Where NOT To Go For Help With The Future

Some folks simply don't know enough to leave well enough alone when it comes to the future.

Aside from the scammer pictured here, there's another scammer that sought to ask my character for help with her future.  Read it here:


Good day,How are you doing?I hope you are doing great.Please,i need your guidance to save my future. My name is Miss Josephine  Mcmore. I am a United nations refugee in Ghana. I lost my parents in the Mali civil war in 2012 and since then I have been without a family nor guardian.My late fathers name is Ambrose Mcmore,he was a farmer and a Gold Miner  before his death.

 Last week I received a package from my dads lawyer with some documents that reads deposit of Gold and Money as family valuables with a financial institution in Ghana The content of the family valuable deposited on my behalf as the next of kin is 38,000,000.00 U S D and 12Kilos of Gold. When I was going through searching online this morning, I saw your contact  there,so I decided to email you.

 I am rather too young to handle this kind of business and I don't know what to do or how to go about it.

Please can you help me? Can I confide in you? I cant go telling everybody about this and I believe that dads friends will be trusted.If you can be of assistance to me ,i will offer 15% of the money I will most sincerely appreciate your swift positive response.May God touch your heart and use you to bring back happiness and joy in my life, Please write me on my Email: miss.josephine59@yahoo.com
Yours Faithfully.

Miss Josephine   


She appears to have thought twice about it once reading my character's reply:

Save your future?  I can do this.  You see, I am a practicing psychic.  I predicted the war of 1812 in 1612 thanks to Nostradumbass and his quatrains that usually ran 30 plus minutes late.  

 

 

I knew that the American Civil War would be fought over northern abhorrence to -- and Southern pride over -- grits, and I knew this an hour before the first shots were drank.  I knew of the coming crash in 1929 because I'd loosened the brakes on Doc Farump's manure pick up truck. 

 

 

I knew that an alien U-boat would sink the Titanic, causing World War I to break out over a misbehaving app on an exploding Galaxy 7 note pad long before Tony Newman traveled back from the time tunnel and managed to cramp his lines about being born in 1938, when only two episodes later he was 6 in 1941. 

 

 

 I knew that a reality TV business magnate would be elected president in 2016 because the opposing party ran the worst pants suit to ever come down a runway, veer off the concrete and get stuck in the mud with a balky email server that Wikileaks, the Russians, and the kumquats of Uranus were reading while cnn and msnbc were haplessly illiterate on the subject. 

 

 

I knew that Algore didn't invite the internet, save the polar bears and wasn't the subject of Love Story before he claimed to be; I also knew he'd invent man-bear-pig on South Park years later.  I knew the answer to if a sheep is a ram and a donkey an ass, why that made a ram in the ass a goose, long before the question was asked.  I know why "Noel" has an "L" in it. 

And I know the future of this email exchange like the back of my hand I should give you. 

The future?  Oh.....I can tell you about the future, even better than Doc Brown. 

 

 

I knew there weren't no bridges still up even when Oddball thought he'd found a mother beautiful bridge that was there until he found it, and then it wasn't.  See what sending out those negative waves did Moriarty?  I did, long before Moriarity sent 'em.

What aspects of your future are you interested in?  Money?  Love? Career?  Travel?  Painful rectal itch?  An audition on The Gong Show?  You have but to ask...and I have but to prognosticate, which is best done with the lights low in private, where a triciploplotz can't cue on motion it cannot see without its glasses.

 

 

  All has returned to that as it was before.  Many such journeys are possible.  Dealer prep and options extra.

Being a psychic, I already know how I can be of assistance.  And I know if you'll ask thus of me; I won't hold your bed wetting against you, since we won't be in the same bed.   

 

 

Are YOU surprised that Ms Josephine didn't respond? 

 

Neither was I.

 

Gee, maybe I'm psychic after all?

 

*Seymour, your pet rock here:  "PHFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT!!!!"*

 

Now I know I must be psychic; I knew that was coming, too.

It's A Mad Mad Mad Scam

I don't know, but I may have just stumbled into the a current day reincarnate of a 1963 movie version of a mad mad mad mad scammer.

It all started when I received the following email that appeared to be sent by one person, but concluded in the name of another person.  The email was addressed from a Mr. Nobert Stevens, but that ain't who concluded it:

Dear Friend,

I have a discussion with you which will be of benefit to the poor, the sick, orphans, victims of war and natural disaster...

Reply for more details.

Fatima

As you've come to expect from my low-class self, I took no time whatever in editing this brief missive and dispatching it back to sender and 50 plus of his/her/its colleagues:


Sent: Sunday, January 20, 2013 2:21 PM
Subject: DID YOU RECEIVE MY PREVIOUS ENEMA???
Dear Friend,

I wishes to have speaks with you in order to have a discussion with you -- one sometimes follows the other, you unnerstand -- which will be of benefit to the poor, the sick, orphans, victims of war, natural disaster, bad bikini waxes, misplaced catheters and those who learned the hard way to wear a cup in the presence of cats...

This discussion will probably not have anything to do with charity, heart, compassion, and cockleburr enemas.  Well, maybe the latterest of the latter.
Reply for more details.

Fatima


As frequently seems to happen, the email recipient (gawd knows what her colleagues thought) failed to read what I dun to her email; she was just pickled tink that I answered it, as a snippet of her response reveals:

May the good God bless you as you read this mail to hear my cry. I have chosen to carry out this mission just because the Almighty has called me to do so, which the voice of the Almighty is the final in a man’s life. Please join me my friend to carry out the wish of the almighty to help the children of the world.  Right now, I have been diagnosed with Esophageal Cancer, which It has defiled all forms of medical treatment, and I have only about a few months to live, according to medical experts. I have not particularly lived my life so well, as I never really cared for anyone (not even myself) but my business. Though I am very rich, I was never generous, I was always hostile to people and only focused on my business as that was the only thing I cared for not even my family, until I lost them to the war in Iraq. As I am a British orphan who was married to an Iraqi man.  But now I regret all my past mistakes.

 

 

I wonder if one of those regrets was not having obtained a better grammar checker...

So...'Nobert Stevens/Fatima Ahmed' now seeks me to be her great earthly 'soul saver'. 

 

That uncontrollable bout of laughter-tinged coughing was me.

 

So, I donned my "Ben Dover" persona, and sent to her my personal informations and address via which I can be reached.  Which, when she's ready to reach me, will come in the form of her attorney -- remember, she's dyin'  h'yar -- who will have papers for me to obtain in order to execute the attorney's clientele 'last wishes'.

 

 

Of course, my persona -- Ben -- will endeavor to execute Nobert Stevens/Fatima Achmed's last earthly soul-saving instructions with the precision and smooth manure that has marked 'Ben' in all of his dealings with persons from the mad mad mad mad world of scams.  Upendingly.

And naturally, 'Ben' will be ever so mindful of what he's doing to help the transition of a soul needing saved before transition from sh**bird to sh**spirit:

Yup...that'll be Ben, helping to 'upend' Nobert/Fatima.

Of course, this mad mad mad mad scam of theirs won't get very far past the attorney and Ben's initial dealings, since the attorney will want money up front, and Ben will be oh so accommodating in not being so accommodating:

Which will have the effect of making everyone on Nobert/Fatima's side of the ocean an understandably tweaky about how Ben is doing things; Ben will be taking his sweet time about caring out the 'rat killing' of the deal (aka, wiring the attorney the money), and the attorney will be trying to light a fire under Ben to get it done:

And Ben will be extinguishing that fire with all the blissful innocence of two yutzes behind the stick of an out-of-control airplane:

Of course, to assauge their growing butt hurts over progress, Ben will assure them that everything is under control and proceeding in a manure that is inevitable in such situations:

Which should be shortly before Nobert/Fatima and his/her/its attorney finally figure out that their dreams of achieving illicit ends are about to go the way of the wind:

At which point they'll quit communicating with Ben, and probably throw themselves into some kind of appropriate snit over having become the mugu, instead of taking one:

Or, we'll carry on a round-robin conversation that manages to go nowhere for a spell, 'cuz they REALLY want whatever money they can get out of 'Ben'.

So however it plays, you can rest assured that Ben will be in control:

Until out of control is called for. 

If there's an update that goes beyond the already mad mad mad mad nature of this scam...I'll let you know.