Rotsa Ruck On This One-San

"CATOOOOO...for to-niiiiight, I am cancelling the attack or-dair!", followed by an off-key trumpet blast.

In the movie, Cato didn't get the word. Nor did his stand-in on this blog.

Another flurry of email scams rained down upon my deliberately-targeted email address, in the past month. Included were an alleged Iraq War veteran with loot from the late Saddam Insane, an ATM card from Nigeria, two dying widows in Africa, a needed-foreigner in the Ivory Coast for an inheritance, a Chinese banker with contractor overcharges to skim, an oft-used job offer from the UK, and...another inheritance scam by an alleged Chinese barrister from a bank in Malaysia, with a Japanese email address.

*TOING*

It was time for email re-writing again. And, of course, I couldn't leave out the runners' up...they were all included in the 'new and improved' email from Barrister Fong Chong (barristerfongchongeconsultant@yahoo.co.jp), as recipients of his intended largess. I didn't want anyone to feel left out, like Sly and the Family Stone(d).

For the 'voice' and 'diction' of Mr. Fong Chong-san, my memory served me well, as I (sorta) channeled the famous French detective from the 1970s, Inspector...Chief Inspector...Jacques Clouseau of the Sharpai, or wherever it was he was from. And, of course, sent from my latest email address for cross-screwing with the online scamming community.

Here's what went back to Bannister Fong and his odious peers:

Attention Prease

I am Bannister Fong Chong, an attorney at raw. I discover your emair and informations through rooking on bathroom warrs in pubric restrooms during my business travers. But that not important now-san. What important now-san is that I assure you that this sounds rike a scam because a rot of activities going on internet. But I assure you that this is rear.

A diseased crient of mine, who herein after be refer to as party of dead part, die because of unknown-rerated condition on 11 January 2010. His condition -- decayed since then -- was due in rarge part to death of rest of party of dead part's famiry. This happen when prane they frying on not go from point A to point B rike it supposed to. It make 'oopsie daisy' in between points, farr down and go 'boom'.

I have contact you to assist in distributing money reft behind by party of dead part before it is decrared uncraimed by the bank where the deposit sit worth Ten Mirrion Six Hundred Thousand US Dorrars. This bank has issue a notice for dead to rise and craim money, or it be confiscated-san.

My proposition to you is to seek consent of you to ret me present you as the next of kin and beneficiary to party of dead part, so that you so totarry rike expect the proceeds of account can be paid to you. Then you can assume you get to keep 40% of this money-san, and I take rest, but that for rater when you find you get f***ed rike three peckered goat in ewe convent. Strange image I know, but some of you identify with goat-san image and for others I digress.

I require you honest cooperate to ret us see this transaction through. This executed under a regitimate arrangement-san that protect you from many breach of the raw, you sabe? I rike how that sound, I say again-san: I require you honest cooperate to ret us see this transaction through. This executed under a regitimate arrangement-san that protect you from many breach of the raw. Sound rike music to ears-san, yes no?

I think necessary now to say to you that if this business offer offend your morar varues, do accept my view that you need new morar varues. Get over it-san. I arso improre to exercise most indurgence to keep this matter secret-san, for purpose of not retting cat out of bag before derivered to restaurant.

Prease contact me at once to express your interest-san. I rike you to acknowredge the receipt of this message soonest at my secretary's emair (I used the address of another scammer, for sh**s and giggles) and treat with absorute secretness and sincerity-san. I rook forward to your quick repry. Arso incrude your direct terephone number when contact to make me have speaks with you.

Cato, the attack order for tonight is rescinded-san.

Of no great surprise, the other alleged Asian scammer didn't bother to repry..reply to this offer; nor did Bannister Fong Chong bother to thank me for enhancing his generous offer to deriver the business with egg rorr. Nor did most of the others. BUT...I did get one, how shall we say...confused response from Barrister Stacy Miller (barr_stacymiller@mygroupuser.com), who was supposed to be the contact for one of the dying widows in Africa:

what is this. have i communicate with you for this?

Oh, goodie. I git to have speaks at least wunst agin. Leaving behind Clouseau and Cato, I have a goat at this one:

Ah, Bannister Stacy Miller! You were the one I really wanted to have speaks with! I am sooo glad you replied! Let me introduce myself: I am Bannister Fong Chong. Just like you, I am a bannister. We bannisters need to stick together. With enough dirty hands using us daily, we can do this. But I digress.

I have a problem. You, my dear bannister Miller -- by mere locality of your business -- have the solution. Please hear me out.

I have a three-peckered goat. It is a freak of nature, but one that I, being a supporter of animal rights, wish to see satisfied. At any rate, the poor goat has been ensconced in a ewe convent for the past year. Talk about frustrated: a three-peckered goat in a ewe convent, where abstinence is absolute, and chastity doesn't blow goats? The goat is so frustrated, he's ready to mount a statue of Idi Amin, late of Uganda, if he knew where to find one. But I digress.

A Dr. Samuel Okoronji (dr.samuelokoronji@yahoo.com) has a herd of embraceable ewes, but won't share. I want you to impose upon him and get him to reconsider. I have an account in Switzerland that will make your efforts most lucrative. It contains USD 10.6 Million in unused thongs from the plus-sized Victoria's Rebushed Secrets catalogue. I'm sure that they have your size in stock. They goat to 5XL.

Can you help my poor goat out? His name is Goat...Goat Ferit.

What say you, Bannister Stacy Miller? We trade wampum?

It took a day, but the reply was not in keeping with further business discussions:

f*** off

With that affirmation in my pocket, I sent an email to all the other scammers, thanking Bannister Stacy Miller for accepting to act as goat-between with Dr. Samuel Okoronji and his embraceable ewes.

But no one wanted to play any more.

Goat figure.

Don't Bank On It

In the March 28, 2011 post, you were introduced to some of the more brilliant of email scammers I've been blessed with lately. One -- Samuel Anderson -- took a very dim view of my re-write of his email scam offer, and the way I turned it around to have him plead with other email scammers, for goats for ol' Sam to sodomize.

Ol' Sam sended me a threat over that 'un. The threat was so convincing and effective, I decided to do it agin ;-)

So when a Dr. Morris Thompson (admin@mobaystores.com), purportedly of the Central Bank of Nigeria, wrote to offer up another effort to give me the business, I decided to tweak the good doctor's offer a baaahd, and return it not only to the good doctor, but to ol' Sam too, as well as another of his ill-humored compatriots, Dr. Samuel Okoronji, who didn't like me making fun of his goat friends, either.

The version posted h'yar has been sanitized just a tad:

CENTRAL F***ABLE GOAT BANK OF NIGERIA

Office of the F***nanical Comptroller

Protocol Departments FCT Abuja, Nigeria

P.M.B. 4324 Abuja

http://www.cbn.org/

Compliment of the season,

I am Dr. Morris Thompson, the Head Protocol, Office of the F***nancial Comptroller Central F***able Goat Bank of Nigeria (CFGBN). I have an urgent secret information which will be of vital help to two men I am asking you to be the goat-between for. I believe in equity and fair play, as I am sure you will see.

The former CFGBN Governor and some of his colleagues which are Bank Executives were assigned with the duty of releasing to two esteemed gentlemen -- Samuel Anderson of the UK, and Dr. Samuel Okoronji, of Ghana -- access to f***able goats which likely accrued from Lottery and/or contract/inheritance. The Governor conspired to divert access to these goats away from Anderson and Okoronji, and to his own secret cabal of goat f***ers. The strategy they employed was totally unethical and unfair. You can just imagine the chagrin of the aforementioned two esteemed gentlemen, at being denied their supply of f***able goats.

Now their f***able goat access is with my department, and I can assist them in making this transgression right. But I need your help, since CFGBN regulations restrict me from direct involvement in the transfer of access to f***able goats.

My department is in possession of the Foreign F***able Goats Deed disc which as soon as it's released to the telex department through the instruction from my office, they will perfect the modalities to make the dreams of Mr. Anderson and Dr. Okoronji come true. It needs only your help to make their dreams of many nights of total f***able goat love come true.

Please contact these two esteemed gentlemen -- I am given to understand that you have email addresses to do so -- and have them contact me at admin@mobaystores.com as quickly as possible, and I'll see to their assured access to this f***able goat herd, with expedience.

Please note: this email communication is confidential, and its not compulsory that you act on their behalf. If you want to torment them by denying them the f***able goat herd that they have wet-dreamed about for all of their lifetime, you can just disregard this email.

Looking forward to your immediate response, for I know that they have been without f***able goats for at least a week now.

While I have little doubt that any of the three recipients of this email were particularly pleased to hear from me -- under yet another new email guise -- only one of them, Dr. Samuel Okoronji, took the time to craft a response. And, wouldn't ya know it, a response with something less than appreciation:

u dont know who u f*** with. u will regret you jest

Dang...I will? Really? Let's see:

You just beat all, y'know? Here this Dr. Morris Thompson wants so much to help you f*** goats, and here you are, threatening the messenger, tasked with helping you f*** goats. I tell ya, good Samaritanism ain't appreciated the way it once wuz. No sireee. But to the crux of your reply, yes, I do know who I f*** with. I forwarded it to you, didn't I? I didn't forward it to your f***ing door knob, did I? Not that you'd know what a door knob is, but I digress. I await with eager anticipation, to learn just how I'll regret this. Personally, I think I'll be happier each and every day, having done all I could to hep ya git gratified, y'know?

The only regret I have is that they all quit corresponding with me. It goats to show you, no good deed goats unpunished...*ducking boos and throwd whatever's handy*

Bottomer Of The Barrel

I was wrong...they can get even dumber.

In my last post, the concluding exchange was with a Jennifer Williams, allegedly dying and wanting me to "do God's work" on her behalf, with non-existent money. My reply -- not one to win me friends within N.O.W. -- received an oblivious-to-what-I-writ response (see previous post).

Being the kind, caring, compassionate sort that I ain't, I sent back what I thought might be a *fog-lifting* reply:

Apparently your brain is already dead and you're on life support, with a wildebeest farting in a tube what's keeping you breathing, 'cuz it's obvious you didn't read vewy well what I writ. If you're going to insist upon dragging down the collective IQ in Muguland to a minus 10,000, fine; otherwise, ye might wanna try reading my last response again.

Now, who knows who read my first reply; it's allegedly from a fly-infested internet cafe in Bumfornication, Ghana. But apparently, my follow-up reply was read by someone who was a bit more 'up' on their comprehension skills, if not on their composing ones.

For another email came yesterday, on behalf of Jennifer Williams, from a Dr. Samuel Okoronji (dr.samuelokoronji@yahoo.com), this directed specifically to "Moosefeddahs" (how my email ID reads on this account). Attached to it was this picture, purportedly of the dying Jennifer Williams...exCEPT...that this is the dozenth or so time I received this same photo under various names and scams, and this one was labeled as Mrs Amanda...*BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZER*.

His photoshopping/labelling skills suck, too.

Anyway, "Dr." Okoronji sends me a meant-to-look official email as exactly replicated below:

Savanna Hospital Ltd PO Box CT 5753 Cantonments, Accra

Location: 32 Amugi Ave., Adabraka Accra, Accra, Ghana

Dear Moosefeddahs

i have just writed you because to tell you that you should be asham of what you did write to my dying client mrs jennifer williams an American citizen married to late Dr. Kofi Williams of Ghana who is suffering from cancer and at the verge of dead. why do you make jest to her in her our that need you as Gods servant to do her good works? i wish to you explain how one who fear God can be so much ungodlike to dying person.

Apologeze now you can still do gods work on her half. on the other hand if you are not interest in the humanitaran work for god or you will not carry out her instuctions when the funds arrive you, do not reply.

Dr. Samuel Okoronji

Chief Medical Doctor

Savanna Hopsital

Since the good "Dr" could apparently read better than his brain-dead client, I thought a simple, from the heart reply would git 'er done:

My inept Dr. Okonumbnuts,

Pardom moi, but if you operate as well as you compose, you haven't had a patient make it out of surgery during your entire career. Including the one you butchered above. But I digress.

An apology? Really? Seriously? You really expect -- after reading my first and second responses to your Play-doh-pus client -- that I would deign to actually write a sincere apology, and proceed with you and your bed blob giving me the business? You crack me up. Really. You should apply to The Onion for a job.

But I'll tell you what...you let me know when your client -- whomever she is, since you can't keep her name straight -- becomes compost, and I will mark the calendar for the 50th anniversary of that date. Lots of things are noted at their 50 year anniversaries, and I reckon that I can remember to think about a faux apology on that inauspicious occasion.

Look for an official apology on that date, in 2061.

Until then, f*** off . Oh...and seriously....a wildebeest anal breathing apparatus? Really?

I musta made Dr. Okonumbnuts, and his fly-infested internet cafe clan mad, 'cuz I got this in reply:

you not chistian. you go to hell.

He's right, of course: I'm not chistian. In the words of Rodney Dangerfield, "I'm notta doorknob either, eh...".

How much dumber can they go? Dare I ask that?