you concerning the upsurge so that we could

make one without wiping out Broomfield.




Finally, you are herein implored to quickly upon receipt of this mail,

not turn it over some yutz with a pet rock for denigrating editing,

because that bastard does this to us all the time, and it hurts our very

sensitive feelings. What's more – no relation to Roger – further

procrastination would deprive you of the exercise that causes toe

cramps.

Truly. 


I have the honor to be this week,

Dr James A. Bond
DEPARTMENT OF THE PLEURISY

..next week I might be an army genital in Liechtenstein with an offer you can't refuse...

Bond...Dr. A Bond...didn't bother to reply.  I seriously doubt that SPECTATOR will, either.