Sunday, July 15, 2018

Who's YO Daddy?

Sometimes I think that Capital One got their ad campaign from scammers.

'Cuz they're ALWAYS after what's in my wallet.

If they only knew how little there was ta git.

Anyway, another day, another Nigerian prince looking for my help:


Good day Sir/Madam,

 This letter might surprise you because we have met neither in person nor by correspondence, but I believe that it takes just one day to meet or  know someone either physically or through correspondence.
>>>>>>>
I got your contact through my personal search, you were revealed as being quite astute in private entrepreneurship, one has no doubt in your ability to handle a financial business transaction.
>>>>>>>
However, I am Prince Philip Y. Williams, the first son of His Royal Majesty Pepple Y. William, the traditional ruler of Bonny province in the Oil rich area of Rivers state in Nigeria. I am making this contact to you in respect of $38,000,000.00 USD (Thirty eight Million united States Dollars), which I inherited from my late father.
  


It went on for several more tortured paragiraffes, but the gist was established.  Another rich Nigerian prince.  That needs my help.

He's got the $38 million, and he needs MY help.

Now it suddenly becomes apparent to me why sometimes, when I write back in the nonsensical way that I do, that gives the scammer on the other end hope.

So I start by feeding that hope...with a turd sandwich:


You Nigerians certainly have your problems.  That much is clear.  


At least this Nigerian isn't totally illiterate:


I am serious with everything I mentioned, my proposal is genuine and
real.  


Uh huh...


I decide to throw in there a little hint of my own dash of antecedent royal blood, just to see how attentive he is:


Yes, Prince, I reckon you wish to come off that way.  You fail miserably,
but I know your intention is there.  It doesn't change my read that things
really suck in Nigeria when a so-called prince is reaching out to British
royalty for help
(Queen Elizabeth II is my 27th cousin, twice removed).


Answer:  he ain't THAT attentive:


Please clarify me, are you interested in my proposal?  


Not sure how exactly I clarify you as you requested.  Is this a self-help
exercise you want help with?  



Dear Brother/friend/daddy,

I am in receipt of your email, and I must start by thanking you for
understanding my present condition as well as accepting my proposal.

I am Prince Philip Y. Williams, the first son of His Royal Majesty
Pepple Y. William, the traditional ruler of Bonny province
in the Oil rich area of Rivers state in Nigeria. I am a dedicated
Christian and a practicing Catholic. I will be 31 years old
by June 10th. 


Again he went on for several more paragiraffes with the same drivel as
before.  What's worse...he's 31 years old, and he called me "daddy".

"Daddy?"
"Daddy".


I remember in Big Jake, one of John Wayne's boys calling him "daddy" didn't wind up so well for the lad.  Granted, I couldn't throw this guy out of his saddle and into a mud puddle, but it did give me an angle to play with:

I'm your "daddy"?  


Yes!  


I realize that you probably haven't heard the Donald Duck routine off that line, and I'm not sure your results reflect mine, but one thing ah knows above all else from round about Wankersville....I ain't yo daddy.  


Sir, I don't understand you.
Are you interested in my proposal?
Awaits your response.  



Well...at least I didn't have to throw HIM in a mud puddle to get a 'sir' out of him.

Cultural appropriation of understanding may be lacking in this case.
What isn't lacking is my knowledge that I'm not yo daddy.  



Thanks very much for your clarification and as from hence forth, I
will stop addressing you as my daddy.
So are you still interested in my proposal?
Awaits your response.  




Finally, you make what amounts to a princely decision.
Now, what's your business?  



Having written me his business twice -- helping as a foreigner to get his money moved from th'yah to h'yah and giving me 25% of absolutely nothing for my efforts -- the prince apparently decided that I was not only NOT his daddy, I wasn't going to be his dupe, either:


Bye Bye!  


Sell Sell!


What do you mean? 


You said "Bye Bye".  I said "Sell Sell".  See what I just did there?


You are idiot.  Bye.  

Too bad you chose so poorly with your scam template category; had you chosen
> to be a member of the British Royal famdamily, we'd of been relatives and
> you might have accomplished something here.>
>
> *BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZER*>
>
> But you chose....poorly.



And then, it just gets weird:


What do you want from me?


The moron contacted me, and after all this nonsense, he actually sends me THAT question?  Eh..as long as he's going to ask, I might as well use my connection to royalty for what little it's worth:


while you're sitting here playing at being Nigerian royalty, I AM from the British Royal family.  So just what the royal F**K did you have in mind, other than a very poorly thought-out scam?  Speak up man, my royal scepter tennis lesson is starting in 15 minutes.

Now I'm convinced that the stale prince from Nigeria is a millennial, because this:


Thanks for making mockery of my predicament.


You pretty well made that yourself with your choice of template, but hey, if you want to give me the credit, I'm down with that.  Any further mockerage you desire, feel free to make contact and I'll crank up the mocking chamber.


The "prince" had nothing further to offer; though my pet rock, Seymour, figures that I just blew a chance for millions....

Somehow...I think not.

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