They HATE When This Happens



Sad, isn't it?

Equally so, for the scammer that sent my character this email:


With due respect, I observe every protocols and pay all due compliments.I am interested in establishing and operating a very viable business as a means of investment abroad. I do not know too well on how this is done in your country, so I 

will need you to help me in this regard. My prefer is any good profit yielding business and I would appreciate any viable ideas you could come up with. I will also 

 

need you to help me look for properties like homes and lands for sale as I am proposing to invest the sum of Twenty Million United States Dollars ($20,000,000.0USD) 

for this. I do not know if you can handle this and will be of help to me.

For a brief on my personality; my name is Mr.Bishop Speed, a South African based in Turkey Istanbul I am a retired Business man, formally into oil and Gold. I am 62 

years of age, married with a wife and 4 lovely kids.I dropped my Shipping business because it wasn't producing profitable income. I have had so much problems with the 

TURKISH Authority just because I am foreigner I believe. coupled with the corruption rate and recent terrorist activity in the country.Hence my need for this business 

preposition and to acquire these properties is very urgent as I am planning to move out of this country with my family down to your country. I want you to also help in 

finding a good home where my family and I will live in. (Mini Estate)Please I expect your good and prompt reply so that we can proceed swiftly.

I will need your phone and fax numbers for easier communication with you.

Please if you are not interested kindly delete the message.

Waiting your swift response

Warm Regards,

Mr.Bishop Speed 

 

 

Having just watched a Star Trek TOS episode -- my pet rock loves Star Trek TOS -- it occurred to me to have my character work a little of that in.  And a little Star Wars...and a little of whatever else came to mind:

 

 

With a lack of respect that's SOP in this phart of the world, I observe every protocols and usually misinterpret them exceptionally badly.  I am interested in establishing formal diplomatic relations with Aminiar 7, even thought they have been at war with nearby Vendekar for 300 years.  Granted, we here wonder WTF is worth warring over for 300 years, but after seeing the women on Aminiar 7 and the women on Vendekar -- Aminiar 7 got the Melania Trump look-alikes, while Vendekar got all the leftard-looking sea cows like Rosie O'Douchecanoe and Whoopi "Stay Outta My Batcave", along with all the really bad news sources like cnn and ms13nbc  -- it becomes sorta unnerstandable kinda why there's perpetual war there.

Hellary musta lost an election there, too.  I wonder if Russian bots knew where Vendekar was.

I do not know too well on how this is done in your country, because I watch cnn for past solar week and see nothing useful to learn from, so I  will need you to help me in this regard.  My prefer is any good opportunity to have sex with ocelot; I see stuffed version and think it very much like sock puppet badgers on my home planet of Hallucinogen 3, which I had to leave suddenly because some black clad dude wearing a loud CPAP blew it up with a big moon-looking spacecraft that was no moon.

Granted, he got his from his punk kid later, but I digress.

I will also need you to help me look up the word "twat waffle", because I cannot find it in the Random Over Intergalactic Dictionary for the Fainting Hearts.  If I didn't say that right, stew you...I think my spell pecker twerks like yours.

For a brief on my personality; my name is Mr.Bishop Speed, from the left-leaning planet Hallucinogen 3, currently playing a South African based in Turkey Istanbul which was once Constantinople and before that Byzantium and before that a rocky plain near water that dinosaurs crapped on without the benefit of toilet paper.  Don't know how they managed.

I am formally into kinky sex with sock puppet ocelots, I am 62  years of age, married to a Yugo tail pipe and have the genital burn marks to prove it.  I dropped my Shipping business because it wasn't producing profitable income:  when one considers the distance between Hallucinogen 3 and Aminiar 7 -- the Enterprise won't get there for a couple hundred years yet -- it became clear that I wasn't going to get there either, so Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock will have to settle the shit between Aminiar 7 and Vendekar their way.

I have had so much problems with the TURKISH Authority just because I am foreigner with ocelot sock puppet sex fetish and have the breath of genital warts, coupled with the corruption rate and recent terrorist activity that Occutard Antifa is waging on my home planet, it's a wonder if Lena Dunham get anyone interested in her genital void that runs from her ears to south.  Hence my need for this business preposition and to acquire dangling partinipples or whatever those things are that will allow me to move out of this hallucination and into one more like Taylor Swift, even if her t-shirts are fifty dollars and postage stamps are fifty cents. 

I want you to also help in finding a good therapist, because my last one ran screaming from the session when I told him I voted for Trump.

Please I expect your good and prompt reply so that we can proceed swiftly.

 

Please if you are not interested, kindly send this message to any planet you may or may not be in touch with.  Someone will want into this sh*t, I'm sure. 

Waiting your swift response 

Mr.Bishop Speed

mr.bishopspeed@yahoo.co.uk  

"Be vewy vewy quiet...I'm butt boinking stuffed ocewots...ahahahahaha"  

 

The good Bishop of Speed apparently decided that those were the droids he was looking for, too.  And was too embarrassed by his failure, to reply.

And I so looked forward to a dialogue.

"Did NOT!  PHFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT!"

Senegal Western Union Meets Star Wars

Western Union in Senegal sent me an offer they reckoned I couldn't refuse.

They failed to reckon on how I could turn it into something akin to landfill refuse.

Here's their opening ploy:

My name is Madam.Abigail Fola,am a Special Agent at Western Union Dakar Senegal,i sincerely apologize for sending you this sensitive information via e-mail,instead of a certified mail, post-mail, phone or face to face conversation,it's due to the urgent and the important of the security information, Sequel to the Conference we hold yesterday with the Anti-Corruption, Financial Crimes Dakar Senegal investigators, regarding over 11,000 financial frauds we have, of which Your name and Email address is among the victims listed.

I send you this message because the Federal Ministry of Finance Senegal Cooperate with the (IMF)international monetary Fund approved a Funds to compensate the victims listed, If you are interested kindly contact the Western Union Head office Dakar Senegal immediately with your Full Name to enable them affect you the compensation Fund US$2.5 Million, or you come over here in person, contact the head office both on Phone and Email Address to enable them communicate with you financially on how to received your own payment US$2.5 Million,however provide the below details and send to them.

Your Full Name:.....................

Your Country:.......................

Your Direct Phone Number:..........................

Your ID copy:..................................

The Head Office contact:

Email:frederiek.baetsle@telenet.be

Email: xboxkid101@yahoo.com

Telephone: +221-765 911 065

Fax No:+221-338 246 539

Respectfully write them to notify you more information on how to claim your own payment,let them know that you received an urgent letter from me, Madam.Abigail Fola western union money transfer agent Department Senegal because you are among of the victims.

Regard

Madam.Abigail Fola

western union money transfer agent Senegal.

Office Address: Canal 5, Avenue George Pompidou, Dakar, Senegal  

 

 

Alrighty then.  My editing pet rock, Seymour, is taking the day off ("was NOT!!!"), so he left it to me.  For reasons I cannot figger, Star Wars themes kept cherry blossoming in my haid:

 

 

My name is Madam.Abigail Fola, I am a Special Agent at Western Union Dakar Senegal, where it absolutely positively has to get there overnight or it will be eaten by all sorts of sh*t that runs around in the jungles and such hereabouts. 

I would sincerely apologize for sending you this sensitive information via e-mail, instead of a certified mail, post-mail, phone or face to face conversation; it's due to the urgent and not insignificant fact that I'm in Senegal, and you're not.  Lucky bastard.  We are planning to bootleg a sequel to the Star Warts movies that are currently being made, using inflatable droid mock ups of Luke Skyknocker, Pan Solo, Princess Leiyaw, Spitbacca, RU12 and CPoo3Doh. 

 

We dug up Alec Guiness as Oboy Wan Kanoobits, but his state of deterioration was even worse than that of Yoder, so we're seeking a Senegalese prosti..er..substitute.  Dark Vader we has no shortage of; anyone can breathe like Bill the Cat with a bed pan on their head.

Meantime we're conferencing on sh*t like the Anti-Uncle Corruption and Financial Life And Crimes of Hellary Clinton -- soon to be a series on Senegal Reality TV, once we get something like a TV -- as we have over 11,000 financial frauds we have committed or attempted to commit, of which Your name and Email address is being added to the perpetrators listed.  We think we can darkmail you with some of this unseemly sh*t.

 

I send you this message because the Federal Ministry of Finance Senegal Cooperate with the (IMF)international monetary Fund -- co-crooked conspirators in this slimey business -- approved a fauxfund to constipate the local villages hereabouts. If you are interested and not terribly good at comprehending email contents kindly contact the Western Union Head office Dakar Senegal immediately with your Full Name to enable them to infect your pets and special invitation to our pirated Star Warts video showing the aftereffects of painful rectal itch on your oral instremidies, whatever the f**k those are.  

 

Your Full Name:.....................

Your Country:.......................

Your Direct Phone Number:..........................

Your Gender Choice Of The Moment Depending On Who's Bathroom You Want To Violate:.......................

Your Trigger Words That Make You Wet Yourself, Curl Into A Ball And Require You To Have A Safe Space:.......................................

Your ID copy:..................................
 

Your Picture of You Wearing A Bed Pan Talking Like Dark Vader

The Head Office contact:

Email:frederiek.baetsle@telenet.be

Email: xboxkid101@yahoo.com

Telephone: +221-765 911 065

Fax No:+221-338 246 539

Respectfully write them to notify them that you think that they should also make pirated versions of Indiana Smith 'n Jones, Girls Gone Mild videos, and the complete 30 seconds of Hellary Clinton one time f**king up and telling the truth about something.  

 

Regard

Madam.Abigail Fola

western union money transfer agent Senegal.

Office Address: Canal 5, Avenue George Pompidou, Dakar, Senegal

 

frederiek.baetsle@telenet.be

xboxkid101@yahoo.com

 

The Western Union Senegal orifice was not apparently interested in further repartee.  But my pet rock begged me to repost this picture:

He knows how it annoys hellary's stupor volunteers.

 

Scam Wars Meets Colostomy

I'm sure many of you have heard by now that Hollyweird is looking into a seventh installment of Star Wars, and that Harrison Ford, Mark Hamill and (Who But Yoda Can Lift) Carrie Fisher are thinking of signing on.

Eh...if Stallone can prop up Rocky and Rambo with formaldehyde, bondo and loads of make up, why not?

Long as they leave Juju Binks out of the script.

Anyway, I got a scamtest email for something I'd never heard of before, but felt it had to have some use as a future blog post.  It went like this:


Ticket number : (GUI45856CS89)
Ballot number :(BN:6220914657/HBZ-T)

You emerged lucky winner in this year's Arthur Guinness new year draws held
here in the United Kingdom.

Kindly confirm that this email is valid by sending the above ticket and ballot
numbers
to Mr. Andrew Green (

) or call him on +447042064427
for verification and further winning details.If you do not send your
confirmation email to Mr.Green, your winning will not be processed

Congratulation"s

Frank O'Brine
Secretary
Arthur Guinness Foundation.1759　

　
And what, you might ask, could one such as I, do with such an offer? Well...when I saw ‘Guinness’, I added two and two, multiplied by 12, subtracted 11, and came up with an egg roll. Which defies mathematical probabilities, save for the fact that here, there are no probabilities only do or not do, there is no try.


Anyway, I had a *TOING* that had a forceful resonance, and remembering the recent entertainment news, well.....Mwhahaha: I turned to recent headlines from Hollyweird, that’s what:


　
Alec Guinness Foundation
F**k yeah!!! We have exciting news!!!


First there was Han Solo. Then Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia. They've all agreed to take one foot out of the grave to come back and reprise their roles in Star Wars VII: Return Of The Depends Jedi

Now we have MORE exciting news: You emerged lucky winner in this year's "Who Gets To Dig Up Alec Guiness and Yoda to Ask Them To Return For Star Wars VII" draws held here in the United Kingdom.


Yes, we in the UK are some sick, perverse buggers. But we have whacking great fun at it, haggis and kidney pudding aside!   Kindly confirm that this email is valid by replying to this bloody rubbish to Mr. Andrew Green (andrewgreen1759@yahoo.co.uk
) or call him on +447042064427for to tell him what a f**king ghoulish wanker he is for this revolting contest. Personally, some of us feel that Yoda should be left to rest in peace in Muppet Heaven. A green grumpy curmudgeon of a wielder of the Force is not to be trifled with. Your living room furniture might start flying about the room and kicking your sorry ass.

As for Ol' Ben...well, you could use Clint Eastwood..."Go ahead Dark Side...make me day!"...


Well anyway...you won something from the dubious antecedent that sent you this sh*t. Write or call him back and tell him the rest of it. If you do not send your confirmation email to Mr.Green, he won't know what you think of his sorry, fat ass.
Frank O'Brineshrimp
Secretary
Alec Guiness Foundation For The Lightsabering Of Dumbasses

 

It doesn't come as any great surprise that this edit didn't elicit a response from Mr. Green or any of the other recipients.  HOWEVER...I added Mr. Green to a couple-three subsequent mailing lists for receiving subsequent edits of other choice scam emails.  It took about four -- the last one being particularly graphic -- and that finally drew a heated response from Mr. Green (you can tell a heated email response 'cuz it's all in caps:



Subject: STOP ALL THIS YOUR RUBBISH..

IT'S NOT FUNNY, MY FRIEND, IF YOU CAN NOT PROCEED TO CLAIM YOUR PRIZE, STOP SENDING US MEANING LESS MESSAGE AND ALL THIS YOUR RUBBISH, U SEEMS TO BE A JUNK....

Now, I'm not terribly worldly -- for instance, I have no idea what side of the plate chop sticks go on at a formal chinese restaurant -- but I know what a junk is:  (a) stuff in the garage (b) a Chinese sail boat and/or (c) what TSA likes to fondle at the airport.  But instead of respond directly to Mr. Green, and perhaps embarrass him with what I do actually know...I decided to embarrass him as the subject of yet another scam email edit:

Subject: Andrew Green Colostomy Project 

Hello  Friend,

Thank you for your very positive, supportive response. Normally for the purpose of security,

I would have detailed my proposal carefully outlined in an attached PDF file.  But I don't have time for that sh*t, so here it is.

My friend, Andrew Green (email  <andrewgreen1759@yahoo.co.uk>) has, sadly, spent much of his miscreant life with his head firmly up his ass.  So much so, the shape of his colon and anus is now seriously misaligned.  He leaks feces everywhere.

He's embarrassing to be seen in public with.

But since you have shown an interest in stepping up to help, I am seeking primate donations to help Andrew by getting him reconstructive ass surgery; ahead of that -- see what I just did there? -- he will undergo intensive 'head up ass abatement therapy', so that the reconstructive ass surgery will stop this very aberrent, sh*t spewing behavior of his.

You can see how vital your positive response is to this project.

So...if you will undertake to contact and solicit each and every primate you know for funds to achieve this dual purpose, I feel that I am in a position to save a dumbass cretin like Andrew Green from himself and his weird, perverse habits.

After we whip this one, I need to work on his love of sodomizing brillo pads.  One major crisis at a time.

Please send me a reply so that I may forward you how to wire primate donations for Andrew's anal salvation.  And copy him on each one, so he knows how much the internet world knows about his problem and is rallying to his cause.

Or you can just bait the pervert if you want.

Sincerely....well sorta,

Regards

Lei Wang  leiwang203@qq.com

Mr. Green took part of a day before he got around to responding.  Perhaps it was the dozen or so emails I poured into his box after insisting I stop with my 'junk'.  At any rate, he responded thus:


STOP THIS CRAMP!


"Cramp"?

Yeah, I know:  shoulda just let it go.  No one is beyond a typo here and there. 

But that ain't me.  So...not being a doctor or playing one behind the woodpile, I nonetheless tried to be helpful:  "Is your cramp anal, abdominal, or cranial? The first two have over the counter meds available; the last one requires you to stop being a moron to achieve relief".

He won't talk to me now...

Star Bleck?

*Author's note: this was originally run in '06, and thanks to a comparable subject post by a fellow blogger, I'm dredging it up with some 2010 updates. None of which changes the conclusion I reached then, and hold today. More on that herein*

Memories. Sometimes, they come back.

In a Stephen King anthology, there was a short story entitled Sometimes They Come Back. In that case, it was and wasn't a good thing for the fictional lead character of the tale. In my case, trust me: it isn't good. Memories that came back in the early morning hours. Memories that have a paper and audio trail.

When I first wrote this piece, I blamed MissCellania. For the 2010 update, I blame Shrinky.

Well okay, not really in either case. But in '06, the former's most recent Star Trek post -- when read at about 2:20am on Thursday morning -- reminded me of a long time ago, in a very rudimentary basement studio far far away*, and the thrice-conducted exercise in "too much time on their hands they could've been constructive with, but chose not to be" that would/will never be allowed to see the light of entertainment day.
Had it been otherwise, we would have been the William Hungs of our generation. And one of those within a millennium of recorded history is more than enough.

As for 2010, visit Shrinky's blog on her current post (11/14/10), and the rest is easily figgered out.

These photos (among a few others) are of the long-defunct Sickbay Productions, UnInc. recording studio, set up in the basement of one of my then coworker's rented home. Done up in a distinctly sci-fi motif, and using the latest (sort of) in patchwork equipment bought from Radio Shack or begged, borrowed and purchased from gar(b)age sales (back in the late 70s, mind you), my partner in audio crime set up a recording studio.

Whilst he undertook the technical end, I undertook the writing end: three scripts, all with parody as the objective and science fiction as the theme. At the time -- 1979-1982 -- there was no shortage of examples to parody: Star Trek. Battlestar Galactica. Star Wars. We hit all three. It was a time before the "three strikes and out" rule.

Too bad, but only if anyone ever gets their hands on the scripts or, worse, the audios**. More on that in a mo'.

Once a script was done, he and I would undertake to collect and arrange the sound effects, music, etc. All lifted from sources, as much as thrice-removed from the original versions. What we couldn't find, we made up. Badly.

Then, after working a night shift at our primary livelihood (which those of us involved all did at the time), we would gather in the basement studio and spend the better part of a day swilling coffee, noshing on cheap donuts, and recording our parody. We had no editors, save for us. We had no producers, save for us. We had no director, save for us. We were five or six idio..dedicated, committed*** folks, doing the voices for up to 15 parts.

Badly.

We created three audio tapes, plus one outtakes/blooper tape. The total hours spent, per recording, we once estimated at about 60-80 man hours, from start to finish. And if you were to ask "why?", my answer would vary from then to now:

Then: "because it's fun".

Today: "I musta drank a fifth before I pled the Fifth..."

These "things" -- the scripts and audio recordings -- have remained hidden away in my paper archives for the better part of 28-31 years. As I drug them out, triggered by the latest 2006 and 2010 posts on memories, I was quick to remember, in a brief re-read of one of them, why they remain buried in my archives: they suck. Worse than Survivor. Worse than a cosmic black hole. Worse than Keith Olbermann.

Yeah, they're THAT BAD. Truly.

The sound quality is atrocious; at times, the sound effects overwhelm the speaking parts. At other times, we should have been so lucky. Our script reading was about as convincing as being told by a politician that raising our taxes to provide everyone with a socialized porcupine enema is in our collective best interest. The scripts themselves...ewwww. The shortest was 26 typed pages; the longest, 37. What I thought was funny 28-31 years ago, is beyond embarrassing today. For instance, this following exchange between Capt. Quirk and Mr. Snott:

Quirk: Bridge to Engineering...

Snott: Engineerin'...Snott here...

Quirk: Mr. Snott, stand by your warped drive from some possible high speed maneuvers...

Snott: They work much better when ah'm at the controls, Captain...

Quirk: *sigh* You know what I mean, Snotty...

Snott: Aye sir, bu' ah can't be sure the engines will perform as they shoold sir...

Quirk: Again? What this time?

Snott: Well sir, runnin' at warped seven from the XR-1B system ta here critically drained the dysentery crystals, an' rechargin' the matter-don'tmatter pods ain't workin' as it shoold to...we could rupture the nuclear intake reactor valve on the number four coupling junction of the cross cable shunt inversion control circuit, iffen we put it into warped drive too quickly, sir...

Quirk: in all my years of command, it's a wonder we're not dead...

Spark: Logically speaking, that is indeed a wonder, Captain...

Quirk: Mr. Spark, don't you have something...ANYTHING somewhere to be analyzing?

Without waiting for Mr. Spark's answer, 'Nuff said.

Three scripts abominate the screen play history: Star Bleck and the episode entitled Oops; Battlestar Gassitacktica and The Gadoofay Incident; and, of course, Scarred Wars. And three audio tapes, plus the aforementioned blooper tape (the latter of which, in 2010, cannot be found...'prolly 'cuz of the philosophy that "careful what you look for...you might find it", so I ain't).

Thankfully, I don't have the Return of the Mushroom Men script I co-wrote in high school; my then-English teacher has that, and Gawd alone knows why she wanted it. Perhaps to hide it, and conceal the fact she ever knew or attempted to teach me, but I digress.

All of which should go where a few men have gone since the original Star Trek series aired, and Ralph Kramden threatened to send Alice: bang zooom to the moon. 'Cept the Moon ain't far enough away (some schlep Chinese or Russian might find the crap in the next decade). Nor could I, in 2006, afford to pay for the space on the rocket that's sending the original Mr. Scott's ashes into orbit this summer, so they can deservedly burn up in Earth's atmosphere.

Thus, the tapes and scripts will return to my buried archives, wherein I will include a note: upon my demise these "things" are to be cremated with me.

It's bad enough I've admitted to their existence.

Aye, laddie.

* well, only a few miles SE of here...

** actually, when the last casette player has gone the way of cave etchings, we'll be safe from any potential leak of those casettes...

*** or should have been...