Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Sometimes, They Get Mad

And that's a *trophy* moment in the life of a scambaiter.

With my current tactic of responding to email scams -- rewriting the scam letter and dispatching it back to the originating scammer, and a number of their colleagues and peers -- I have surpassed 150 rewritten letters. Most of them go unresponded to, though perhaps a response of sorts is when the email address they were using, quits working.

But I have to say that I really enjoy the ones that like to critique my work.

Take Alikali Yusuff (alikaliyusuf00@live.com), for example. His scam was to involve me in contractor overbillings of building supplies in Iraq, of which I, at his invitation, would have been entitled to 35% of the overbillings. Which, of course, is all bad cous cous: I was going to get had by some scammer posing as an attorney, with faux attorney fees amounting to in the ball park of $1,500 or so.


As has been my very uncool and uncooperative wont in this game, I didn't play by his rules; I played by mine. Here is how I rewrote his email, and sent it back to him and about 20 of his peers:

Iraqi ReCON Efforts

My name is Alikali Yusuf. I am an Al Qaeda terrorist of dubious antecedence and worse body odor. I am busy trying to blow up as much sh** as possible in Iraq, so I can get money in here to rebuild stuff, so I can blow it up again. I like blowing things; just ask any goat or camel that knows me. I am a piece of human feces, and just like blowing animals or blowing sh** up, because my father f***ed camels and my mother whored herself out to Somali pirates, and I was the result.

So send me more money to rebuild Iraq, because I love to blow things. I don't care what. Porta potties are almost as fun as blowing goats and camels. When I finally tire of blowing stuff, I will blow myself up, so I can get in on those 72 virgin camels I hear about.

Cous cous! Dirka dirka!

Respond to me soonest at alikaliyusuf00@live.com

PS: I also like to fart in water and bite the bubbles. Hee.

Eh..not one of my better email rewrites, but Steinway and Hemingbeck had their off days, too.

Well, it took ol' Alikali four whole days to stew over what I done to his email. Or perhaps it took him that long to figure out what all the words meant. Whatever. In any event, his critique of my rewrite suggests that he was less than pleased with my creative license:

Title: YOU ARE WARNED...UNLESS U ARE TIRED OF LIFE (ooooooooh...liking it already)

For the 11 years I have been scambaiting, a few folks have warned me about emails like this one. And for 11 years, I have lived for (and through) each and every one I got.

To this one, I used a combination of careful diplomacy, and tactful reflection:

HAHAHAHA. If you are watching me at this moment, you'll know what I just did at your f***ing CCTV camera, Islamof***head. You want a piece of me, Pork Lips? Come git some.

After dispatching that, my next four scammer email rewrites were all dedicated to Alikali Yusuf, as demeaningly as I am wont to do, especially when I engage my inner four year old for some creative demeanment. All of which was rained into his email box, from my current address of choice for such activity, under the unassuming name of "Junkyard Hamster".

It took him four days to respond to one rewrite. With that number of emails for him to sort through and process, I might be waiting a month to hear more.

Of course, his threat is wasted on me: the poor misguided email scammer doesn't know that I haven't had a life outside of work and email scambaiting for the past 11 years. Someone might oughta tell him...

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Thursday, May 26, 2011

Couldn't Read The Signs

In our last little expose into silly scambaiting-dumb, I left you with Kwesi Associate, and his desire to "buy my box". Though, when I tried to engage him on Yahoo Chat, he was most unresponsive.

He didn't stay that way, tho'. However, with what would ultimately transpire, I reckon he wished he had.

The very next day, I saw his icon lit up while checking my email, so I prodded him again:

u wat my box to cell very mush or wat?

This time, Kwesi was all over me for it, even giving me his phone number in Ghana, so I could call him and we could discuss "cell the box".

I wasn't quite sure what the gerbil snot he meant, but eventually I was able to get from his illiterate ramblings that he wanted me to give him access to my email address, including "passwold", so he could make use of it for his currently chosen trade.

Granted...he's in Ghana...and he's not the sharpest tool in the box. But the yutz could simply go to any free email provider and git hisself a box. Just like the one he writ me from.

But nawp....he wanted mine.

After an hour of increasingly desperate and silly riposte on Yahoo Chat -- his desperate, vs my silly -- Kwesi turned very surly, and began insulting me in what I gathered was his own language:

ebu mama gi gi. Ebi timtoto.

..and other such crapola.

So for about 10 minutes, we carried on like two four year olds, trying to one-up each other on the English-Ashanti insult meter. Though I guess I was quicker to pick up on, and incorporate, his Ashanti insults with my own, than he was able to incorporate, interpret, or even spell, mine. After I sent him a line, as I remember, that went something like this:

Ebu yo mama gi gi ga ga unga bunga bunnnggggaaaa, twatwaffle.

Kwesi got very pouty and fauxsinister sounding:

ok u insolt me to mach. i will get u box from u my way u see. bye bye. dont wrot me none more.

Okay, class...what effect does "dont wrot me none more", written by a scammer to me, tend to have with yours truly?

That's right...*TOING*

So the next three new email scams I received, I rewrote in honor of my pouty 'broda' (that's what he called me, before he got mad), with him as the subject line. And sent them to him and 29 more of his scamming peers and colleagues.

I won't recap all three: suffice it to say, I took a faux lottery win email, a "I'm dying and I want to give you my estate" email, and a 'we have your shipment and are waiting on you' email, which were made all about Kwesi, and how his 'thang' fell off after he got 'thang'-eating crotch crickets late in '10, due to unsavory sexual practices.

And how he wanted a new 'thang', so he wouldn't have to cross-dress with the tribe.

Just one of the rewrites will give you an ideer:

WTF??? Granted, we were waiting for you to contact us for your Confirmed Package that is registered with us for shipping to your residential location, but we were quite unprepared for what was the contents of the package. A new penis???

Are you for f***ing real???

Don't mind my asking, but what the hell were you doing that you now require a replacement penis??? Are you one of those Third World perverts from Ghana who do goat anuses and get carnivorous crotch crickets as a result? We thought the 'WANG' sticker on the box referred to replacement computer parts!!!

Anyway, if this isn't what we thought, you'd better expedite the shipping...dry ice doesn't last forever. Assuming, that is, that the shipper was smart enough to pack your replacement penis IN dry ice???

Get this..this 'thing' picked up ASAP. We don't want a wilting winkee, stinking up our facility.

Yours laughing at you,

MR. John Horton (the original scammer before the re-write of his letter)

FedUpEx Online Team MisManagement

An hour after sending that, Kwesi/Aaustaino (his Yahoo Chat ID) sent me a chat message:

u die 2nite. i kill u. u see.

Kewl...I could have two unkept promises in the same week, the other being the Rapture:

LMAO. How is a dickless eunuch from Ghana gonna kill me tonight? You make me laugh.

u die 2nite. u see u wife u kids u all die.

LMAO...how is a dickless eunuch from Ghana gonna do that? You can't even FIND Iowa on a map (the Yahoo profile on this particular email account sez my character lives in Iowa)!

i find u. u die. u see.

Well, u die of embarrassment when u get to airport in Ghana, and everyone sees you look like a Ken doll, genitally speaking! BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

u stop that!!!!!

Everyone at Ghana airport point and say "Kwesi looks like Ken doll, Kwesi looks like Ken doll!" Go ahead, Kwesi...find your way past airport, dickless. BWHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Apparently, my inner four year old won the argument. No more chat from Kwesi. And no dickless visitors that night, either. Perhaps the laughter at the airport in Ghana was too much for him ;-)

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Monday, May 23, 2011

I Know It's Only Sci-Fi TV, But...

Not that I'm totally backward, computer-wise, but I recently learned how I can watch old TV shows on my computer. Stuff that you don't find on cable.
My pet rock, Seymour, is enamored of it. And more than that: he is convinced that one episode of a two season series from 45 years ago, settled an argument about Homer's Iliad as fact, and not fiction.
Seymour says that the saga of the siege of Troy is historical fact. Because not only was he once a part of the walls of Troy; but because he sez he saw most of it as it originally happened, and could therefore swear that what he saw on TV, was pretty much how it happened on The Time Tunnel.
Deluded rock, cave in.
"Am NOT!!!"
Of course, I'm old enough to remember when The Time Tunnel was a brand new show, and one -- like Star Trek (TOS) -- I didn't miss an episode of. Special effects then were...well, what they were. Good enough for me at that age. And with my love of history -- if my rather weak grasp of it then -- I bought as plausible, the presentations of the episodes as they related to Custer's Last Stand, Pearl Harbor, the Alamo, the Titanic, the Battle of New Orleans, D Day....but I didn't know anything, at that time, of The Iliad.
Annoyed by my natural skepticism, Seymour invited me to watch, once more, The Time Tunnel, Season One, Episode 7, and defied me to deny what we were seeing on screen.
This is gonna be like shooting fish on a sidewalk.
"Is NOT!!!"

As we watched the 51 minute-long episode (the rest was commercials, opening/closing credits), I took a few relevant notes, while Seymour frowned. Then I dug up my own book with a historical timeline from the era of The Iliad to about 800 AD, for some fact-checking. Of no surprise to me, I found all kinds of Hollyweird TV script 'liberties' being taken ("were NOT!!"). For instance:

- In the TV episode, Helen of Troy was kidnapped by Paris against her will, and she resisted him for the entire 10 year siege of Troy; according to the Iliad, Helen came away with Paris voluntarily, only gradually coming to despise him as time went on and his character flaws were revealed.

- in the episode, Odysseus/Ulysses was the overall Greek army commander; *BUZZZER*. Agamemnon was the actual overall commander, while Odysseus/Ulysses was the commander of the Greek Ithaca contingent, under Agamemnon.

- both Drs Newman and Phillips (in the episode) make reference to a prophecy -- allegedly first shared by Paris' sister, Cassandra -- that Paris would be slain by the sword of Odysseus/Ulysses, and thus it was in the episode, inside the palace within the walls of Troy that this happened; *BUZZZZER*. In the Iliad, Paris was killed in battle, outside the walls of Troy, by Achilles. If Cassandra existed and made such a prediction, she was merely an early version of Ms Cleo.

- in the episode, Dr. Phillips was being tortured in the dungeon of the palace of Troy, on a rack; *BUZZZZER*. The torture device known as the rack did not come into being until sometime around or after 600 AD or so.

And of course, there were a few other, uh, minor 'inconsistencies' that cropped up:

- how was it that Odysseus/Ulysses, Paris, Helen, and all the other Greeks and Trojans, spoke perfect English, in 1200 BC?

- how come the Time Tunnel could send a Schmeisser machine pistol, bag of grenades, and --inadvertently -- Jiggs (Time Tunnel security chief), back to 1200 BC and retrieve them (uh, less the bag of grenades, that just kinda disappeared from both 1200 BC and 1968), but not Drs Newman and Phillips?

- for that matter, how come they could retrieve a Trojan warrior to the Time Tunnel, have him fight with security, and get him to know when to run back in the Tunnel to send him back to 1200 BC, and STILL not be able to retrieve Drs Newman and Phillips?

Me: So, Seymour...care to comment on those points?

Seymour: Phffffffffft. I'm not watching any more Time Tunnel episodes with you!

Yeah, I am kind of a stick in the TV sci-fi mud, aren't I?

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Saturday, May 21, 2011

Still Here, Huh?

So, you partied like there'd be no tomorrow on Saturday, May 21....and dang it all, there was a tomorrow that's today, Sunday, May 22.
Our photo subject is either (a) disconsolate 'cuz he didn't get raptured or (b) so hung over he's sparing us the rest of it.
I'm still here. I reckoned I would be. But I didn't take no chances: I was sure I wasn't having one last absolutely yummy pupu platter from my fav chinese delivery place. Now I know, with absolute certainty, that I can have more of 'em.
I reckon y'all are still about, too. Horsefeathers, I'll bet even Rev. Harold Egbert Camping's still h'yar.
So scrap your plans for not worrying about your 2011 IRS filings.
Maybe the Mayans will bail us out.
Back to the drawing board, Rev. Make sure it's widda new abacus. Your last one had a binary blip or breakdown or sumpin...


Thursday, May 19, 2011

The UN Does Ever'thang

Dawgs will sniff each others butts, but there are some things that a dawg will simply draw the line at.
With email scammers....uhm....not so much.
As y'all know, I've been in the mode recently of rewriting email scam emails -- the sillier and more disgusting, the better -- and shooting them back to the scammer what sent it to me, along with 25 or so of his/her fellow scammers.
Once in a while, it gets me a death threat from an unamused scammer. Or my being told to procreate off, in less eloquent syntax.
But I have to say, I found me a real door knob of a scammer h'yar. And I think we can all agree: a door knob's pretty dumb.
'Cept when compared with Bill Maher. But I digress.
I recently received an email scam that advised I was being awarded a grant by "the UNDP Grant Program", one of those numerous thangs that email scammers love to attribute to the 'tits on a boar' United Nations.
Well...I re-writ it a tad, widda new twist, as follers:

UNDerPants Grant Program
This is to notify all you cretins out there that your email has been granted a free change of clean underpants, since we understand from your pervert proctologist, Dr. Samuel Okoronji (a two-time death threater to me, so I just keep pourin' it on that twatwaffle), that you haven't yet changed your underpants or wiped your f***ing ass after a sh** in more than 10 years.
Clearly, you have anal retention issues, but we digress.
The UN Foundation Program for the Changing of Soiled UnderPants By F***ing Moron Third World Skanks, is funding this program, because they're sick of smelling your foul, unclean asses! To claim your clean underpants, contact our designated (this week) UNderPants secretary, Mrs. Shannon Maris at ( ).
Now, that went out to "Mrs Maris", and 25 of her recent email scamming reprobates, at email addresses that are, for now, still working. Most times, I get nothing back, including from the originator of the scam: they're almost smart enough to read that their ploy didn't work h'yar, and move onto stupider responders.
But one lil' feller -- identified as Kwesi Associate, from email addy kwesiasso1@qatar.io -- did respond. And more than once.
Funny...he didn't respond when I rewrote HIS email scam; or to about a dozen others I've sent him in the past week. But THIS one drew his response.
And we began something of a dialogue. Such as it was.
Here is Kwesi's reply:
My brother pls give me box i what wolk wilt you pls add me wilt this id aaustaino so will can chart thank you so mush.
When I got done laughing my ass off, I finally managed to translate this to mean that he wanted my Yahoo chat ID (via the mail) to "chart about wolking wilt me".
I didn't provide thus right away; instead, I responded in a vernacular it appeared that he could understand:
Willy you wolk wilt me can chart so mush?
30 minutes later, I gets this h'yar ree-ply:
My brother tell me how mush you will cell this your box for me pls i will pay you just tell me, thank you so mush
Okay....it's May, but someone's trying a belated April Fools joke on me, right? My response back, staying in character:
Cell this my box? Nevah been axed that afore. How mush you want pay for this my box?
His response didn't even take 30 minutes this time:
my brother add me for rust to tuk abut it this is my id aaustaino so will can chart thank you so mush
You knowd that I just gotta keep goin' h'yar:
Okey with dokey let me rust to tuk abut it with this my box, i add you id so we can chart thank you so mush.
And before he can respond further, I go ahead and add his Yahoo IM id to my account, and wha la, the icon comes up that sez he's "available". So I start in:
i r ready for chart now. you as mush ready to discuss cell of that my box?
Danged if he didn't respond. I try again:
my chart time for with box is short, yes? Rust up or very mush miss tuk abut it my box.
Dang...still, his icon sez he's there, but he ain't responding. One more try:
Hey, rust tuk abut to go mush mush my box, y'know? Vewy tink siwwy here tuk wilt this accent. U sabe?
And with that, his icon changed to 'offline'.
Y'don' suppose I hut his feewings wilt that tuk of mine? Either that...or maybe, he got around to checking his underpants. And discovered I was right ;-)

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Monday, May 16, 2011

Well, Crap...

Another Saturday night and I ain't got no-body,
I had a date, but she just got rap-tured...
A Califorlornia-based evangelical -- Rev. Harold Egbert Camping -- says that, without a doubt, the Rapture will happen on May 21, 2011, about 6pm, with the 'end of days' occurring on October 21, 2011, for those left out of the 'Rapture'.

And he says that, unlike in 1994, when he says he made the same claim -- only to have a 'mathematical error' make it NOT so -- this time it's gonna happen.

And he says he has the math to prove it.

Which I have found and provided for y'all here, 'cuz I am (un)impressed with this kind of mathema-tatical calculus-ination. 'Specially from someone widda middle name of Egbert.

Not that I don't know what the Rapture is, biblically; I just know I ain't gonna git an invite. Certainly none of the scammers I've screwed with think I deserve it. Neither do some of my ex-gal pals, but I digress.

Fact is, most folks I know -- and good folks all, by my reckoning -- will probably still be around at 6:01pm Saturday, May 21, 2011. And the next day. And the next day, etc...

HOWEVER...I have been knowd to be wrong. I proved that with my March Madness picks. So, let's entertain for a moment, that something is going to happen on Saturday, May 21, 2011.

And as you'll see, Rev. Camping and a noted C&W singer of sorts from the '70s -- C. W. McCall -- kinda sorta have something in common, mathema-tatically-wise.

Here is, in brief, Camping's mathama-tatical formula, biblically endorsed he sez, to prove that May 21, 2011, is THE Rapture:

- the number 5 means "atonement"

- the number 10 means "completeness"

- the number 17 means "heaven" (I'm already lost)

- Christ was hung on a cross on April 1, 33AD

- the difference between 4-1-33 and 4-1-2011 is 1,978 years

- multiply 1978 by 365.2422 (a solar year)

- the difference between April 1 and May 21 is 51 days; add 51 to what you got in the previous calculation, and you come up with.....*drum roll* 722,500

- (5x10x17) x (5x10x17) = 722,500 OR

(atonement x completeness x heaven) squared

Thus -- according to Camping -- "five times ten times 17 is telling you a story. It's the story from the time Christ made payment for your sins until you're completely saved".

Well alrighty then. This algebraic-sorta-looking formula guarantees that the Rapture is in five days from h'yar.

You didn't hear it here first, unless you didn't hear it prior to here and now. In the latter case, where the (oops) have you been?

I was okay in math in my day. But this h'yar math, as used by this feller, kinda cornfused me. So I went home, and dug out my abacus that I use to balance my check book on. After more than an hour of trying, I couldn't get my checkbook to 'wallenda' on the danged abacus.

Truth be told, I had the same luck with Camping's cornvoluted mathamatology.

So I turned to another noted mathamatologist from my earlier years, when he was calculating rate of descent, sorta. He based his calculation on counting telephone poles, noting "I started counting telephone poles going by at rate of 4 to the 7th power. Ah put two and two together, added 12 and carried 5, and came up with 22,000 telephone poles an hour".

The formula -- and lyrics -- had more relevance about a runaway truck hitting a feed store in downtown Pagosa Springs, than about the Rapture; but perhaps you see my point, if I have one.

And I'm not sure I do.

Just for the heck of it, I asked my pet rock, Seymour about it; he told me that I was wasting my time waiting on the coming of a raptor, 'cause they're extinct and petrified.

Millions of comedic pet rocks outta work, and I have just one more.

Bottom line: if something confounding happens around 6pm your time, Saturday night, May 21, 2011...count on the fact that I ain't invited.

Which is fine, 'cuz Sunday's my day off. And like most of us, I'd hate to lose a day off.

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Friday, May 13, 2011

A Short Scam Gets A Short Repry

I know a scammer that kind of understands how Taylor Swift felt.
Kinda sorta.
This scam email rewrite will be mercifully short, friends.
Just like the email that triggered it.
From a purported Mrs. Meili Chi Fu (mrsmeilichufu1@live.com), I received this:
Good day. I am Mrs Meili Chi Fu. I have a secured business proposal for you. Email me on (the aforementioned address).
The word must be out about what's happening to emails sent to this particular address of mine.
So I forwarded it to the other address from whenst I'm replying these days, revised it with brevity and conciseity, and sent it back to the Mrs, and 25 selected friends and colleagues of hers. It went like this:
I am Mrs. Meili Chi F*** and I have a revived vagina proposal for you. Last year I was diagnosed with terminal crotch crickets that had eaten away most of my vagina. I blame those filthy Somali pirates who held me for ransom in '09, and I wound up freeing myself by having sex with the entire lot of them. Arrrrrr. Fortunately for me, Dr. Suk Wun Dong, a noted vaginal transplant specialist, was able to transplant the vagina of a virgin goat into me, and saved me.
Now that I'm a born-again virgin -- literally -- I need clients to defrock me. I understand that some of you boyz out there, receiving this email, love to f*** goats. Well, I'm better than any goat you'll ever backdoor, and I gotz what youz wantz, so let's goat for it.
Email me on mrsmeilichifu1@live.com, and goat crazy on me.
Told ya it was short. So was the somewhat unexpected reply from Mrs. Fu, though the content of the reply seems to becoming an almost talking point response in scamdom:
You know me....can't ignore thanks for a job well done:
*BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZER*....the plumbing's all wrong for you to do that, Meili. But hey...I'm sure one of your 25 peers and colleagues will be happy to defrock your virgin goat vagina. I'll send out a reminder email to them daily, for the next week, so's they don't get busy and fergit, okay? No need to thank me...it's what I do.
After a week of sending those reminders -- including copying her, of course -- I didn't hear back, so don't know if she appreciated my thoughtfulness or not.
Prolly not...

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Tuesday, May 10, 2011

A Hard Cell

Hate when that happens...got me a cell phone.
No, not one I bought; given to me by my employer.
And no, it ain't a fancy schmancy one that can access the 'Net, flush toilets, compute time warps or launch missiles.
It's a pretty simple phone. It can call and be called (except where I live). It can text and be texted. Tho', danged if I know how, with them lil' keys and my big fangers.
Anyway, that's about all it can do.
The problem widdit is...it came with no user's manual. Dang.
But I knowd where I could get one: online. So I went online to get it.
The user's manual online is in Adobe format. Yes, I have Adobe on my 'puter. But apparently, not an updated-enough version of it. So it bade me to update my Adobe version.
So I went to update my Adobe version. Apparently, I haven't done this in a while. In quite the while. Since my home desk top computer is on dinosaur dial-up, it told me that it could complete a download of all Adobe updates, since the last time I apparently did this, by June 30, 2011.
If I started now.
THEN -- and only THEN -- could I download the user's manual. All 17.75 megs of it.
A dink phone like this needs War & Peace to 'splain how to use it???
To put it in terms that my computer and employer-issued cell phone will understand ... byte me. If I accidentally launch missiles against Iran this weekend while trying to figger out my phone, my bad. Blame Adobe ;-) I know I will...

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Saturday, May 7, 2011


I reckon that there are a couple dozen email scammers, sittin' in fly-infested internet cafes, from Lagos to Fairfield, Ohio, who wish they had never had one of their scam emails find its way to my address.

And after the latest one did, add him (along with them) to wonderin' WT-fly-infested-internet-cafe-scam-email-F happened to the email he sent that wound up h'yar.

Simple: I rewrit it. And returned it. To him (aka Dr. David Robert, wu.londonuk1@o2.pl). Him and 20 some odd other recent email scammers, several of which (all recent 'death threateners' to my scambaiting character) were prominently mentioned in the body of the rewrite. I like to be inclusive, 'cuz it makes folks feel good when they're included. Y'all know how a lack of recognition hurts that ol' self esteem and all.

I won't recap the entire rewrite here; only those parts that adequately get the point across that my scambaiting persona is one sick dude, and gettin' sicker all the time:

Good news! I have oral crotch crickets that create anal warts over an infected one's face, and GUESS WHAT??? I DON'T KNOW HOW TO TRANSMIT THEM VIA EMAIL!!! Which means I can't complete my designated assignment, without YOUR help!!

Personally, I got them from (another scammer)'s illegitimate cross between a daughter and a llama. I tell you, that boy is more twisted than me. But, to business: three is an issue with the ORAL CROTCH CRICKET TRANSFER, UNITED KINGDOM in the amount of 2.5 Million diseased crotch crickets that is directed to you.

(Three other scammers previously dealt with) are the intended recipients. I was tasked to deliver these oral crotch crickets to the aforementioned, but I need you to deliver them. Your help is needed to see that the deserving receive their just and rightful share of crotch crickets, without undue delay or hinderance. The ones they have are already dying off because the ones they got from (first named scammer) were genetically defective. So you see how needed your help is to deliver these 2.5 MILLION ORAL CROTCH CRICKETS to (the four aforementioned scammers) before June 1, 2011.

Please make note of the fact that this is not one of those Nigerian/African scams that all they are after is to rip you off of your crotch crickets and at the end of the deal you are left with an empty wallet and no crotch crickets. We live to serve, and our motto is To Serve You All The Oral Crotch Crickets You Can Mouth.

In the offchance that you should have some questions, please feel free to contact me: wu.londonuk1@o2.pl, phone + 447014233723 (preferably between midnight and 4am, Coordinated Universal Time), and refer to or ask for Dr. David Robert.

At the end of the original email, there was the quaintest little disclaimer, which I happily rewrote for Dr. Robert as well:

Oral Crotch Crickets UnLtd, All Rights Retained. This email is intended for the purpose of f***ing up your entire life and ancestral lineage. If you are spawn of (an aforementioned scammer) we're too late; he's already screwed you for several generations. If you have received this email as a result of having sent it to someone who has a very lowbrow sense of humor, and having him rewrite it and send it back to you and two dozen of your lowerbrow peers, please print it, fold it lengthwise, and shove it up your ass sideways. Notify us immediately if you go it without paper cuts; we'll send you bigger paper to try again with. Disclosing the contents of this email will show the world what kind of a decayed, pickled dildo you are, Dr. David Robert.

I'm sure that none of you are going to believe this, but....from the 20 some odd recipients of this revision, not one of them responded.

Perhaps they're looking forward to their crotch cricket delivery? I'll let you know if I get any complaints when they don't show up...

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Thursday, May 5, 2011

Another Royal Snub?

Granted, they're royalty and all, but DANG. That's TWICE.

And just wait 'til you hear what they may have missed out on.Y'all know who this pictured on the right is: Prince William and his bride, Kate Middleton. Now, officially, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge.

Why Cambridge, I have no ideer. They didn't consult me. Iffen they had, I would have suggested a title that would have been just as royal, and would have tickled the snarf out of a friend of mine: The Duke and Duchess of Earl.

What y'all don't know is....pictured here are my 23rd cousin, thrice-removed, and my now 23rd cousinette, thrice-as-removed.

Yep. I am related to royalty. Really.

The royalty is apparently not terribly impressed with that notion.

I can't always keep the lineage straight: my sister is the family genealogist, not me. But the Queen of England -- yep, that one -- is my 23rd cousin, once-removed. Which means...uh huh...that Prince Charles and the Duchess of Cornwall -- Camilla -- are my 23rd cousins, twice-removed. And so on, and so on.

The lineage that makes it so goes back to the direct link up via King William The (Bastard) Conqueror. Somewhere thereafter, the branch of the royal tree upon which I would one day reside, growd, got pruned...died...got blowd off in an English storm, became part of someone's thatched roof...whatever. Bottomline, my being related to royalty, and fifty cents, isn't worth a decent cup of bloody tea, by jove.

Still...we're related. And just as in '05...Willie and Katy stiffed us: no royal wedding invite. Then, I reckoned -- and excused away -- Charles and Camilla's snub as their staff losing our invites.

But AGAIN? Twice in one century? Ruddy bad form, eh wot.

However, their bad form needn't result in me following suit. I may be a commoner, but I am a commoner with manures. And -- just as I did in '05 -- I am going to prove it, by dispatching to their Royalnesses a letter that (a) forgives the snub and (b) offers them several choices of wedding gifts.

Personally, I'm going to recommend that they go with the His/Hers bath towels, with iron-on royal monograms. I found a helluva deal at Walmart. I think that, at the very least, Duchess Cuzzin Kate will be impressed.

'Cuz this cuzzin cain't iron for sh**.

If -- as in '05 -- I get a response, I'll post both h'yar.

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Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Contest To End ALL Contests

A fitting day for this particular post -- May Day.

At least some of you will see what I just did there.

In one rather unspectacular night in April -- during one of my bouts with insomnia -- I received three rapid-fire notifications via email, that I had 'won' three online lottos. My collective 'win' was just short of 7 Million Pounds (UK), between the three. I had 'won' lottos from the UK National, Shell Oil and Microsoft, EU.


Insomnia's a funny thing, 'cept when you have it. But it wasn't you that had it. It was me.

And that, sometimes, can be funny. Or not. Depends on how your sense of humor trends, in warped relation to my own.

As has been my habit, despite nun protests, I re-wrote all three contests, and sent them back to their originators, along with to a very select group of email scammers (ie., their email addresses are, for now, still working).

Not that I got anything in return that readers would find amusing on this go around; but you might find some strange kind of amusement in what I did with one of the re-writes, which will fit in the the accompanying photo/calendar for next year's widely-anticipated *apocalypse* on The History Channel.

'Prolly just like Y2K.

At any rate, a scammer flying under the guise of Barrister David Green (claim_dptupdate@live.com), and his internet scam ho' Rose Wood -- they threw in a 'Mrs' in parentheses, just to legitimize her -- sent me email notification that I had won the UK NATIONAL LOTTERY.

I returned it to him/her/it, along with over a dozen of their respective peers this way, along with amended dates, times, and outcomes: *Blogger's Note: if you are offended by making fun of 'The End', you might only wince at what's to come; trust me, you're really smirking, and about to lapse into LYAO....really*




Dear Email User,


Whacking great time for a contest, we thought.

Our Mayan Calendar APOCALYPSE LOTTERY has selected YOUR EMAIL to have WON the sum of...oh hell, what the f*** does it matter? After all, you can't take it with you, right? So just print this notification and take THAT with you, so you can show everyone you know in the afterlife that you went out a WINNER!

To the official sh**: Your email has won the sum of 5,014,478 GBP in cash credited to a file in the just concluded by the Mayan Calendar APOCALYPSE LOTTERY. Programme held on Draw Date Thursday, December 20, 2012. Sorry we didn't notify you a tad quicker. Eh....f***ing sue us. Our attorneys will see yours in Heckydarnpoo and probably do lunch on your dime.

Winning numbers: 10, 26, 28, 34, 35, 39 and bonus 17

Ticket number: 8603775966738

Secret number: ....you realize, of course, that providing you all this info is just a f***ing waste of time, right? ...089188/10

Please submit the following informations, not that it will make much difference, because it's the END OF THE CALENDAR AND YOU'RE F***ING DEAD! But, what the f***: just in case you happened to avoid dying from the big ass asteroid that obliterated your, Mr. Rogers, and everyone elses' neighborhoods, then you can fight it out with the zombies that have to survive to make this a worthwhile project for what's left of Hollyweird to make a movie out of.

Just don't look for it on the 2013 Oscars; zombies eat anything remotely Oscar. Nyuk.

Please email your informations (full name, address, physical description, marks, scars, tattoos, other identifying features) to Fiduciary agent Barrister David Green at email claim_dptupdate@live.com

Note: All Responses should be sent to Agent via email, since everyone will be running around and screaming, as they see the giant space rock about to wipe their sorry asses out of existence; Barrister Green will have his 4G phone with him, to record your winning information while he's running and screaming. That's right, Barrister: you work to the bloody f***ing end.


Do you think that Barrister Green, or any of his over a dozen peers, appreciated the irony here? It would have been nice, had they dropped me a line to let me know.

Eh..perhaps they're too busy running and screaming already.

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Monday, May 2, 2011



Just sayin'.

September 11, 2001. We all remember. And who doesn't know the name of the son of a bitch who was behind it: Osama bin Laden.

It took almost ten years, but on the evening of Sunday, May 1, 2011, we heard that a US Navy SEAL team had accomplished that part of the mission in the war on terror. Two head shots put paid to bin Laden.

America celebrates.

Well, most of us do. Little surprise that there are exceptions, like from The Daily Kos, friends of terror, and among the Ward Churchills of the Left.

Oh...and Hamas has condemned the US. *Yawn* Are we sending foreign aid to the Gaza Strip? Controlled by Hamas? *Hello, Potus: there's a budget cut for ya*

Granted, killing bin Laden does not end the war on terror. Our lengthy pursuit of bin Laden did marginalize his control of Al Qaeda, and this is a symbolic victory. It also helps provide some degree of closure to survivors and next of kin of 9/11/01.

But vigilance must be maintained. Al Qaeda is still out there. And Hamas. And Hezbollah. And other Iranian/Islamofascist-backed terrorist organizations.

Still...just as Islamofascist terrorism sent us a message on 9/11/01, we have sent a message back to them: you can attack us, you can then run, you can even hide.

But in the end, you will pay.

God bless the USA and the US Military, every mother's/father's son and daughter of them.

Oh, and did I mention that the US Navy SEALs ROCK!

Just sayin'.

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