Monday, September 29, 2008

Getting Allah's Goat

Yeah, I know: it's okay to diss Christianity, but make the slightest bit of fun of some other ultra-sensitive religions out there, and wha la, burned cars and death threat fatwahs abound. So what's a scambaiter to do, when a scammer throws Allah into the scam mix?
Baaaaaaad Skunk, that's what.
I got me another in a slew of "offers" from Burkina Faso -- a small African country that apparently exports poverty and email scams in copious amounts -- from the latest in a series of Auditing and Accounting managers for the Bank of Africa (BoA), Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso, by the name of Kazim Buba ( With a name like Buba, it has to be good, right?
Anyway, good ol' Kazim Buba contacted me after finding me in the "international directory", and decided I was "of good profession enough to handle a transaction of the magmatude".
You gotta lava that one....*ducking boos and throwd items*.
As is usual, he asked for everything and the kitchen sink in the way of my personal information, to "demonstate my serious to help him" acquire the funds of a deceased patron of his bank branch, to the tune of $18.3 Million USD.
U. R. Phulovit, of Vaduz, Liechtenstein, was ever so happy to comply, though not quite in the manure anticipated; instead of filling out all the required info, U. R. sent back this reply:
If you got my information out of the Rand-Zugspitz International Directumry, then you have all my personal information, right down to my underwear size. I am not inclined to repeat the obvious information again. Now, what exactly is your plan of fleecement?
It became evident that Bubba could sort of follow a script waaay better than he could read:
Phulovit, i appreciate your interest as can be summized from you mail.
He went on in six rambling paragraphs to explain the deal, discuss with me "tust and confident", "legal implements" and "your attorney duty and risponssibilty", that part of which was all explained in caps (apparently in the scammer's hand book, all caps is necessary for stress, attention, or to convey seriousness). And he concluded with the obligatory request that I call him as soon as "posibal" at 00226-782-218-81. And he concluded with "i send you Allah's bless".
*Gag me with a front-end loader*
So I go right to (un)subtle aggressive testing of Bubba's (or his handlers) comprehension skills:
It is gratifying that you put such tust and confident in a person whom you've never met, and whom your mother would warn you about, if you were an attractive high school or college gal, which you obviously ain't. I will assure you that you will find immense obfuscation in dealing with me, and I will work hard to enhance that situation, to one of our satisfaction. Now, I noted you inadvertently sprinkled penile enlargement powder on your keyboard during the Aturkey Responsibilities section; it's obvious you have a real hard-on for aturkeys, Bubba. I just hope you were practicing safe all-caps at the time, since a finger prick can be a real problem in your neck of the woodys.
Now, I'd be happy to call you, but I can't shout that loud, so let's just git 'er done via email, hokey dokey? And I am as pious as the next pastry chef, but quite frankly, F*** your buddy Allan, the maker of all things that go BOOM in public. Now, what do I do next?
U. R. Phulovit
Bubba read and comprehended that load of gibberish as well as the first part, because he sends me an application to send to the Bank of Africa, his Burkina Faso branch, and enjoins me to mantain secretcy and not to dovolge my identify to bank since i work here and is illegal for me to be ingaged in this transaction.
It's a typical application for the transfer of funds as follows:
TEL: 00226-78-85-21-60
FAX: 00226-50-32-72-18
Bubba should follow a written script more often; he can actually spell then. Better still, he should have someone read the replies he gets. But apparently, someone at the bank email addy is a better comprehender of the written woid than Bubba, since this is what I sent back to both the bank and Bubba:
(After throwing in bogus bank information, U. R. concludes on this note):
That didn't get a reply from the bank; apparently, whoever is getting those emails has a better grasp of English than Bubba does. But it appears that they had something of a chat with Bubba, and made in-roads to correcting his dearth of understanding:
Baahh-aad Skunk. Baah-d enough, in fact, that ol' U. R. sends regrets and an offer to make things right:
Dear Bubba,
It is with the most insincere apologies that I respond to your indignation over my application to the bank. Like you, I didn't comprehend all that I read, and I -- like you with goats -- violated your request for secrecy. I will dispatch, at once, an amended application to the bank, and fix everything, but good. See what I just did there?
And I did: I sent an amended application to the bank email, asking them to disregard all references to Kazim Bubba's wanting access to the accounts; he's too busy accessing his supervisor's goats. And he still says "F*** Allen!", 'cuz he got an offer from a cross between an atheist and Jehovah Witness, to go knocking on doors for no reason.
Again, no reply from the bank email people; but I did get this from Bubba:
I dunno...maybe I should leave well enough alone....nahhh:
Oh, I'm sure your fauxgawd Allan doesn't mind you butt-boink goats, since they are evolutionarily sorta kinda somewhat close to virgin camels in Phartyrdumb. But I reckon I ought let all the local folks here know if you're coming, so they can lock up their herds. Better to be locked up than knocked up. Pretty baaaaaaa-d thing, have a bunch of Islamofascist goats born around Vaduz; most of the herders wouldn't have the first idea about their goats, running head-first into things, trying to blow them up. They'd wind up having to send all those Islamb-ogoats to, oh I don't know, maybe Iran? I hear Ahmadinejad is a regular goat butt-boinker, and these he'd get a bang out of. See what I just did there? Nah, you probably don't....send this to your banker buddy, and he'll 'splain it to you.
I'm sure this will surprise you, but that seems to have ended (pun intended) further repartee with Kazim Buba. But (danged puns, anyway)...y'think maybe I should send an email to the Mayor of Vaduz, and tell him to be watchful of their goat herds?
Not a bahhhh-d idea...

Friday, September 26, 2008

PETA At Their Breast

If the photo at the right were a simple multiple choice question: Who gets milked in this photo?, the great majority of us would probably select (a) the four legged one on the left, right?
Yep. But PETA ain't in the great majority. They'd opt for (b) the two-legged one on the right.
As Dave Barry is fond of saying, I am not making this up: PETA wants Ben 'n Jerry's -- the northeastern ice cream et al makers -- to stop using cow's milk in their confectionaries, and replace it with breast milk. Human breast milk.
In PETA's eyes, all this milk we humans pirate from cows has an unfair impact on all those calves; besides, it's abusive to cows to milk them for all they're worth, for the benefit of humans.
And besides, they point out: breast milk is best for humans.
My own first thought on this was, what a bunch of boobs....*TOING*
I haven't yet heard how Ben and Jerry have responded to this, though it's doubtful they'll switch their party registration just yet, though PETA might have them thinking about it for the first time. But let's say, for the sake of making PETA feel like they've finally suggested something that people outside of their tiny universe of drug burn-outs will listen to, that Ben and Jerry take this suggestion to heart, or at least physically close thereabouts. How do they replace the millions of gallons of dairy milk that goes into their operation, with millions of gallons of mother's milk?
I'm almost but not quite red-faced, pondering the options.
And if they manage to completely overhaul their operations to make such a substitution, how many new flavor names of product are likely? Ben 'n Jerry's Mother, Jugs and Speed Ice Cream? Ben 'n Jerry's Bountiful Bosum Frozen Yogurt? Ben 'n Jerry's Morgana's Big Suckle Surprise? Ben 'n Jerry's Dolly Parten's Big Pistachio? Ben 'n Jerry's Melts In Your Mouth and Your Mammogram Lemon Meringue? Ben 'n Jerry's Mouth Buster Parfait? Ben 'n Jerry's Twin Purple Mountains of Majestic Rocky Road? Ben 'n Jerry's Madonna's Carmel Cleavage With A Nip of...Somethin' er other? Ben 'n Jerry's Topless Cherry Ripple? Or a special Ben 'n Jerry's "Are They Real?", specially formulated for a new Ben and Jerry's silly-cone?
Personally, were I Ben or Jerry, I'd be telling PETA where they can put their suggestion; then again, the idea of the collection operation does have it's alluring aspects...
*ducking boos and throwd breast pumps*

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Dear Skunky XVIII -- Goin' Green

Things change.

Many of you never thought you'd hear me say something like this, but...for once, I found a reason to believe AlGore.

Yep. Dear Skunky is going green.

For this episode, anyway.

Dear Skunky has to be the luckiest odiferous critter on the face of the Oith. I won again. Another foreign lotto. Granted, if you read the winning certificate here, you'll see it's awarded by MSN Window Live Awards. However, it's being awarded to me from the United Kingdom. Eh...details, details. Anyway, to argue for it's authenticity, it's being awarded to me by a man of the cloth (pictured above): Rev. Mr. Phillipe Dalakis.

Cut from the same cloth as Rev. Jeremiah Wright I suspect, but I digress.

So here I sit, with yet another 650,000 in British pound sterling, whatever that works out to in 'Merican money. I tell you, this is getting embarrassing: pretty soon, I'm going to be accused of being a greedy, mean-spirited conservative, and the bastards will finally be sorta right. On scam paper, anyway.

But that's not what made me go green.

So I write back to Rev. Phillipe Dalakis (, thanking him for the unexpected largess (I don't do squat with, but that doesn't matter in Scamland), and inquiring how I go about getting what's coming to me.

The good Rev writes back, sending me two attachments (above is one of them), and informing me -- in very eloquent English, for a change, which makes for much easier, if boring, reading -- that I'll shortly be contacted by a "diplomatic courier service" that will require a copy of the two documents he send me, plus my international passport.

Nooooo problemo.

Hang in there, you envirowhackos; my going green is coming up.

A couple days later, I get an email from Mr. Richard Wilson, Dispatch Officer, for SPEED DIPLOMATIC COURIER SERVICE LTD, 18 Friarsgate 1681 Stratford Road Solihull 890 4AG London UK email Tel 44-7024083761. Therein, I am instructed with regards to the instruction given me by the Assistant Coordinator of the Msn and Windows live awards, regarding the claim of my winning prize of GBP 650,000, I hereby furnish you with my complete winning details for onward delivery of my prize/Claim documents.

Then I have to fill out my name, address, DOB, occupation, and telephone numbers (y'all have seen U. R. Phulovit's info enough times that a recap isn't needed here). And, of course, I am to forward to Mr. Wilson my passport, and copies of the two documents Rev Phillipe so carefully crafted for me (out of used toilet paper).

Being the kind of guy I am, and will soon be accused of being anyway, I do as bade.

Two days later, Mr. Wilson of the courier service is back to me with the great news that my winnings have been verified (of course), and that they are ready to ship to me. Now I have to decide how I want them shipped to me, and Mr. Wilson details out the options and related costs to use those options:

Express Class (24 hour delivery): cost of GBP 835.00

Regular Class (48 hour delivery): cost of GBP 650.00

Economy Class (96 hour delivery): cost of GBP 508.00

I have 24 hours to make my selection and notify the courier service of my choice, along with sending the selected fees via Western Union; and so that there be no misunderstanding, have it in mind that our delivery charges can not be deducted from your won prize.

Regardless of which selection I make, the shipment will be airfreighted to an international airport near you, and road transported thereafter to point of delivery.


So there you have it: I "win" money that should go to the downtrodden and les miserables; worse, I fuel "global warming" by the manner of delivery to me of my undeserved largess.

If ever there was a time to feign guilt like progressives demand I should feel, it's now. So I took a page out of Rev AlGore's Book of Climate Hokum (Random Nonsense House Publishers), and offered the courier service a more environmentally-friendly option of delivery:

Dear Speed Diplomatic Courier Company, Mr. Wilson representing,

I notice that all of the aforementioned delivery options have one commonality, and not a good one at that, according to the UN, Al Gore and Leonardo DiCaprio: they are BAD FOR THE ENVIRONMENT.

Having been well-indoctrinated by Rev AlGore of the Perpetually Phulovit Church of the EnvironMentals, I have taken an oath of living green, in not only words, but in deeds. With that clearly stated, I am going to ask you to make delivery to me as follows:

1. Plot as accurately as possible, the GPS coordinates between your location and my location.

2. Calculate upper level winds, gravitational pull, barometric pressure, and azimuth, down to the nearest possible isobar.

3. Load up my payment in a biodegradeable delivery cartridge.

4. Load that biodegradeable delivery cartridge on a giant pneumatic slingshot, aiming it using the aforementioned coordinates so meticulously plotted.

5. Advise me, the Audubon Society, NATO, NASA, and the Russians, when you're going to launch it (I don't want any migratory bird flocks decimated, or NATO/NASA to shoot it down, nor the Russians to think it's an attack on their still-withdrawing troops from Georgia).

6. Launch it after all necessary parties have been advised; I'll have a reinforced net out to catch it.

7. Cost: I believe the biodegradeable delivery cartridge costs GBP 29.95; the saving of the environment and avoidance of accidental migratory bird decimation or nuclear war, is priceless. Everybody wins.

Don't worry: I have used this environmentally-friendly delivery system before, to receive crustacean samples from Gibraltar, Naples and Lisbon. It works quite well, except for one overshot that wound up requiring three months' repair to the Vaduz Theatre of Crustacean Dance. You could say they overlobstered it *ducking boos and throwd cocktail sauce*.

Thanks for your environmental understanding and cooperation.

U. R. Phulovit

I must say, anyone with some semblance of working grey matter that read that, would let it go (the scam, not the cartridge). But someone on the udder end of this one had at least some level of reading (in)comprehension:

Mr. Phulovit, I have read all that you say is well understood of the contents. We cannot do as you ask that sounds strange to us. You must option for one of the three choices we offered you. Please to get back to us soonest within 24 hours.

LMAO....they read all I said and well understood the contents, eh? Oh YEAH? Well, let's try this:

Mr. Wilson,

I must beg to differ, and as one who knows of what he speaks. I have used this environmentally-friendly delivery system in my business here in Vaduz, and with one minor exception, it has worked most efficiently, with zero carbon footprint to the environment. I have had samples sent to me via this method from Naples, Lisbon, and Gibraltar. The only exception was a slight GPS miscalculation on the shipper's part, and the delivery overshot a tad, requiring six months' worth of repair to the Vaduz Animated Crustacean Theatre and Ballet building in downtown Vaduz.

If you care about the environment and want to avoid running afoul of Al Gore, you will use my system of delivery, and without delay. Global Climate Change is in your hands!

That reply, as one will see, doesn't quite clear the cobwebs for Mr. Wilson, but it starts to:

Mr. Phulovit...we have read carefully your reply and understand all that you have said. Are you trying to be funny with us? Clarify at once, we are a serious business here and you must decide now the option you choose from those and only those we give.

I don't think it'll take much more to open some eyes, but what the horsefeathers:

Mr. Speedy Wilson:

WTF? Can't you think and reason outside the box? The delivery option I have given you is tried and true; it works. So don't blame the system if you're no good. And what is up with these negative waves? Oh man, don 't hit me with those negative waves so early in the morning. Think my option will work, and it will work. It's a mother BEAUTIFUL option, and it's going to work. Don't you care about polar bears, antarctic penguin dung beetles, or are you one who WANTS to extend beach front property a hundred miles inland?

It's my way or the highway, bub. Get that GPS programmed and load the cartridge in the launcher NOW. Time's a wastin'. And don't forget to notify me, NATO, NASA, and the Russkies, so's to avoid a little pre-renewal of the post-Cold War by sending something up that posts a quick orbital profile that freaks people out. You'll not help cut down global warming by creating a weather forecast of wide-spread "cloudy and 12,000 degrees", dude.

As I suspected, that one did it:

Mr. Richard Wilson, Dispatch Officer, SPEED DIPLOMATIC COURIER COMPANY


Sadly, I had to agree with Mr. Wilson:

Mr. Wilson and Speed Folks,

You're right, of course: AlGore doesn't know his butt from a hole in the ground about global warming. It was silly of me to waste time and effort to go green on a fraudulent premise. But there is still a method of delivery that will be more environmentally friendly than the one you originally recommended, so this effort to be funny isn't a total waste just yet: take the delivery, and shove it up your a** sideways. Better for all involved, and better for the environment, other than within your immediate proximity. Issue ear plugs to your staff; you're gonna be LOUD and OBNOXIOUS during the insertion phase.

The silence that followed suggests that I'm not going to get my GBP 650,000. And I heard all those *sighs* of disappointment that I'm not really going green.

PUH-LEASE....I'm allegedly a mean-spirited conservative, remember?

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Dear Skunky XVII -- Russian Bride & Waitress

*Disclaimer: if you are a Russian bride scammer(ess), the following will not make you very happy. If you are a scammer of any kind, the following will not make you very happy. If you are reading this for the first time, and are not sure what to expect herein, it is recommended you have no foods or liquids which can reflexively and involuntarily shoot out of your mouth or nose and onto your keyboard or monitor, within ingestible reach. Failure to abide by these simple suggestions, in the event of an occurrence as herein described, will result in you having to pick food particles out of your keyboard and nose, and it wouldn't have been necessary if you'd paid attention to this Disclaimer*
Ah, love is in the air. A love of money. Mine. And I ain't even got that much, but I digress.
This edition of Dear Skunky thought it would be fun to share, in abbreviation, a Russian bride scam. One I'm abbreviating, because it ran 58 emails (29 exchanges); and one that I knowd to be a scam from the git-go, because (a) the opening email was a text book scam template (b) the photo above holding the sign "Hello my Mel!!!" came from a Russian bride scam data base that I frequent upon receiving an opening scam gambit and (c) the photo above holding the sign "Hello my Jack!!!" came from my Russian bride wannabe.
Notice anything about the two photos? Uh huh.
Dear Skunky didn't play this one with some of the word games he's knowd for; Dear Skunky played this one as love-lorn, lonely and romantic-at-heart, Jack N. Ewehoff. Until the end, that is, when Jack became knowd as a demeaning descriptive of an appendage. Which one, I'm sure you'll figger out on your own.
Like most Russian bride scammers, my scammer has a grasp of English; just not a real good one.
With no further adieu, the opening gambit, received in early July:
From: "Hung Boston" (
Subject: Hi my new friend!
I have seen yours profile and it became very intesting to me to read about you (I'd like to read that profile myself, one day, but I digress and whomever goes on). I see that you want to find yours soulmate and I also want this! I think what to write to you now, and really it is very difficult to write to man only knowing him on a picture (that I'd like to see, too, but she goes on), but you the information on you helped me to understand you and that that you want. I the educated girl, a harmonious body; mine tall 5' 6", my weight 119 pounds, I have blond hair! I ask you to write to me on this email: I would like to send you some pictures myself and I shall be pleased to answer you if you write me. Faithfully, Olga By the way you have beautiful eye (ah, I really wish I could see my so-called profile)!
My first reply was short and bland:
Ms Olga, I was most pleasantly surprised by your email, but I am pleased to respond to you at this address you've requested me to use. Yes, by all means, send me some photos of you (so I can compare 'em on the database) as your description sounds very attractive and alluring (before you start *gagging*, I guarantee I'll get more sentimentally mushy as this scam builds toward fiscal climax). I will be interested to see how harmonious you are, and how we can harmoniously meld the melody here (I couldn't resist at least one smart-ass comment early on).
Looking forward to your reply, Jack.
Her response letter was textbook early form letter, with a brief description of her, her life, her desire for marriage and children somewhere other than in Russia, how Russian men are "rude and always to drunk too much" (her command of English is dubious, and at times downright almost as hard to read as at an inner-city school in Los Angeles), and that she hopes that I am "my dream man for life yes?" (she just made a couple of my ex-gal pals barf with that 'un, but I digress again). The attached photo she started with -- a rather attractive, blue-eyed blonde posing behind a flower vase -- was compared to the Russian scamstress database (containing more than 4,000 entries), and wha la....I found the exact same photo of the same woman, named Katya, who was also holding the sign to "Mel" (pictured above).
*Buzzer* Game on.
The game was played slowly, as I told her about Jack's life as a tool designer for a farm implement manufacturer in NE Iowa, about being an only child with no living relatives now, and as a 35 year old bachelor with no current girl friend since I wouldn't date where I worked (about the only true thing I said to fuel this bait along). Olga's letters became slowly more passionate, more interested in "Jack", and more suggestive that Olga's dream was to come to America and start a new life, even though she'd miss her close-knit family of two parents, a brother, a sister, and two pet cats, Ork and Voda.
"Ork and Voda"...*snicker laugh titter ROAR*.
Gradually -- by early August -- Jack was writing letters to Olga that suggested he was "hooked" on her, with verbiage such as: My darling Olga, you are my daily sunshine, my nightly harvest moon, and the star that lights my heart on it's journey to forever happiness with the love of my life.
Yeah, that line will make some of my readers spew coffee, but Olga -- or whoever she/he/it really was, and counting on me being hooked for the next and crucial stage of this scam -- professed to eat it up, thinking that the scam was proceeding nicely:
my only love Jack, you words to me tingle along to my heart, I feel passion to rise when you writ these words to me, I want strongly to love to make love yes to you, my Jack!
Finally, Olga gets to where she needs to travel from her town Kazan, to Moscow, from where she will fly to our new life together, once she works out the travel details with a travel agency. And she professes up to this point Jack will never ask of money from you to make travel please believe me sincerity is yes to this? Yeah, what she said.
Of course, that changes once she reaches Moscow, and gets a room with a 70 year old widow (Olga's about the 10th bride scammer who follows this template), whose maternal instincts warn me to be care of you until we met and know our love truly to be real. And she'll get back to me in a day or so with details from the travel agency.
As always, the travel agency details are sparse, but come with this closing flourish:
my Jack, I am hope you disapointed not that money is at issue, but travel to Moscow take most of mine all that I have. I can ask not more from my parents they give all they afford to can, and the agency tells me I will need $2,000 USD to make arrangements to come to you. Will this okay be?
But of course:
my darling Olga, let not the money concern you. To have you here by my side, to know that my future is secure with your love to guide me all the rest of my days and nights, this little amount of $2,000 is no problem for me at all! I would spend $10,000 to have your harmonious body next to mine! Tell me how I am to send it, and it is yours, my soon-to-be last love in life!
Okay, y'all can have a minute to recover from whatever reaction that line reflexibly triggered within ya (remember the *Disclaimer*) ... okay, recovered? Good. 'Cuz now it's time to start the messin'....
Before Olga can tell me how to send her the money, I take the photo noted above (the "Hello my Mel" one), send it to her, and ask this:
My love, I wish always to believe in you, and trust you. But I have just received, via an anonymous email, a photo of you holding a sign, to someone named "Mel". And the email says that your real name is Katya, and you do not really mean to come to America. What do you know of this?
Sometimes, this email spells the end of the correspondence, as the scammer knows the game is up; but not with good ol' Olga and his/her handlers. Not when a handy Photoshop program can allegedly save the game (in their minds). I get this note back from Olga, along with the "Hello my Jack!!!" photo above:
My forever love Jack, I do not understand happens and I do not know who to you send what that letter. I have photos on site in Russia and consequent some of them taken by hooligans stolen from me. it is paradox to real that hooligans learn you and me and they try wreck us this way. I the strong girl and to take things to end of road, my only Jack! I think that now youtrust me after this picture yes? I prove that to you I am real! Only yours, Olga
I decide to let Olga briefly believe that she's saved the game:
Darling, yes, I tend to agree that only hooligans would do something like this to disrupt our plans for a future together, and try to sow in my mind that you are not trustworthy. Your response convinces me of this, without a doubt. With love, Jack
Olga then sends me the obligatory Western Union information I need to send her the $2,000, and finishes with this flourish:
my Jack, my only Jack, our love is precious, yes? Now send so I can come to love you all days of my rest in life, and have your love for mine only alone! No to say to hooligans! Yours only, Olga
"Jack" waits a couple of days, and then pees in Olga's borscht:
My former dearest, cherished Olga,
I am terribly sorry about this, for I know that you work hard to erase the doubt from the hooligans, and I know that I do trust your efforts were as sincere as this whole effort has been. But it is simply not fair that I not show you the same level of honesty that you have shown me all along. So I must confess now. I have met someone else, Olga. Someone else from Russia. Maryna is her name. She is over here on a six-month travel visa, and we fell in love at first meeting. As beautiful as your pictures are, in real life, Maryna is stunningly breathtaking, as the attached photo will tell you (it's a picture of an American porn star, used by other Russian scammers to dupe others; two can play ze game, yes?) and is truly my soulmate. It is her that I will marry, and love and cherish for life. Not you.
That has also, in the past, been the end of it. But not just yet with a now faux-anguished Olga:
My only Jack!!! What write to me is this you say? Who is this picture of lady wearing no cover on breasts (I do love her grasp of English) ??? You say to me you love her more? Is this joke? My Jack, please no not to do me to this!! I will come to be yours only forever! Please!
So I send an amusingly persistent Olga this reply:
Email Title: Consolation Prize
Dearest runner-up Olga/Katya,
My bride-to-be, Maryna -- and yes, she does have a healthy chest that she is most proud of, as that photo suggests -- has graciously heard the whole story about you. And with just as much grace as is her wont, Maryna has asked me to invite you to our wedding in October, here in Waterloo, Iowa. While she is very happy to be standing where you were supposed to be, she does feel a bit of guilt over having supplanted you as the love of my life. So she -- in a conciliatory step that I think is as magnanimous as conciliatory steps come -- has extended to you an olive branch, and wants you to share in our day of happiness, by being a flower girl in the wedding party, and then serving refreshments at the reception. We've even picked out a very scanty french maid's outfit for you to wear; we reckon it'll provide eye candy for our male friends, and will probably get you as many hits as a $200-a-night Las Vegas hooker.
Please don't hesitate to RSVP, Olga! We need to make sure the french maid skirt and panties are revealing enough to get 'er done.
My thanks in advance for your anticipated acceptance.
I got back one last email from Olga's email address, but I couldn't read it: it was in the computer's version of, I think, Cyrillic script, and was about one sentence in length. Any guesses as to what it might have said?
;-) Yeah, I would tend to agree with your collective assessments...

Monday, September 15, 2008

If The Suit Fits

*Disclaimer: eating any food item(s) with particles small enough to involuntarily traverse the sinus passages to land on one's keyboard/monitor, when an unfamiliar/made-up word/phrase is unexpectedly encountered, should be avoided. Ditto for beverages*
My friend at the Denver Better Business Bureau received yet another solicitation that she was sure suited me to a tee. It would prove to be even dressier.
It begins with a solicitation from an officious-sounding gent of dubious antecedence, James David Mark, a member of something officious-sounding, Lloyd's Chambers, Portsoken Street, BT1 8BN, Belfast, Nothern Ireland (he never does spell it right, either), with the officious-sounding email addy of The gist of it is, in his own woids:
I am in search of a profitable real estate or telecommunications investment business in your Country and I would be glad if you can assist me in any way possible (ie., give me your wallet and bend over).
As usual, he learned of me through "online reliable assets" and felt I was "adequate to the demands of the transaction". Eloquent bastard, at least in the opening salvo.
So earthy, urbane, erudite and worldly U. R. Phulovit, is tagged to make the response:
Just WTF is this all about now? Granted, I am most adept at making myself rise to the demands of transactions that seek to give me the business; so I am not anathema to your effort. Perhaps you'll indulge my curiosity here with a further explanation of just WTF you have in mind.
Eloquent though he was -- and for now, remains -- James David Mark, or Mark David James, or David James Mark, as he alternately responds as, is not quite as adept at reading and grasping all of that which is writ to him. For instance, in response to my reply, I get this:
I am happy to note that you are genuinely interested in helping me execute my investment project in your Country (laddie, I'm genuinely interested in executing anything involving you in ANY country, but I digress and he goes on). I have family assets totalling $3.2 million USD that I seek to aggressively invest in your Country, and I eagerly anticipate your detailed investment proposal on how these funds will be proactively utilized, so we can recognize profits after a just period of investment in your Country.
As I told you...eloquent. He's got a good script writer, so far. Just not a good script reader or researcher, as my next reply will prove out:
Sir, I am happy to provide you with that which you endeavor to find, and thensome. Let me firm up your confidence and trust in myself as a worthy partner to give the business to, by affirming that I am exceptionally savvy in the realm of financial perpiscasity (whatever I just said and misspelled there), and I have wide and comprehensive knowledge of financial markets and opportunities hereabouts. As a research analyst for the International Crustacean Obedience Training Institute in Vaduz, Liechtenstein, I am poised on the cusp of cutting-edge technology and trends, and can't wait to give you what you have coming. As a further measure of my commitment to deliver you just that, I provide you with a copy of my international passport (I imagine Pat Paulsen is snickering in that dead-pan manner of his from the grave), and I shall endeavor to commence a thorough plan for the execution of your proposal, in little to no time at all.
This reply goes unanswered for a week, and for a brief moment, I reckon I underestimated Mr. Mark David James (or flip-flop the whole thing, as he does) and his comprehension ability. Then he finally responds, and dismisses that notion:
I wish to confirm receipt of your mail and the content was noted well. Sorry I have not written you all this while, I have been doing end business in Turkey (is this something you really want to make claim to...admitting you like to butt-foul fowl?). I am returning to England fulfilled here (what a pervert) and will advise you soonest on the next things to be done.
I hope having a cigarette isn't one of them, since I don't indulge. At any rate, "upon his return to England", James David Mark (or flip-flop the whole thing, as he does) sends me a page and a half document he refers to as our "Basis of Agreement" which dictates what and how we are to proceed, and providing the "legal bindings attendance therein", and asks me to study it and agree to the contents, before planning my trip to England, to finalize the deal.
I decide that a further test of his comprehension -- in view of his eloquence and sexual perversion -- is warranted, and after a couple days, respond thus:
Sir, I have completed a comprehensive and thorough study of the "Basis of Agreement" you have sent me, and find that, with one exception, there is nothing therein that I find objectionable. What I do find objectionable -- and will expect you to expunge, or take care of yourself, what with your earlier stated sexual prediliction in this regard -- is the part that I am expected to sodomize turkeys, as you recently satisfied yourself doing. That's just too wrong for me. I suggest you do your own anal turkey stuffing, and leave the investment planning to me.
So far, his reading comprehension is bad:
I wish to update you with the new development in this transaction. I had a meeting with my account manger (oops, are we deviating a bit from the eloquence script?)
and it wont be necessary for you to come to England, but the fund will be transferred to Canada, and once consummated there, will require you to travel there to sign relevent documents. I need a confirmaton from you before this step is initiation (uh, yup...deviance has set in; I 'spect it started with the turkey).
Let's see if my throwing a snit about the change of venue catches his comprehension radar at all:
What? CANADA? WTF, hoser! That's in North America! Take a map of the world, sir. I live in Liechtenstein. It's between Switzerland, Italy, Austria and Germany. To my east is a wasteland of French and Islamofascists, and then the whole frigging Atlantic Ocean! At least I could get to England without that much trouble! I must tell you that this definitely throws a monkey in the pumps, and most monkeys don't walk all that well in any kind of heels.
Even with that, David Mark James (or flip-flopped, as heretofore noted), notes only the seminal issue here, and is quick to compromise:
I wish not to unduly inconvenience you, my partner. After a further discussion with my account manger (at least he's consistent) it is decided that a bank in Spain can be used for the funds transfer. This will be easier for you, yes? Please acknowledge, and we shall then arrange for your contact with the bank in Madrid.
We shall indeed:
Sir, having this business arranged in Spain where I can arrive by plane or train, is splendiferous, shine or rain. Your magnanimousness is truly faciliatory to the overall objective of executing your plan in a manure entirely satisfactory. I shall await the name and address of your bank of choice in Madrid, whereupon my travel arrangements will be prepared. that I seem to have located my partner's Achilles tendency -- to not comprehend all of what I send him -- it's time to start getting revenge for that poor turkey. I start with completely ignoring his email about some bank in Madrid I am to email, and an improbably-named Spaniard, Ahmed Khammad, my "contact" therein.
After three days, I get this:
How are you doing today my partner? What is really going on? I have sent you email on bank informations yet no response from you, please let me know what is goings on?
Further erosion of the eloquence of old. My response:
All is well and as one widda woild here. Things are progressing slowly, but quality is preferred over quantity, don't you agree, maestro?
A day, later, Mark David James (you know the rest) is a bit restive:
I am not understanding your reply. The bank has heard not from you and time is not on our side (it would be if you had a pocket watch). Get in touch with bank today and follow up with me soonest.
Another day suffices, and I throw him this:
Sir, we seem to have found a turd in the spagetti: I have emailed the bank as directed, and I have heard no response. Frankly, I am concerned about a Spanish bank and an Islamofascist contact therein. This just doesn't sound to me suited to our purposes of execution. In fact, the non-response of your bank has led me to contact another bank, Joseph A Bank, who has a helluva good deal on suits and ties right now. 40% off. And there, they won't ruin a good suit with a satchel charge hidden underneath. How's about some stylin' and profilin'?
Early that afternoon, James David Mark (see above) sends back a reply that suggests some of the scales are starting to fall from the less-eloquent eyes:
I am not understanding what you have said . i gave you expicit instruction on what to do and how to contact and you havent done the instructed thing . what bank is this you talk of with suits off? Please to contact security firm (uh, bubi, it was a BANK, remember?) and follow your instructs now. i have put trust in you and this is not right of you . Do as you are said.
Now that the scales are falling (and the eloquence is plummeting), let's work some more on executing his plan:
David Mark James Chapman, what are you talking about? 40% off is the BOMB, dude! And sh**, they've included dress shirts and pants, too! Screw your bank...this one is ROCKIN'! I vote we spend your whole family fortune here, and I won't have to worry about work or formal attire for the next 10 years! Tell Achmed or whatever his stupid Islamofascist name was, to go sit on a vacuum and blow himself! If we deal, we use MY bank, not YOURS.
Think about wanna be a fragment from a suicide bomb, or a chick magnet on the European jetset? No comparison in my book, laddie.
This sends James Mark ChappedAss David (see above) over the edge:
Wow. I think I upset him. Let's make sure of it:
ChappedAss, does this mean you're not gonna buy me any discounted suits and stuff? Horsefeathers...I so wanted to be a chick magnet. Oh well...enjoy blowing yourself into fragments while you butt-bone turkeys.
Sadly, that was the last I heard from James David Mark (see above). Oh well...I'm a jeans and polo shirt kinda guy, anyway.

Friday, September 12, 2008

Politics, Skunk Style

*originally published in 2004, pre-November election; updated 9-8-08*

A fellow blogger recently and good-naturedly chided me for my decidely 'conservative' leanings. After a bit of good-natured kidding back and forth, I decided to follow the advice of a local radio talkshow host who often says that "before you tell where you sit, you should tell where you stand", or words to that effect. So, here's from whenst the ol' Skunk cometh (and makes no apologies for):

I am registered unaffiliated. The only party affiliation I've had since 1999 is a parody: the National Barking Spider Resurgence Party, a parody party I ran as a parody candidate for President of (in '00, '04, but didn't continue in '08, out of boredom widdit).

My family history is at least four generations Republican: my great grandfather was appointed to the Commerce Department by then-President Calvin Coolidge; he was retained by President Hoover. Of no great surprise, he was fired after the inauguration of FDR. Up to then, he had little to do with or good to say about Democrats; thereafter, he had even less.

It didn't matter that this is the way the game was and is still played. Not to him.

My grandfather was a columnist and poet for, at one time, the Des Moines (IA) Register; during the second FDR administration, he wrote a couple columns critical of FDR's 'New Deal'; he was fired for his opinions. Doesn't take a rocket scientist to grasp where he stood on Democrats after that.

We can debate which party covertly supports political "censorship" another time.

My parents were very active in the state Republican Party in Iowa, leading up to and through the 1968 election cycle. While proud of seeing many of the state offices in Iowa filled by Republicans in '68, they would later be mortified by Nixon and Watergate.

As for me, I grew up Republican; until the very early 1990s, I was so-registered. I was and remain proud, to have voted for Ronald Reagan. In '92, I briefly switched to Democrat registration (they had a much more interesting primary then; I voted for Tsongas). In an eleventh hour decision at crunch time -- in the voting booth in November '92 -- I crossed both fingers, bit my lip, closed my eyes, and voted for...Bill Clinton. Then, I bought the "change" bill of goods from a "new Democrat". Less than 11 months later, I was as mortified with the lie I'd fallen for, as my parents had been in '74.

Despite the current crop of what I call party-leading "Democraps", I do not hold that all Democrats are bad; I thought the Scoop Jackson/Sam Nunn/Zell Miller brand of 'fire and brimstone' Democrat was a respectable power that didn't sell out national defense in order to please the Daily Kos/ wing of their party. I can't stomach or say much good about the Howard Dean/Nancy Pelosi/Harry Reid/Michael Moore/Hollywood branch of the Democraps of today.

I returned to Republican Party affiliation until '99, when I decided to experiment, and listed myself as unaffiliated. It worked: I started getting attention from both parties as a 'swing' voter. And I was hardly a 'swinger' (just ask my ex-fiancee, but I digress).

Philosophically however, I remain more conservative than not: I'm for smaller, less intrusive government, lower taxes, capital punishment, national defense, immigration reform, the war on terror, self-responsibility and self-accountability. I think school vouchers are a viable option in today's faltering, bureaucracy-heavy public school system. I'd like to see more welfare reform, not less; building a dependent class isn't my idea of helping anyone but liberal bureaucrats (aka, tits on a boar) who don't want to have to work for a living.

I am, however, not what other conservatives would call staunch: I don't support an all-out ban on abortion (just irresponsible and gratuitous ones at taxpayers' expense); I don't support mandating prayer in schools (nor do I support banning all forms/mentions of Christian religion, either), or a flag burning amendment to the US Constitution (free speech is not only supposed to be protected; allowing a moron to show the world he/she is a moron by burning a US flag should be allowed, so we are cognizant of the morons in our midst). I don't consider the Bill of Rights something to be gratuitously laden with a lot of added fluff that is already constitutionally addressed (which is occasionally forgotten by some activist judges). And while I approve of the legal right to keep and bear arms by law-abiding citizens -- recently affirmed by the US Supreme Court -- I condemn the NRA when it comes to allowing the sale to the public of assault rifles and armor-piercing ammo; I was a police reserve officer when this controversy was hot, and was furious with the NRA over their thoughtless stance of negating my body armor to win a political argument.
I have no problem admitting to occasional enlightened self-interest ;-)

Now a word about our current president: I wasn't wild about Dubya in '00; I felt the media talked him up because they felt he would be easy meat for Gore at election time (look at media coverage of Dubya pre-primaries in '99-early '00). But I was less wild about the ever-changing face of AlGore. I remained cautious of Dubya until he became President Bush in my eyes in the wake of September 11, 2001; wherever else he may have fallen short since (on the immigration debate, among other things), I've supported a president who had the courage to say what made the appeasers and the apologists apoplectic, and has thus far stood by those words. Granted, not everything has gone well in the war on terror. Not everything goes well in war, period. Even during the "instant gratification" Gulf War I, things went wrong (like incidents of friendly fire). War's a messy business, and not one to be taken lightly.

And yes, I speak as one who has only read of war, and not wallowed in the mud, staring death and destruction in the face. Thanks to the men and women who have on our behalf, I had the option not to. I owe them a debt of gratitude that can never be paid in full. We all do, and always will. Those who call our military "baby killers" and demean them, are contemptible trash, and nothing else in my book. Willie Nelson's heros have always been cowboys; mine were, are, and remain the US Military, police and firefighters.
Top that, Daily Kos. *Buzzzzzzzzzzzer* lose.

Yet, all I hear from his opponents are attacks -- largely void of fact and heavy with hypocrisy that is easily proven from public statements by these same liberal champions of the previous administration -- with no viable, credible alternatives offered up. None. Zip. Nada.
In 2004, John Kerry spoke of fighting a "smarter" war, but offered not one credible suggestion of how he would do that. 'Cuz he didn't have a clue how such would be done, let alone mean what he said. Except when he talked cut and run. THAT, he meant.
As for Obama in 2008, he talks vacuously about defending America, but always comes back to cutting and running in Iraq; moreover, he won't say or accept that "the surge" in Iraq worked and makes the possibility of starting a troop drawdown soon more viable and safe. He also continues to offer "dialogue" to demonstrated enemies of this country and allies like Israel, "without preconditions". Such indirect "giving aid and comfort to the enemy" by his anti-war stance is not the kind of thing that engenders in me a trust of him as my president, when it comes to defending our shores and our interests.
In this -- and other matters -- Obama is "no Jack Kennedy". There, and on so much more of his ultra-liberal voting record on a cornucopia of things, from business to taxes, Obama leaves me unable to support him.

And yes, I've already heard that if I don't support Obama, I'm racist. That abysmally void-of-intellect statement -- coming largely from the ignorance-based, ill-educated Leftist school of Race-baiting and Intimidation -- tells me all about liberalism in today's Democratic Party that I need to know, so far as casting a vote for them goes.

Back to the war issue for a moment. My thoughts on cut and run are simple: it's appeasement. And what does appeasement beget? For Neville Chamberlain and Eduard Daladier, it beget the Munich Accord for Adolph Hitler. And it guaranteed the onset of the very thing Chamberlain and Daladier sought to avoid, by selling out a valiant ally for their own self-interests: World War II. If 50 million dead world-wide doesn't convince you about the abysmal failure of appeasement, then nothing ever will. If you really think you can appease Al Qaida, their brethren in Hamas and Hezbollah, or their benefactors in Iran and Syria, by cutting and running, or selling out're every bit as blissfully ignorant and shortsighted -- if not downright stupid -- as Chamberlain and Daladier were at a critical time in European and world history. And you will guarantee more human suffering, and millions more dead civilians, including Americans, in the times to come.

Human history has a helluva track record, for anyone who cares to educate themselves on human primal urges, and where the weaker have been gobbled up by the stronger. Now, I'm all for universal peace and enlightenment: and when the lowest common denominator in human primal urges is supplanted by the wisdom of the ages, causing that wisdom to be world-wide and truly universal, then I'll feel comfortable in spending not a penny more on defense. But until there are no Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot or Saddam Hussein wannabes, and until there are no more Osama bin Ladens, Ahmadineijads, Kim Il Sungs, and Vladimir Putins et al, we are so NOT there, kids. As long as there are bullies, one can be a sheep for bullies to feed on, or a pillar of strength that bullies won't test. Like it or not, no matter how corny you find the following, freedom isn't free. American history should be, in and of itself, enough to prove that, if world history is too much for you to digest.

At the same time, I don't give a pass to some folks on the far Right (beyond the Christian Right): there's plenty enough blind stupidity, hatred, and useless hardheadedness on that side of the aisle, too.

So it is left to us -- the greater mass in the Middle -- to use reason, common sense, and rational give-and-take, to try to find answers to the questions that neither the far Left nor the far Right will seek to find common ground on. God help us the day that the great majority between the Right and Left leave one or the other to do all our speaking, thinking and legislating. That day will mark the end of our constitutional republic, and the end of the freedoms we've come to cherish so.

So there you have it. If you had any question as to from where the Skunk is coming from, consider them somewhat answered now. As for the just-completed DNC and RNC conventions, two things are clear: the RNC had better food (celery sticks vs beer-batter fried walleye? You lose, DNC, and in the eyes of many of your own). And my vote is now set: I'm voting for Paris Hilton; not only is her energy plan a good balance, but she's hot.
Okay, I heard that chorus of *oinks* out there, and I'm probably kidding here about voting for Paris, even if I wasn't kidding that she's hot (physically).

At any rate, despite how ol' Skunk sees things, my blog pal might still put up with me, anyway (at least she has since '04, even knowing that she's a Hillary supporter and I ain't).
I'm me, and I approve this post.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Upstooging A Scammer -- III

Okay, so "Curly" has sent both the lawyer and Gbenga the Western Union information in the early hours of September 1. Before any of this is acknowledged, however, I get this rather inexplicable email from Gbenga:

Your lawyer refused to come to Benin City not until our conservations through the phone. I told him he should come and let me show him some form and give him some key word that he will use in the meeting date, which is promise to come maybe tonight if the payment is made. He wants assurance he travel five hours to Benin City for not nothing of a journey.

Now Curly decides to drag a little Wizard of Oz into the proceedings:

I am not understanding. I pay the aturkey that you recommend so highly to me the money he demands, and how he doesn't want to come to the Benin City? All he has to do is follow the yellow prick road. Follow the yellow prick road. Follow the yellow prick road. Follow follow follow follow follow the yellow prick road. Follow it to the Benin City, where he will meets with the great Wizard of Odds, who can make all things come to pass. He can even raise me from the dead. Tell him to seek out the great Wizard of Odds. But he must be careful on the yellow prick road: the Wicked Witch of the Highlands, her and her flying monkeys with terrible gas, and her carnivorous apple trees, with which she is capable of making such mischief with. Bitch. Tell him I have wired his money through the greatest of difficulties, and he must embark at once. The Wizard of Odds waits for no man, Jablonski. I'm pushing on to the Rhine (I couldn't resist inserting a line from Kelley's Heroes, knowing full well it'll go nyahhhhh right over these two dolts). Tell him to be off!

A full day passes, and then I get this from the slowly-awakening Oh Henry:

Are you into some kind of joke or game with me? I am already in Benin City to represent you and no paymet has been met. I asked for the teller of the money transfer and you didn't send that. I can't even track the money online. Where did you get this MTCN number from 4377016996? Not even your name on it. Is this what you call a progressive business? Send me the teller of the transfer in 5 hours time. All the money payment info was fake and there will be nothing to procede. I need the teller, your full name and the right informations on how you send the money. I am disappoint in you as a client but I still have your job here for 5 more hours.

Time to see how Oh Henry feels about...the spirit woild:

A joke? In my heyday, jokes were my life. Game? Nobody loved games more than me. But today, I'm a shell of my former self. Fact is, Oh Henry...I'm a corpse. I died in 1952. I forward to you a photo of my tombstone at my current address of 4334 Whittier Blvd, Los Angeles California: The Home of Peace Memorial Park Cemetery/Mausoleum. Here is where I am buried (I attached a photo of Curly's head stone for Oh Henry's mortification).

How, you ask, did I become involved in this? First, thanks to the burying of a fiber optic cable in close proximity to my final resting place -- coupled with technology on my side of the spectral plane, called ITC -- I was able to be contacted by your partner via the internet. Inadvertently, on his part. I was amused by his offer to give me the business. But my years of comedic antics died harder than I did. He gave me a chance to relive my heyday. One I soitenly seized upon.

Yes, I sent you money via Western Union. But I used the Western Union branch located on the 3rd Astral Plane. In order for you to cash it, you'll have to visit that branch. To do so, you'll have to be like me. Dead. Long as you are rooted in the physical plane beneath the 3rd Astral, you are as far removed from the money I sent, as if I had sent it to the Moon. Though, Ralph Kramden is standing here, offering to send you there if you wish...*BANG...ZOOM!* He's still funny...nyuk nyuk nyuk.

I hope you enjoyed your trip to Benin City. Now that you find the Wizard of Odds is not all-powerful, you find that you have, within you, the power to return yourself home. Just tap your ruby red slippered heels together three times and say, "lift that barge, tow that weight, ZOOT!", and I guarantee you'll find others looking at you really funny.

By the way, would you contact my cemetery and tell them to mow the grass? It's starting to tickle. J. Curly Howard

I never again hear a peep from Mr. Gbenga; but Oh Henry isn't willing to let it go just yet:

Thanks alot. You waste my time and my money. This story of yours i do not buy. you are fool. I have telled Gbenga about you. go to hell.

Then on September 3, I get this from Oh Henry:

You are lucky that you are already dead. My friends help you otherwise. Be wise no be course. Dead and living have nothing in common.

Since he's not willing to let it lie..*TOING*..neither am I:

Oh Henry, Of course I'm lucky. I play poker with my brothers, and characters like Einstein, Newton, Edison and Darwin. Darwin should concern you in particular. And weekends, I get to go dancing with Princess Grace and Princess Diana, among others. Afterlife on the 3rd Astral Plane is a gas. Where you'll wind up, it's a touch hotter, but them's the breaks for the choice you makes nyuk nyuk nyuk. If you want to be scary, you need a whole lotta work, sonny. Right now, you're an earth-bound mugu, and a pretty pathetic one at that. J. Curly Howard

Either Oh Henry has finally wearied of this, or something about the subject matter has tweaked him, as his last email suggests:

Let go off me are a dead man but i can still bring you back to life? if you have some skills to show please let me be!! i am just new in job and you fucked me up and dont even want me to make a next step..i am still novice ok. i am sorry just keep off my way cos i have a soul i fear for. i am not what you think cos i am in this dirthy stuff...just let go off me!!!

Real or an act on his part, I decide to keep up the "skeer" on 'em:

Oh nooooooooo....once you consciously decide to cross to the Dark Shadows, you tap into the evil denizens of the spirit woild, too....once you've summoned them, they come back again and again and again. My neer-do-well friends are now your shadow, and will forever after be your shadow, long as you partake in the "dirthy stuff" you're in. Nyuk nyuk nyuk!!!! Or maybe this will sound more scary...MWHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Act or not, Oh Henry sends a last plea: STOP IT! NO LIKE THIS JOKE! STOP!!!

LOL...if I were a nice guy, I'd say the point was made and that'd be that. But I ain't:

Once you tap into the negative energy of the dark side, Luke, we never stop. Like a psychotic Energizer Bunny, we'll be back.

Oh Henry is either truly tweaked out, or...:


Yawp...that was the ideer:

Darkness on family? Destroy your life? Yeah, so? You expected less when you chose the Dark Side, Luke? I am your shadow forever. Nyuk nyuk nyuk. Hey Moe, look that Oh Henry here!

Not a nuddah woid since. The "spirit" of Curly it seems has sent Oh Henry scampering in a flurry of "whoob whoob whoobs" and "nyahh nyah nyahhhh"s. And all without a single *eye poke*.

See that? *BONK* ow! Hey, Moe!

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Upstooging A Scammer -- II

I think the real Stooges would love the 'dead zone' I'm encountering between the ears of these scammers. At any rate, here's the driver's license I managed to find on a Stooges website, and forwarded to Gbenga and his lawyer, Mr. B Henry, who now enters the scene:

I have waited long for your email. Well i am MR Henry working with deferent companies here in Africa. i am very much busy with a lot of work in my hands but i can not turn a friend MR Gbenga down if he need my help because i have come along way with there company and also introduced me to a lot of company.

MR Howard, I will love to have all the detales from the start up line up to the memoradun of understanding, all that you have recieved and all that you have sent to the company to enable me to make a file and used it on the meeting date. my work will cost you $6,000 but a half payment of $3,000 will be paid first, then after my job the rest balance will be paid. I need half payment to enable me runs around pack up a file and my time taking. i will send you my informations on how the payment will be made. please i will work with time and I don't like anything slow because i believe on a time factor. MR. B. Henry

Note that I warned you the puns wouldn't get any more original or better:

I understand the need for speed, Oh Henry. The business I'm in can only move so fast, and puts people in the hole. Thus it is for you to provide me with details so that I can dig right in and make no bones about it. The skeletal information you've given me leaves me buried in anticipation for more. And I will send you all that I have corresponded with Gbenga.

A couple days pass, and then I get this from Oh Henry:

There is no good business with out a good understanding, now I have a file and the instrument to use as a repesentative. you have done well as a good client. The entire original document will be under my care it will take me a five hours drive to Benin City were the meeting will be hold but I can always take a flighty (biting my tongue real hard hyar). Mr. Howard your jobe will be handle property but you will need to make a half payment $3,000usd to enable me to start immediately(whch i have already started already) . Thanks for the job offer.

More bad puns:

$3,000 usd? Raising money here is like raising the dead in my current circumstances. But I will do what I can to dig up such an amount of cash. If I can raise it, to where is it sent and to whom?

Before Oh Henry can answer me that, I get this from Gbenga:

I have called the lawyer and he told me that he has already on with the job. More documents will be givein out to him on the 1st of next month (September) on our meeting date. What ever you need from me always ask me and I promise you all the updating informations.

I'll prod the lawyer and Gbenga with this reply:

B.O. Henry has told me about a fee he needs me to pay in half excrements, but hasn't as yet told me where and how to send it. I must say that I am dead in the water or any other substance until this is rectified. I have inquired of him about this, of corpse, so I expect he'll stiffen my resolve with the right information soon. Now excuse me, I've had a long day and I am absolutely dead here.

I warned you about the puns...Gbenga gets back to me the next day with a paragraph of more gibberish:

All the discussion has is through the phone with your lawyer. a faithful day of the meeting, which will take place on the first of next month (two days hence) and some document will be file out to him as a representate not through the internet. Arrangement file has already be prepare and will be relies to your laywer in the meeting.

Er...what he said. Finally on August 31, B.O. Henry gets back to me about the fees:

Use this informations to send the money through western union money transfers to enable my secretary pick it up:
Name: Paul Efe
City: Lagos, Nigeria
After you most have finish with the payment, send me the control number and the text question and answer. I will be leaving Lagos to Benin first thing tomorrow mornings. my finle arrrangment is in odor now.

I help him believe all is in "odor" here too:

It has cost me much rigor and mortis to raise the funds you require, but it is done in the dead of night and I have the $3,000 usd you request. I will notify you in the morning about my wiring information. Things are like a morgue here now; earlier there was a party, with condiments like cadavair and games like formaldehyde and seek. All it all, it was quite spirited. So tomorrow, I will send you details.

For some reason, Gbenga seems to feel I need some positive reinforcement, so he sends me this:
Everything will be fine because you are with the best lawyer so far and well know to our company.

Somewhat punned out, I don't bother with a reply until the next day, and I sent it jointly to Gbenga and Oh Henry:

Here is the payment info you have requested:
Amount sent: $3,000 usd
Sent via: Western Union
Sent to: Paul Efe
Lagos, Nigeria
Test Question: See that
Test Answer: Bonk ow
MTCN: 4377016996

Taking my grave responsibilities dead serious, I mustered my skeletal resources to get this deal signed, sealed, and planted. It's all up to you now.

In closing Part starts getting really weird. Nyuk nyuk nyuk...*BONK*..OH!

Monday, September 8, 2008

Upstooging A Scammer

*Here's another quick reprise from the archives, and another of my favorites from '07*
This was waaaaay too easy. But I think that Curly would have given it three "nyuk nyuk nyuk"s.
Seeking a new angle to take on the scammers, I found an easy source of inspiration: the Three Stooges. Watched 'em as a kid. They made me laugh then. They still do today.
I heard those snide comments, ladies. And your point is....?
Okay, so I enjoy the simplistic humor and the slapstick (as well as them slapping each other) of the Three Stooges. I have over 100 Stooge wav files in the media section of my computer. I frequently use one or more on my telephone message system.
Not only does this contribute to my still being single, but my coworkers and friends think there's something wrong with me in the "thrice concussed" department. After this series, so probably will you.
Some yardbird by the name of Gbenga A. Oyebode (, claiming to represent Okomu Oil (in Benin City, Nigeria), sent me an email offer that was somewhat different: he was seeking a foreigner to rent Okomu Oil. Specifically, to rent out a 70% interest that the government wanted to sell out of. In a short but rambling discourse, he discussed how highly respected Okomu Oil PLC had been in the 1980s, but "now with the governmnt action it will look like a shame on us, unless you will be working with us as an operating manager, but mind you all the original document will be with you and your lawyer". Whatever that's supposed to mean.
I've been offered a job, or an inheritance, or a swift card to access an inheritance, or a fee for faux helping a scammer to obtain an inheritance...but never to obtain 70% interest in a foreign oil company. This one I simply had to play in.
But not as U. R. Phulovit or Myra Manes. Nope...this time, I'd play it as Jerome "Curly" Howard. Granted, Curly prematurely left us in 1952, after a series of strokes from the late 1940s. He rests in peace at the Home of Peace Memorial Park and Mausoleum in Los Angeles.
But ol' Gbenga doesn't have to know that. At least, not yet.
So I respond to Gbenga's opening gambit thus:
Sointenly, I am dying to help out in the business you're giving me. Granted, I am gravely inept in this kind of business, so explain it to me so that I can be dead certain I understand.
J. C. Howard

I apologize in advance for the bad warned. If Moe were here, I'd be getting plenty of slaps, bonks and eye-pokes.
Gbenga responds to me with another rambling discourse (eloquence isn't his strong or any suit), at the end of which he asks me to fill out one of those simple "applications"; I return to him the following:
Why soitenly, I can fill out your application. I must bring up one thing about the usage of a telephone, though: in my current abode, a phone is an encumbrance. I can't get a cell signal from here. Moreover, I've lost my hearing over the years, along with most of what made it work. So it is best that you communicate your needs to me via the Internet. The rest of the information is here:
Name: Jerome C. "Curly" Howard
Home Address: 4334 Whittier Blvd, Los Angeles CA 90023
Office Info: Caretaker and Occupant, Home of Peace Memorial Park Cemetery/Mausoleum Age and Quailitfication (that's how he spelled it, and I thought it would be rude to correct him): I'm timeless now, and I have a degree in horizontal placement engineering via a correspondence course. I graduated high school and have spent many years entertaining in TV. I was also very gifted with musical instruments, as well as dance steps, pratfalls, and pie fighting. The sight of mice drives me crazy.
I thought that just maybe, he'd "get it" and that'd be that. Nawp:
It peleases me to have your partnershp in this matter. It is important now that you recieve here the legal documen titled Memoradun of Understanding (it came attached to the email) that you must sign and send me back soonest. I also meed from you a passport photo or ID of kind and for you to prosent yourself as the manager of the company or a lawyer to do that for you that will allow me can proede.
Okay, fine, I I printed, signed, scanned and returned the document. Not bad for a dead guy in a confined space, eh? Whose yer mummy, nyuk nyuk nyuk? However, I omitted the ID, not having one prepared, as well as omitting the designation since I didn't really understand much of the rest anyway.
Gbenga is quick to note the omission:
I did not get all that i ask for from you. I need an ID and for you to name youself a manger or have a lawyer do that for you. We need fast reply from you on this because i will be presenting your form on the first of next month to the Board and you need to be here or your lawyer.
Well, there's no way that Curly can be there, as himself or a lawyer. But I do correct the ID omission (see in the next installment) and take him off the hook on the lawyer as well:
Ohhhhhh, soitenly! I attach here a drivers license I managed to have obtained for me that almost cost me an arm and a leg to get..nyahhhhh. As for a lawyer, considering how buried I am in things just now, it'd be best if you know of a good lawyer there who can stand up and do other things for me there. I, of corpse, will accept his directives and instructions, so's long as they're not too cryptic with your needs or my limited abilities.
I'm wincing myself at some of these. But not ol' Gbenga:
The only lawyer that can work with our company is MR Henry, from south africa but base here in Nigeria. You can get him though his email . you should be fast with time bcause our meeting date is around the conner (a freudian slip?) i will call Mr. Heny on phone and let him know to hear from you ok.
Then Gbenga engages in some idle chitchat:
after I call him, I will wait for your lawyer and i will wish you suckess (LMAO!) in this becuse you are with a success lawyer well know in Africa and i will be here to give your lawyer all infor he need and keep you update. How is your family doing Mr. Howard?
Nyuk nyuk nyuk:
Okay, Mr. Ungabunga, I will wait to hear from the lawyer as well. You say he's a good 'un, so I'll soitenly expect the best from him. My family's fine. Most of them are dead on their butts right now, reposing like I am. It's kind of a family trait, buried in our genes.
Sorry folks: the puns don't get any better or original in Part II, as we meet the lawyer.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Coffee Barf -- III: Son Of Starbucks

Okay, so I garnished the entry with a totally off-topic photo. I mean, what does Starbucks and Barney have in common?

About as much as common sense has in common with the phone call transcripts you're about to read.

As I said, I didn't know for sure who was calling; I just knew that telemarketers aren't generally prone to calling thrice in rapid succession. So on the odd chance that it was hisself, Mr. Dean John of Costa Coffee, I took a deep breath and a page from Telephone Improv 101, answering in my best Ozark redneck voice:

Me: *taking a moment to listen to the connection, which sounds tinny and odd*..H..H..hallo?

DJ: *moment of hesitation*...Manes....

Me: Uh yawp...who're yew?

DJ: *garbled*...Costa understand to me?

Me: Uh yawp...who're yew?

DJ: *hesitation*...this is Mr. Dean John...Costa Coffee. I must speak to you about Western Union information..

Me: Uh yawp...who're yew?

DJ: *hesitation, then sounds like he's talking to someone there with him*...*then speaks to me in louder voice*...this is Mr. Dean John. Dean John. You hear? I want to know about Western Union..

Me: Uh yawp..wahl, I dunno bout Western Union. Call 'em an' ask them about them. Who're yew?

DJ: *something indistinguishable*...I am DEAN JOHN! You must tell me about Western Union you send..

Me: Ohhhh, yore Mr. Dean John? My employer?

DJ: Yes, Manes..please give me more information about Western Union..

Me: Wahl, they been in business fer quite a spell, I reckon...

DJ: *something indistinguishable in background*...Manes, can you hear me?

Me: Uh yawp...who're yew?

DJ: I AM DEAN JOHN! I want you tell me about Western Union transaction..

Me: Oh, that thang? Hang on and let me git the paper hyar..

*Click* as I deliberately hang up on him.

A minute goes by, then *ringing phone*, and the same "Unknown Name, Unknown Number". Game on again:

Me: H...H..Hallo?

DJ: *tinny echo sounds*...Manes, are you there?

Me: Uh yawp...who're yew?

DJ: *something blunt and annoyed sounding*...I am Dean John, can't you hear me?

Me: Uh yawp...who're yew?


Me: Uh, need ta yell hyar...I kin hear yew fine.

DJ: Manes, I must have Western Union information..

Me: What information?

DJ: *speaks slowly to me now*..HOW...MUCH...MONEY...DID YOU SEND?

Me: Oh, the money...wahl...all there wuz, after my cut...I do thank ye fer it.


Me: A bunch, less my 10 purscent. That all ye want now? I gotsta pee bad...

DJ: Manes...I need test question you use...

Me: Text question? I gotsta pee hyar...


Me: Ohhhhhhhhh, that thang...lemme cross me legs and remember what I writ..

DJ: Yes, please! I need it to..

Me: Wahl, okay...if a sheep is a ram and a donkey is an ass, why is ram in the ass a goose?

DJ: *dead silence, then noise in background and someone else saying something in background*

Me: I know it's a toughie, but ah cain't wait long...gotsta pee hyar..

DJ: But what was test answer you use?

Me: Oh, I cain't tell you that, hafta guess it..


Me: Now feller, why would they call it a test question, if you weren't being tested fer the answer? If I give it to you, you give it to your friends, and then we'll never know who gits the money, y'unnderstand what I'm saying hyar?

DJ: Manes...Manes, this is not funny business..

Me: Uh, yawp...who're yew?

DJ: *noise and chatter in background*..MANES..

Me: Uh, yawp...who're yew?

DJ: *yelling now* MANES, STOP THIS..

Me: Uh yawp...ah cain't cross mah legs no more hyar, feller...who're yew?


Me: Wahl, why din' ya say so? Bub-bye!

*click* (from my end)

In less than a minute, the phone rings yet again...

Me: H...h...hallo?


Me: Uh yawp...who're yew?


Me: Uh yawp...haw haw haw..yep, yer right...tain't laughin' hyar...who're yew?


Me: Whar's Manes? Oh, that's me...silly feller. Who're yew?

DJ: *something exasperated-sounding, followed by a click and dial tone*

My phone rings no more. Like Son of Cheesburger a couple-three decades before, Son of Starbucks annoys to the point of no more calls. Like I said, I wish I could have recorded it; I think the actual version was funnier than the one I recalled from memory.

I wait an hour, and then find this email from his thoroughly riled self:


But I like this game:

The amount of money I sent was all there was after my 10%. And I gave you the test question. You have to give me the test answer. If you don't, you don't get to collect your money. Neener neener boo boo.

The next morning, Dean John has had enough of this yokel soundin' feller:


Sadly for him, on the day he sends me this, I receive the money orders. All four of them. So I scan them in to my system, and attach them to this reply:

Mr. Dean named after a dunny,
I think you'll find when you closely examine the attachment(s), the four money orders your dingbat accomplice Eugene Kline sent to me. Yes, I have them. No, I didn't send you any money. But it was sure fun listening to you shriek and rant about it. It was even funnier recording those three phone calls (okay, so I lied again..but HE don't know that), so I can share them online, along with a copy of all of our communications.

See, Dean named for a dunny, I knew you were a scam from the beginning. I dissed you as U. R. Phulovit, the first time you wrote to me. And you told me not to *writ* to you again. So I did. As Myra Manes. And you bit like a sucker fish on a worm.

So I have your fake money orders. And your phone calls. And your emails. And I'm going publish them all on the world wide web, so ANYONE CAN READ ABOUT HOW MUCH BIGGER A BENIN MUUUUGGGGGGUUUUUUUU YOU ARE!!!!! WHO'RE YEW? THE BIGGEST MUUUUGGGGGUUUUUUUU IN BENIN!!!!!!!!

Thanks for playing, Dean named for an outhouse. I shall display with pride the bogus money orders your flunky sent to the address I borrowed. You are so STUPID!

Thank you for being so STUPID! Oh, and just for the record...Costa Coffee sucks rocks, but not half as bad as you're STUPID!

U. R. Phulovit as Myra Manes

Now that I got my trophy from a genuine stupid mugu, I'll go back to following the tried and true rules of the scambaiter road.

For now. After all, who knows when an even better Son of Scambaiter opportunity might come along?